Kisukari was in trouble.
She was getting fat.
She had started to cut down on her food in an attempt to cut down on her weight gain but she just seemed to be constantly hungry. The day previously she had hunted for Bosvour and somehow found herself eating an entire gazelle by herself before sheepishly hunting him a second gazelle, and pretending that she had only caught one. She even shared the second one with him, but refused to eat her fair share, feigning that she was full. Even with her separate meal, she probably could have eaten the second one by herself too.
She was lucky that a sharp look at her ‘master’ would zip his lips about her growing fat.
She had started to wear a bulky pelt across her back, covering most of her swelling stomach. She didn’t want people to look at her and judge her. She wasn’t a spoiled thrall, Bosvour made her work, so she really had no excuse to put on such a great amount of weight.
It was embarrassing.
She was a princess! Not a boulder.
There was a dangerous thought lingering in the back of head though. There was that one guy…That handsome rogue who had stood taller than all of the other males she had met. She had been easily wooed. She had been in the rogue lands with Bosvour, He had been out on a viking, and she had been hunting for some things for him while he viked. That’s when she had met the rogue. He had been so sweet. She had been desperate to forget her servitude for a while.
She had returned to Bosvour though.
It surprised her that she hadn’t used her momentary freedom to flee. She told herself that it was because she knew he would simply chase her down, his honour offended by her leaving, but in reality she would feel guilty for taking such an easy way out. She knew it would disappoint Bosvour if she did it. She had put herself into this situation, really, she should deal with the consequences.
Speaking of consequences.
It was only one afternoon. A brief fling. It wasn’t as if she could get…well, it wouldn’t happen from just one afternoon.
Could it?
Kisukari rested outside of Bosvour’s den. He was somewhere, and she was taken advantage of his absence to sneak in an afternoon nap. She was really tired recently actually.
She started to count the symptoms.
She was starving all the time.
She was tired.
She was grouchier (she was sure Bousvor was unimpressed with her attitude even more now).
She was sore, her legs ached (but she was carrying a lot of excess fat) and she would get a rumbling feeling in her stomach some nights.
She couldn’t be pr…that…could she?
No.
No way.
Not possible.
Kisukari could feel her heart rate increasing, her pulse sky-rocketing as she breathing shortened. She couldn’t be. She wouldn’t be. She had told Bosvour she would rather die than bringing cubs into this world.
She shifted her pose and stared down at her swollen belly. She tried to count backwards, and realised that if she was pregnant…she was due soon.
Oh Mkodi!
What was she going to do? She couldn’t raise cubs in this pride! What would Bosvour do? Would he get rid of them? Would he kill them? No. She had more faith in him than that.
But would he give them away? Let others raise her cubs? She blinked back tears. Oh what was she going to do? She couldn’t tell him. What if she told him and she wasn’t actually pregnant, maybe she was just fat. Oh please, just be fat.
But…if she wasn’t just fat…what would she do? She couldn’t give birth to them in the rogue lands. They would die without her. She had to give birth them in the pride. Maybe she could hide them from Bosvour?
No. He’d smell them out. Oh, what was she going to do?
The tears were coming faster and faster now, slipping down her face and falling onto the stone ground before her. She pushed herself up onto her paws and strode into Bosvour’s den, thankful for the darkness that shrouded her as the sobs burst out of her chest.
No! She couldn’t be pregnant.
Maybe she would give them away herself. Before Bosvour found out. Yes.
She’d find loving homes. Sneak them in with other litters of similar ages. They would be freeborns that way. She wouldn’t be sentencing them to a life of thralls. Who had had cubs recently? She tried desperately to think of families she could give them to, but she stuck to herself so much, she couldn’t think of a single family. She barely spoke to others. She just had Bousvor.
Oh Bousvor! How would he react? Would he hate her? Would he be annoyed that he hadn’t gotten to choose who she’d bred with? He was just a rogue. Some nobody. She was going to have cubs that will be both thralls and bastards. What kind of life was she bringing them into? She buried her face in her paws, the sobs now wracking her body so violently she thought she might actually die.
Maybe it would be better if she did.
No.
She was stronger than that. She could do this. She would make this better. Somehow. She would find a way to save her cubs. They wouldn’t be like her.
The sobs were subsiding as her resolve strengthened, her eyes grew dry and steely. She would do this. She was stronger than this. She wouldn’t let this break her. She was a god damn princess! Her cubs would not be thralls, they were the blood of royalty. She would ensure they were raised with dignity.
She brushed her cheeks free of tears, sniffling and firming her shoulders.
First thing first. She needed to pick some flowers. The entire den reaked of salt and sorrow, her tears soaking the ground where she laid. Bosvour would just have to put up with whatever sickening smell of perfume would fill his den to hide the smell of her sorrow.
When he came back home that night, her sorrow would be hidden and her mind would be made up.
She wasn’t sure what she was going to do, but she was going to do something to save her cubs.
-fin- (WC: 1060)