Blaine entered into the shallow cave, slowly treading the brush on the ground until he reached his pregnant mate. Kurt’s head lifted off his folded paws as he felt his mate approach and he snuffed in acknowledgement before lowering his head again.

The small, auburn-furred wolf was already fifty-nine days into his gestation; he could feel his body’s reaction to the end of his pregnancy and despite his low energy, he was feeling restless. He wanted his pups to come now. He was ready for them to be born.

Blaine’s muzzle touched Kurt’s swollen stomach and he snuffled at the movement of his pups within. He, too, was excited for his pups. Two mating seasons ago, he and Kurt had birthed three pups, two of which had not survived the early months and the unusually cold weather.

Rory, the pup that had survived, had visited his pregnant father constantly throughout the pregnancy. His own excitation about the arriving pups was almost as tangible as his parents’. He was not fortunate enough to have found a mate yet, so he dozed outside alone as he waited for his turn at vigil.

Blaine circled his mate a couple of times, his nose dragging along Kurt’s tense spine, thighs, shoulders, trying to encourage him to relax. He nosed at the smaller wolf’s muzzle, and practically radiated contentment when Kurt’s own nose rose to meet his, they nuzzled lovingly before Kurt’s energy drained once more and he dropped his head back down.

Finally, the black-furred wolf plopped down behind his mate, curling his body around the smaller wolf’s, licking Kurt’s ears and resting his head on the other wolf’s neck. They both drifted off to sleep with their anticipations of pups that would arrive in only a few more days.