Author's Note:

Hiya! It's Friday and I'm back!
Ok, first of all, I'd like to apologize for the fact that I haven't been able to stick to my posting schedule. Since this whole pandemic started, I've been drowning in work (healthcare and all that), so I've basically had little time to write as of late. At this point, I think I might as well throw my posting schedule out the window and aim for one chapter a month, at least until things get back to normal again. But worry not! The show MUST go on! But slower than usual.


Lydia

The smell of last night's rainfall still hung in the air as Lydia sat beneath the tree down by the lake. It had quickly become one of her favourite spots to sit and think, just like the fallen log over the pond back at their original home had been. Here, it was calm. With the distance to the hustle and bustle of the Ape Village ensuring her some peace and quiet, and with a great view of tranquil waters of the lake and its backdrop of beautiful, snow-capped mountains, it was the perfect place to just sit and sort out one's thoughts. On the days when the sun was beating down from above, the young tree would shield her just as diligently as it would during rainfall, unbothered by how she leant against its slender but sturdy trunk.

Lydia sighed in contentment as she went about fletching yet another arrow, the task so familiar to her by now that she could let her mind drift without worrying about botching her work due to lack of focus. Storm, who was resting on the ground beside her, didn't pay any attention to the sigh, a brief flick of her fluffy ear the only indication that she had heard it.

Finishing another arrow, Lydia held it up against the sky to examine her work, still lost in thought.

Life was calm and easy in a way that Lydia would've never imagined it would be ever again just a couple of years prior. No looming threats, no death tolls at the end of each day, no secrets pressing down on her conscience. Not a day went by that Lydia wasn't thankful that those days were behind them, with each morning now looking brighter and livelier than the last – and not just because they were already halfway into spring.

Lydia smiled at that and, pausing in her task, reached over to let a hand run along Storm's body, and the dog stretched out lazily in response. When her hand settled gently onto Storm's flank, Lydia felt a very faint, but nonetheless clearly distinct bulge, which disappeared as suddenly as it had pushed against her palm. Storm seemed none too disturbed by it, nor by the fact that Lydia was currently resting her hand onto her swollen belly.

It wouldn't be long now before their home would be filled with the cries of puppies. A few weeks at most, by Lydia's own estimation.

She removed her hand and returned to her fletching.

This would be Storm's first and last litter, she had decided when her old girl had started going into heat and both of the colony's male dogs had shown their… interests. Realising that they might as well ensure that they would have dogs to help guarding and hunting in the future, Lydia had finally let nature run its course and not bothered separating Remus and Storm during the female's heat. It was risky, she knew, given Storm's age, but one Lydia was willing to take on account that her old girl still seemed quite healthy. Besides, Storm was still the best hunting dog the colony had, and Lydia was counting on at least one or two of the pups inheriting this trait.

Lost in thought, another two arrows were finished by the time Lydia heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching behind her, hampered by the muddy ground. A soft, feminine grunt sounded then, and Lydia turned to find none other than Juniper making her way towards her, out of breath from traversing the soft soil beneath her feet.

"Well, hello, Juniper." Lydia greeted amicably and with a small wave of her hand.

Juniper, despite a deep crease between her brows, managed a sincere smile as a greeting before she sat down on the other side of Storm, who barely acknowledged the she-ape's sudden appearance.

Pregnancy has made you lazy, Lydia thought, rolling her eyes at the dog.

For a short while, silence prevailed as the two simply sat there, staring out across the vast lake in the middle of the valley. Its water levels seemed higher than usual, though Lydia attributed this to last night's rainfall.

It was easy to tell that Juniper had something she wanted to talk about. Lydia could scarcely remember when the she-ape had last come out here without a specific purpose in mind, and Lydia was confident that this time was no different. She wasn't going to press the issue, though. Didn't want to have to pull it from Juniper like one pulls a stubborn fish on a line out of the reeds.

Turns out she didn't have to, as Juniper, in a rather subdued manner, suddenly grunted to gain Lydia's attention and began signing, slow and deliberate.

"I had a… discussion with Ivy this morning."

With another arrow finished, Lydia gave it a quick once-over before putting it into the quiver with the others, though she didn't bother to take a new one for fletching. Instead, she leaned back against the tree, propping an arm onto her bent knee and shot Juniper a sideways glance.

"Didn't go well, I take it?"

Juniper shook her head.

"She insists on performing her duties to the colony as leader of the females' hunts."

"And you think she shouldn't?"

Once again, and more exasperated this time, Juniper shook her head.

"Of course I do. She's halfway through her pregnancy. She's been showing for a long time now." She said, wringing her hands together in what seemed like anxiety once she was done signing.

Lydia pursed her lips. Well, it was true that Ivy's condition had begun to show, the swell of her stomach now impossible to hide or ignore. It hadn't seemed to hamper her all that much, however, which is why Lydia hadn't seen fit to mention anything about taking a break from leading the female's hunts, figuring that Ivy would come to that conclusion when she felt the time was right for it.

Perhaps Juniper thought that was irresponsible of her? That she should have said something or downright ordered Ivy to take it easy and appoint someone else to take over the task?

But if that was what Juniper had come to tell her, she had yet to get to that part.

"And she didn't like you telling her this, I assume?" Lydia asked, to which Juniper gave a sad frown.

"She takes it personally when I say that she should be more thoughtful of her condition. That she no longer has just herself to worry about when she goes hunting. She thinks I am saying she doesn't care for the child's safety and criticizing her performance." She signed with soft movements, followed by a heavy, hopeless-sounding sigh. "I only want for her and the child to get through this pregnancy unscathed. I warn her about what can happen every time, try to explain to her what I have gone through, but she seems to think I am trying to use her condition to contain her. It has gotten to the point that she simply stopped asking me any questions concerning it anymore."

"Yes, she's told me as much." Lydia said with a nod, remembering how Ivy had approached her only a week prior, complaining about this very issue. Before she could say anything else, Juniper groaned and shook her head despairingly.

"That is why I'm here." She signed.

Lydia, now taken aback, narrowed her eyes in equal parts confusion and suspicion.

"What do you mean?" She said, leaning forward and clasping her hands in front of her. Juniper, meanwhile, took on an almost pleading expression as her eyes met Lydia's.

"I was hoping you could help me see what I'm doing wrong. She confides in you, listens to you. Clearly, you are doing something different than me. Something which is working." She explained, pursing her lips.

It was clear it wasn't easy for Juniper to admit that someone else had a better grasp of how to approach her daughter than she did herself. In fact, Lydia had often worried that it would end up being something that would eventually cause a rift between them. A jealousy stemming from the close relationship with Ivy that Juniper clearly longed to have and which came so easily to Lydia.

But instead, it seemed she wanted to learn how to achieve it rather than begrudge it.

"So this isn't about you wanting me to talk her out of leading the hunts?" She asked, trying her best to hide the surprise in her voice. That was honestly what she had expected, and now she felt just a tiny jab of shame for having thought so. Before the war with the Colonel and everything it had brought with it, this might have been Juniper's intention. Nowadays, however...

Juniper looked somewhat sheepish at that.

"It was my first thought, I admit… But I realise that it would only prove her right in her accusations." She said, shoulders slumping. "Also, it would not solve the issue of her not confiding in me... Sometimes, I can even see it in her eyes, Lydia. A question pressing, but if I ask, she will tell me that it's nothing. Tell me, does she at least come to you with these questions?"

Now it was Lydia's turn to sigh. She reached up and scratched the back of her neck.

"Not really, no. I think she realised it'd be a lost cause, for obvious reasons…" Lydia said while gesturing to herself. "and to top it off, I've never been pregnant myself. Hell, I haven't even been present at an ape birth, not even Orion's or Cornelius'."

Lydia did her best to remind herself that the look Juniper was giving her at those words was one of sympathy, not pity, and focused on the task at hand – helping Juniper. She cleared her throat, getting back on track.

"So, essentially, I'm probably the least qualified out of the entire colony to give advice on that kind of stuff. And even if I wasn't, I wouldn't want to take that away from you. Any girl should be able to ask their mom about pregnancy and what to expect from it."

Lydia didn't think it was physically possible for Juniper's shoulders to slump much further than they already had, but just then, the she-ape managed to prove her wrong, her entire posture seeming on the verge of collapsing under the weight of her feelings of inadequacy and resignation.

"If only she was still actually willing to ask…"She signed. "I try not to press too hard, I really do, Lydia. But it seems like the few times I have actually talked to her about it has been enough to deter her completely. I just don't understand it."

Reaching over, Lydia laid a comforting hand on Juniper's shoulder. At least on this, the woman thought she could shed some light. With what Juniper had just told her, and her conversation with Ivy from a week ago still fresh in her mind, Lydia knew she had to choose her words carefully.

"Well," She began, pausing for only a second. "if she's not willing to, then you gotta make the first step, if you want to make things better. But you have to try not to turn it into a lecture or grim warnings of miscarriages each and every time, because it's sure to end up ruining the entire experience for her."

Lydia could tell that her words stung, the way Juniper ducked her head was evidence enough of that. She didn't like to be so blunt about such a sensitive subject, and especially not in the face of someone who was clearly distressed already, but at times like this, she knew it was necessary. Juniper, due to her overly-concerned and cautious nature, had a tendency to believe that the most likely outcome of any situation would always a negative one and as such, could turn even the happiest circumstances sour just by listing the number of things that could go wrong.

"You think that is what I did wrong?" The she-ape asked, her movements so subtle and subdued that Lydia could barely discern the signs.

Nonetheless, she nodded her head at Juniper.

"Pretty sure it's a huge part of it. It might come across to Ivy as you trying to contain her as well, but I think the biggest issue is that she's beginning to view this pregnancy as something to be concerned about, rather than something she should enjoy and look forward to."

Juniper bit her lip and looked down at the ground for a brief moment, her face distraught. Clearly, she hadn't even considered that as an option. That her warnings, which Lydia was certain were well-meant, were making her daughter apprehensive, maybe even downright afraid of what was to come. When she looked up at Lydia once more, her eyes were damp and her expression sorrowful.

"I just can't help but worry Lydia. What if she loses the child? I don't want her to go through the same thing I did. I fear more and more for her with every day that passes. Late miscarriages are horrible. I speak from experience..."

"I understand, Juniper." Lydia spoke, rubbing her thumb in slow circles across Juniper's shoulder. "But I think we both know that even with Ivy carrying this child to full term, you'd just end up worrying about something else. You'll worry about whether or not she or the child will survive the birth, or if she'll get sick later on like Cornelia did. Or you'll worry that the child might get sick. Or whether or not Ivy can handle the responsibility of motherhood. There's always going to be something to worry about no matter how old they are – that's also something you know from experience."

Juniper nodded slowly, her brows furrowing as what Lydia had said sank in. Either she had already been considering all of these horrible scenarios, or Lydia had just ended up giving rise to concerns Juniper hadn't even thought of yet.

Either way, the human woman refused to leave it at that.

"Listen, I know where you're coming from with this, Juniper, trust me. Ivy is the daughter I never got to have myself, and I worry about these things too. But I also know that me fretting over it won't help anyone – not me, not you or Orion, and especially not Ivy."

"I know, I know. Shale has said the same thing to me many times these past few months." Juniper said, shaking her head at herself. "Worry does nothing for a pregnant female. I know that better than most, but I just cannot help it any more"

Lydia gave her a compassionate look.

"Old habits die hard, huh?"

"What?" Juniper asked, momentarily distracted and clearly perplexed as her flat nose scrunched up and her eyes narrowed in question. Lydia huffed out a short laugh.

"It means that they're hard to get rid of."

"I really do wonder how humans came by these sayings." She signed, though not unkindly, shaking her head. "Still, I envy you sometimes, Lydia. Though you might say strange things, you always seem to have an answer. I think that is part of the reason why Ivy looks up to you. You always know just what to say, while the things I say usually only aggravate her."

Lydia drew up her shoulders and moved her gaze towards the ground.

"That's not true, Juniper. Not by a long shot." She said, picking at her leather gloves. "And most of the time, I just wing it and go by whatever I think is right to say"

"But how do you reach that conclusion? About what is the right thing to say?"

"Honestly? When it comes to stuff like this, I just think about how I would've felt if it had been me. How would I have felt if I had been in Ivy's place? What would I have needed to hear?" Lydia explained as best as she could and watched as comprehension slowly began to appear on the she-ape's face. "Ivy is really lucky to have you, Juniper. There's been so many times that I've wished I could've asked my mom about what to do."

At that, Juniper's head perked up, the smile as she accepted Lydia's compliment at odds with the curious arch of her brow. It was a strange expression.

"Really?" Juniper asked, eyes searching Lydia's face. For what, she didn't know. "I always imagined you to be very similar to Ivy. Wilful and independent from others."

"Even if that's the case, having those traits doesn't mean you can't feel lost and in need of guidance from time to time." Lydia reminded her, to which the ape nodded thoughtfully.

"Of course. I just find it hard to picture you needing guidance in… well, most anything." She said, and Lydia had to restrain the urge to give a friendly roll of her eyes as Juniper went on. "Tell me, when have you ever needed it?"

Lydia waved her hand in the air dismissively.

"Oh, there's been plenty of times. Like when I first got Orion, for example. I had no idea how to take care of a child, human or ape. Hell, I was only just beginning to learn how to properly take care of myself." Lydia said, clasping her hands together in her lap. "Granted, I probably wouldn't have even been in that situation if my mom had still been around in the first place, but… It still would've been nice to be able to receive some motherly advice. Or just some supportive words from her."

Juniper, though clearly surprised at this sudden show of vulnerability, reached over to lay a gentle hand on Lydia's shoulder, not unlike how Lydia had done moments before. Funny, the touch itself seemed rather motherly.

"I did not realise." She said once she removed her hand from Lydia's shoulder to sign once more, now with a curious look on her face. "What was she like? Your mother? You never spoke about her."

The question caught the woman off-guard.

"Well… Uhm…?" She mumbled as she reached up and scratched the back of her head in thought. It wasn't like she couldn't remember, of course. Though their faces had become blurry in Lydia's mind over the years, the memories in which they featured still stood out so clearly, they might as well have happened a week prior. Dad teaching her how to gut a fish. Henry coming into her room at night when he'd had a bad dream. Olivia ranting incessantly about some girl at school who totally had a crush on their biology teacher or something like that. Practising Jiu Jitsu with Matthew inside the house and breaking one of Grandma's vases. Mom waking her up in the morning with a kiss on the cheek and an overly sweet sing-a-song voice, even though Lydia had told her it made her feel like a stupid toddler every time she did it.

Or the time she had spied the shoes of one of Lydia's guy friends in the hallway and, naturally, assumed that they had been up to something in her room, which they hadn't. If her knocking ever so gingerly and peeking through the slit of the door hadn't been enough to give that away, then the fact that she had unceremoniously dumped a few packs of condoms at Lydia's desk the next day as she was doing homework certainly had been.

"Truth be told, she could be really, really annoying sometimes." Lydia said. "Going out of her way to tease me and getting exasperated with me when I didn't 'act like a young lady should'. Like getting into play fights with my brother – or actual fights when people teased him behind his back."

Juniper looked somewhat sheepish at that, her shoulders drawn up ever so slightly.

"Ivy has made similar complaints…" She said. Then, she shook her head. "It's at times like these that I fear I've damaged our bond beyond repair with my worries and admonishments."

Lydia, leaning back on her arm, gave another dismissive wave at her words, stopping the self-deprecating that she knew would come next. It was no secret that, as the years had passed, Juniper had begun to see that her disapproval of Ivy's refusal to fit into the stereotype of ape femininity might have actually only served to hold her daughter back, and she felt extremely guilty about this fact.

Well, at least she had realised and was trying to make up for it. Not everyone, parents or not, would be willing to admit to something like that, let alone try to better themselves. She respected Juniper greatly for this effort.

"Most, if not all children, complain to and about their parents at some point. That doesn't mean you did everything wrong. Not even by a long shot." She explained patiently. "Sure, my mom could be the single most frustrating person I've ever known, maybe except for my sister. But I never doubted her love for me, even when she drove me absolutely nuts. Despite her complains, Ivy is no different in that regard."

"You think so?"

"I know so." Lydia said with infallible confidence, topping it off with a firm nod of her head. Juniper smiled in response and a comfortable silence fell as she seemed to mull over the conversation they had just had.

Just as Lydia decided to close her eyes as she leaned against the tree, Juniper nudged her arm and Lydia turned her attention back to the ape as she began signing once more.

"So, what do you think would be the right thing to say? What would Ivy need to hear?"

"Maybe try to tell her about a good experience you had with pregnancy?" She suggested simply and with a shrug as she turned her eyes skyward to study the grey sky above them. In the distance, the faintest sound of thunder could be heard, indicating that more rain was soon to come.

Juniper didn't say anything, but out of the corner of her eye, Lydia thought she caught a soft nod from the ape.

Suddenly, the sound of urgent hoots and worried gibbering could be heard, and Lydia, Storm and Juniper all turned around in unison to look at the ape charging towards them from the direction of the Ape Village. It was one of the colony's female chimps, and she looked completely out of it. Lydia immediately felt worry gnaw at her gut, hoping that it wasn't something concerning Ivy. Wouldn't that just be both the most horrible news but also the most horrible timing all at once?

Luckily, those fears were put to rest as soon as the ape coming towards them was close enough to stop and sign. Unluckily, though, she soon offered Lydia something entirely new to worry about.

"Lydia, Lydia! Tinker sent me to get you! You must come! It's the garden!" The newcomer, a female by the name of Dana, scrambled to sign as quickly as physically possible.

"What happened?" Lydia asked, immediately getting up and tossing all of her arrows the quiver, uncaring of whether or not they were finished or still needed fletching. Beside her, Juniper got up as well, soon followed by Storm, who was now more alert than Lydia had seen her in weeks.

"The rainfall. It has ruined it. You must come see!" Dana said anxiously, already turning back towards the village and impatiently looking over her shoulder to make sure Lydia would follow.

"Coming with?" The woman asked Juniper, who gave a serious nod and dropped down on all fours to follow as the three of them hurried back to the village.

I'm not sure what they think I can do, Lydia thought as she jumped over the slender trunk of a young, fallen tree lying across the path. If the garden is ruined, there's no way I can just make it grow back, all nice and dandy, after all.

As they ran through the village and out towards the garden, however, it quickly became clear to Lydia that she hadn't been called here because Tinker, or anyone else, expected her to somehow solve the problem. No, she was called here because they needed every single member of the colony not currently out hunting to help control the damage.

Apes were running everywhere all around, mostly females and their young, as well as a few, older males, carrying stones and leftover boards from when the huts had been built. Somewhere in the crowd, Lydia heard the unmistakable sound of Bad Ape's signature string of 'oh, oh, oh no!', and then spotted him trip into a stream of rainwater as it travelled down the steep slope. Nova only just managed to grab on to him and roll him back onto somewhat dry land, with Bad Ape's sparse fur and scavenged human clothing now covered in sopping wet gravel. Further down the slope, Lydia spotted Tinker and Maurice, who were frantically trying to figure out which way to best direct the water away from the garden.

Well, the part of the garden that hadn't already been swept away by the flash flood or been completely submerged by a giant puddle of rainwater.

It was, simply put, all hands on deck.

"Ah, for fuck's sake…!" Lydia cursed, earning herself a surprised look from Juniper, before she sprinted towards Tinker and Maurice, barely managing to do so without falling flat on her face due to the loose sediment.

Maurice was the first to spot her and grabbed her arm when she got close, preventing her from tripping. His large hand was covered in mud and wet gravel, leaving a large imprint of his hand on her bare arm. Not that Lydia cared – she was about to get a whole lot more dirt on her in just a few moments.

"Lydia!" Tinker signed with urgency. "The water! We have to get it away from the rest of the garden!"

"I gathered as much. Listen, we have to dig a trench. I don't think it'll be enough simply dam up the edges of the streams if the water keeps coming." She said, grabbing a piece of the fence that had surrounded the garden, but which had now been uprooted by the water and shoved carelessly aside on the ground. "Where do you think we would have most success with doing that?"

She turned to Maurice, who was already studying the landscape intently, his expression calculating. It wasn't hard to figure out what caused his long pause. While the water seemed to come from a single, wide stream further up the slope, it spread out into multiple streams of varying sizes the further it got down towards them, and it was hard to figure out which one of these would prove the best option for drainage-purposes. Lydia doubted leading the water in a single direction from where the main stream started to split would prove successful – especially since it seemed that more water would be coming soon, what with how the grey clouds above seemed to darken by the minute. Soon, as Lydia had already predicted, more water would come, and the flow would intensify. Not only that, there'd be thunder too, and it'd be dangerous for everyone to be anywhere near water.

Maurice seemed to be of the same mind, because he soon pointed to three different trails, all thick veins which seemed to sweep past on either side of the sad remains of the colony's garden.

"We can deepen those. Enforce the places where they part from the big stream. Lead the water down three single paths instead of spreading." He signed, his movements uncharacteristically quick. Lydia nodded in agreement.

"You two take the ones closest to the village and I take the one over there?" She asked, pointing, and her friends nodded in agreement. Time to get to work.

"Timber! You're with me! Ajax, split everyone into three groups and have them come to either me, Maurice or Tinker!" Lydia barked before she jogged over to the stream she had elected to manage. The leader of the Gorilla Guard did as he was bid without question, rounding up the scattered apes and sending them towards either of the three council members. Had she not been so busy managing her group, getting covered in dirt and grime as she went, Lydia would've found it funny that a big, burly silverback took orders from her without so much as a twitch of his brow. Then again, perhaps he was just happy someone actually took charge, since Caesar and Rocket were still out with their hunting party.

It was hard work digging the streams into trenches deep enough to contain all the water that just kept on coming from the hills and mountains further up from the Ape Village. Just when they thought they had managed to contain it, Lydia's prediction proved true and the rain started pouring down once more. Luckily, by that time, the hunters had all returned and immediately started to help after having hurriedly stowed the day's catch safely away somewhere dry. Caesar immediately went to help Lydia, while Orion went to Maurice and Rocket went to Tinker, each with their own section of hunters in tow. The females returning from their own hunt helped as well – All except for Ivy, of course, who had received strict orders from Lydia to go back to the village, putting her in charge of food preparation for when the job was done. Her daughter-in-law did so without protest, dutifully trudging back to the village with a group of new mothers and elderly apes in tow. Juniper, who had followed Lydia, seemed grateful for that fact.

There had been no time for greetings or chaste pecks on the cheek until after it was all done – or rather, when they had collectively decided that there was nothing more they could do. At least they had managed to salvage what seemed to be one third of the garden…

The rain hadn't stopped as they all made their way back to the village, completely covered in filth and soaked to the very bone. Bad Ape had lost his knitted hat during their collective endeavour and only seemed to have discovered it now, grasping at the top of his head with wide, confused eyes until Nova managed to distract him with a hand on his shoulder. A clap of thunder rumbled above, followed by a flash of light, making Bad Ape jump and Maurice tug Nova closer to his side as they reached the Ape Village. Lydia, beyond exhausted, leaned heavily on Caesar's arm as she said her goodbyes to the other council members, her eldest son and Ivy's parents before making it the long way up the their hut atop the tree on the hill.

Once she made it all the way to the top of the walkway winding around the tree's trunk, getting ready to enter her home and shed her dirty clothes as fast as humanly possible, Lydia dared a glance down at the village below. Her eyes immediately found Orion and Ivy's hut.

"Are you coming, Lydia?" Came Caesar's puzzled voice from within their home.

Lydia, returning to the present, shook her thoughts of Juniper's troubles from her mind and went inside.

"Sure, sure." She called back. "Say, did you wipe the dogs' paws, Caesar?"

The low, annoyed rumble that followed told her he definitely hadn't.


Ivy

Ivy's fingers worked deftly as she weaved the dry fibres together, occasionally stopping to review her work. It was different from the baskets she usually made, this… well, thing. In truth, it was more like a hammock in its shape, but that was okay. It was more or less what she was going for. An ape-child-sized hammock.

She smiled at the thought. It wasn't like she intended for their child to sleep anywhere else than their nest, but recently, Ivy's had felt a tingle in her fingers to do something in preparation for the child's arrival. During one of their talks, Lydia had mentioned how human infants had been placed in something she had called a 'crib', and that these would sometimes be constructed so that they were able to rock the child gently from side to side to calm it. Her mother-in-law had recounted how she and her siblings had all used the same one as children, one her own father had put together from wood and painted in a light blue colour.

'Clearly, he expected his firstborn to be a boy. Didn't bother to repaint it once Olivia was born.' She remembered Lydia saying.

Ivy had no idea why the colour blue was connected with having a male child, but hadn't inquired further about it. Even now, she wondered what humans considered a female's colour. Where did the idea of assigning a colour to males and females even come from in the first place?

Truly, humans were a strange bunch.

Still, Ivy had immediately been taken with the idea of the crib. It seemed like a sweet idea, to make something with her own, two hands which could comfort her child. Orion had liked it too, and had even suggested that they raise it up inside the hut with ropes once the child got older and better at climbing. That way, it could work as a swing as well, and their child would be able to climb around and test their skills while still in the vicinity of Ivy and Orion's watchful eyes.

Ivy chuckled at that, the sound almost jarring against the soft pitter-patter of the rain hitting their hut's roof. Chance, who was lying against her thigh, raised her head and stared up at Ivy with large and inquisitive brown eyes at the sound of her laughter, her one floppy ear bobbing merrily with the movement.

Ivy reached down and petted the dog's head affectionately, earning herself a lick against her fingertips before Chance once again moved to rest her head on top of her front paws, and Ivy was allowed to return to her project.

Orion hadn't come home yet, having gone to deal with the day's catch together with a few other apes before the meat had a chance to spoil. He had taken Fang with him, so as of right now, Ivy and Chance had the hut all to themselves.

Well, Ivy smiled. Really, it was her, Chance and whoever was inside Ivy's swollen belly.

Pausing once more with what she was doing, Ivy laid a tentative hand against her own abdomen, trying to quell the anxiousness that churned inside her chest until she felt a gentle kick against her palm.

She sighed, and felt a soft frown replacing the smile on her face.

Perhaps it is time I give up the hunts? She thought, remembering how Lydia had immediately ordered her to return to the village instead of helping to save the garden after she had returned with the females.

She hadn't minded. Of course, she had wanted to help, but Ivy wasn't so irresponsible as to overexert herself while pregnant just to prove a point – like her mother seemed to believe.

Then again, wasn't the urge to prove herself part of what had made her cling so stubbornly on to her role as leader of the hunts? Even though she had been feeling more and more tired these last couple of weeks?

Ivy sighed. Perhaps she was irresponsible? Perhaps Mother was right, and she was actually putting herself and her child in danger? Perhaps something had already gone wrong and she just didn't know? Because she had been too stubborn? Too proud? Too…

Wilful...

Just then, as if the unspoken word had conjured her, a gentle knock sounded against the hut's entrance and before Ivy could as much as hoot in response, Mother had already let herself in, hurriedly closing the door against the horrible weather outside.

"Mother!" Ivy exclaimed, setting her weaving aside and moving to get up. "You are drenched!"

Before Ivy could rise from the floor, Mother had already picked up a skin hanging by the doorway and begun drying off her fur, chittering all the while for Ivy to not bother with it and stay put.

She did as she was bid, for the time being, as Chance bounded up to Mother, wagging her tail incessantly until the older ape came over to sit down.

Once her 'pack' was gathered in the same place, Chance went back to Ivy's side, looking expectantly between the two apes as if treats would soon start falling from their hands. They wouldn't, and she very well knew that, Ivy thought, but seemed like Chance wouldn't let such a small trifle deter her. Ivy could only admire her optimism.

"How is your… swing, coming?" Mother asked, eyeing the partially-woven hammock with curious eyes. Ivy chuckled at her choice of words as she held the item up to show her progress.

"I am half done now. Do you like the pattern?" Ivy asked as she let Mother trace a single digit across the woven material. She nodded in response, and the admiration in her eyes made Ivy's chest swell with pride. At least this was something she did that her mother approved of.

They sat and chatted aimlessly for a long while, with thunder clapping outside and the rain showing no sign of stopping anytime soon. Ivy didn't mind, however. Even with Chance around, it did get lonely at times when Orion wasn't around.

It's probably going to be like that more often from now on, she thought, once again laying a hand on her belly, unable to stop herself before Mother's eyes caught the movement, and a crease appeared between her brows.

And just like that, the mood in the hut changed.

"Listen, Ivy, I came because I wanted to speak to you." Mother said, her expression gentle and apologetic, which made Ivy feel all the worse for dreading what she knew was to come. "I wanted to… tell you something. About pregnancy… And what you can expect from it."

Ivy fought hard to repress the frown that threatened to appear on her face, dreading yet another lecture about the dangers and sorrows of miscarriages and childbirth. She didn't think she could sit through another conversation like that.

"Mother…" She began, pursing her lips as Mother held up a hand, asking for silence.

"Please, let me finish before you tell me you don't need my advice. If, when I am done, you tell me you still don't need it, then I promise I will not bring this up again. But please, Ivy, allow me this once chance to right a wrong and impart something useful to you."

Ivy winced ever so slightly at her mother's wording, guilt eating at her gut. And not only that, but Mother's word also sounded…. Rehearsed? As if she had spoken them to herself over and over. As if she had been preparing for Ivy's rejection of the subject. That made Ivy feel doubly guilty, especially since it seemed that Mother knew exactly why she didn't want to speak about it.

Reluctantly, she nodded, and steeled herself for whatever lecture was coming her way. She couldn't very well deny her Mother when she reasoned like this, even if she knew that she probably wouldn't uphold her promise about not touching on the subject again if Ivy told her she didn't want it.

Mother, seemingly satisfied, nodded in turn and drew in a slow breath. Then, quite unexpectedly, her mouth curved into a small smile and a mischievous glint appeared in her eyes.

And just like that, Ivy knew this conversation would be different. Different from all the others. Different in a good way.

And she relaxed immediately.

"Pregnancy. I wanted to tell you about how wonderful it can be. How exciting it was for me and your father." Mother said, the small smile playing at her lips widening into a full-blown grin. "Back when we were expecting you."