The warmth of the day rises restlessly, stagnant and bleached, through the trees. They've just finished the annual complaining about the cold and as such, it's time to start bitching about the heat. Sablefrost fixes firm on her face her mask of perfected discontent. It's had a lot of use recently.
Strongclaw peers at her, tail slowly stirring the dirt. "I don't think this heat is good for the babies," he announces suddenly, and she just sneers at him.
"This heat isn't good for anyone," she snaps at him. She is lying stretched on her side, hoping to dispel her discomfort by the application of evenly distributed bodyweight. It does nothing to flatten the discernible bulge of her stomach. And yet Strongclaw cons her into getting up and staggering through the forest to the river. She simply lies on the bank, for once in her life grateful for mud, while her pair wades in serenely, some aquatic adaptation within him attracted to the water. Strongclaw splashes water at her, but Sablefrost only hisses at him.
"What?" he laughs, innocently. "Don't you know how to swim?"