After the Pushing Queen left, peaceful winter days continued. There were a series of unsuccessful hunts, but the swarm covered their needs by eating food supplies. Even though the flydeers outsmarted workers a couple of times, there was still enough smaller game. And it was good that the change of leader happened during winter, when there were fewer tasks to do. Rationally, Bug understood all this. There was no solid reason for her to be nervous. Yet sometimes Kindhearted's attempts to cheer her up led to the opposite reaction. One moment he could irritate her, then another she would seek his attention and demand it. This restlessness and mood swings were wearing her out. She found it harder to move as freely as before, which was frustrating enough. But at least she could blame this on her mate, who constantly fed her with the best pieces from the hunt and the leftovers from the nectar.

Now that she occupied the queen's room together with Kindhearted, Bug tried to make their "bed" as comfortable as possible. The soft layer of grass had turned dry and could not be replaced in the winter. So, she plucked some of her own fur to soften the ground. Kindhearted followed her example. The room felt cozier, at least from the wolf's point of view. And this made her worries ease for some time.

It was a nice morning, but she felt cold. Thinking that a short stroll would help her get warmer, Bug left the nest. Dawn was outside. But instead of greeting her, he gently pushed her back towards the den. She was already annoyed by her body's caprices, so instead of following soldier’s advice, Bug headed to the creek.

There was no calendar in the nest, and she lost track of time several times. All she could rely on were her memories of her first year in the South-West territory. The weather began to get warmer, and the thin ice on the puddles and creek melted. Bug skipped breakfast but drank cold fresh water greedily. When her thirst had been quenched, she looked at her reflection in the water.

She knew that the queen's mane changed color and expected hers to turn gray. But instead, it turned scarlet. The first time she saw this change, it baffled her. Now, she was used to seeing her reflection, even though her mane still looked bright. 'I wonder if it's different because I used to be human before. Wait. I'm still a human.' Bug stared at herself, trying hard to remember the last time she had changed into her human form. It was a perfectly sensible decision to remain as a wolf during the cold winter. 'Yes, it's fine. Spring is just around the corner. I can change when it's warm and sunny again.'

The thunder rumbling confirmed her thoughts - the first spring rain was about to begin. Bug stretched her legs before heading back to the nest. But she had walked too far away from the hill. Feeling the first drops on her back, she hurriedly sought shelter in a badger's den between two large rocks. The den was small, so she widened it a little and still could barely fit inside. But even this shallow hole was better than being out in the open. From time to time, the tip of her nose was hit by raindrops. 'I hope the owner won't return anytime soon.' Shivering, Bug curled up and started to doze off.

Her sleep was short and restless. The light spring rain she had been expecting turned into a rainstorm. She woke up completely when hailstones started to hit the branches and the rocks above her head. Despite the shelter, she was still shivering. But what was even more worrying was that her stomach hurt, and it was impossible to return to the nest for the time being.

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'It hurts. Would it be better to change into human?' Suddenly, the thought that she might fall ill scared Bug. She did not know any herbs or ways to heal. Despite her disability, she had been healthy most of her life. The elderly couple were reluctant to waste any medicine on her, let alone an expensive one. Usually, she just lay in bed, waiting for her illness to pass. 'That's right. I just need to do what I always do. It will go away if I lie down for a while. Even better if I can fall asleep.' She closed her eyes, trying to ignore the sharp, repeated pain and hoping it would stop.

But it didn't.

The intervals between pains became shorter. 'I shouldn't have left the nest,' trying to calm her body thought Bug. There was medicine there and the support of the swarm, not to mention the warm shelter from the storm. Lying on her side, she winced at another pain. The feeling became even more strange than before, as if something was about to burst out of her. She closed her eyes; tens of theories crossed her mind already. At that point, it didn't matter anymore whether she was poisoned or if some parasite had infested her body; whatever it was, she simply wanted to get better.

One push and something left her body. Panting and shivering, Bug tried to catch her breath. A sense of relief made her relax for a moment. Then she lifted her head and turned to the cause of her illness. A small dark ball connected to a lump of blood lay behind her. Having worked all her life with animals, Bug knew all too well what it was.

For a moment, she froze in disbelief. It was such an obvious result of her acceptance of Kindhearted as her mate, but it didn't make it any less shocking. The whole situation felt too unreal to her. Bug sniffed the pup. It was covered in a transparent sack, still connected to the placenta. On the farm, she watched animals giving birth pretty often. In most cases, they did well on their own. Sometimes, the help of owners was required, and in difficult cases, a local vet was involved. Bug remembered how scissors were used to remove sacks. However, for obvious reasons, this couldn't be done in her case. Instead, she had to follow the animal's example. She bit through the sack and the umbilical cord and started cleaning the pup. Under her tongue, the dark furry ball twitched and moved. It took its first breath.

She barely finished tending to the first pup, and then, one by one, two more followed. When they were all cleaned, Bug took a breather. She watched them crawl beside her. Their eyes were closed; their short, soft black fur was interspersed with gray spots. The whole situation felt like a dream. The pups moved closer, poking their tiny muzzles into her belly. 'Should I turn? No. I can't feed all of them in human form.' First shock has subsided. All she felt was peaceful calmness. Bug laid down her head, trying to shelter the newborns from the outside cold. 'They are my children.'

The storm weakened. When she felt the familiar presence, Bug opened her eyes. Kindhearted was nearby, searching for her with Dawn and Clear-Eyed. The rain washed away her scent, so it took them a while to track her down. 'We will need to move you to the nest. It's warm and safe in your new home. But you need to be strong and endure the trip', she licked the nearby pup, hoping her feelings and closeness would calm them down.