Scar-Faced Hag
"I don't know how something like this could've happened!"
Sat at the Noble's kitchen table, Cora rested her chin in the palm of her hand, elbow pressed to the surface. She scowled down at Lula, who was more than content with her spot on the floor and a bowl full of food.
The racyon had almost doubled in size in the past month, though it could be hard to tell given that she'd never quite been loose skin and fur. Shock at the recent revelation still hadn't quite worked its way from Cora's system. A quick holo-consult with Sylvania, a Ukatian racyon breeder, confirmed that Lula was indeed healthy, and carrying anywhere from six to ten kits.
Six to ten. Ashla help me.
Cora let out a frustrated sigh and wrapped both hands around her cup of tea.
"What am I going to do with them once they're here? It won't be long now. I've no idea how to be a…"
Mother? No, that wasn't right. Aunt? Caretaker? Racyon peddler?
"...a nanny."
Cora wrinkled her nose and took a sip of her tea. She'd come here to decompress – to complain, really – and to maybe get some more maternal advice from Valery.