The air was crisp in the meadow that they made camp in that night. Sten was working the campfire, Tilda was fussing about her tent, and Brandon read from his book. They altogether seemed unaware of their fourth companion, either out of respect or slight annoyance, who was making her way through this night’s bout of evening sickness.

Morrigan splashed some water from her canteen on her weary face, cleaning off any sick that she still had on her. Getting up from her hunched position, the redhead arched her back, pushing her belly out even further than it already was. She appeared to be in her ninth month of pregnancy, easily. She swished with the rest of the canteen and spat it out. She pulled out a hand mirror and gave herself a once over.

The first thing one would notice when looking at her, aside from the belly, would be her eyes. She had a beautiful set of dark green eyes, almost matching the leaves of the tree she stood underneath. Her face was delightfully squeezable, the pregnancy offering just a slight amount of roundness to her already softly circular shape. Her red hair was kept in an messy braid, “decorated” with leaves and other things one might find from a day in the overgrowth that was the surrounding countryside. Her slightly pointed ears, befitting a half elf like herself, had a set of piercings and jewelry, a dove in the right and a bluejay in the left.

Before the bump she was blessed with a perfectly hourglass figure, now she had perhaps the most satisfyingly round ass and grip-able set of hips in the realm. And as one might imagine, her bust was large beforehand at a 36 DD, now at the very least a 39 G, the pregnancy once again working its magic. Hands on her sides now, thoroughly dismayed with her current state of being, she made her way back to camp.

She did her best not to waddle in, eventually collapsing by her bedroll. “Feeling alright?” the mound of dwarven muscle known as Sten grunted.

“Oh just fi-“

“I still don’t know why you’re out here,” Brandon interjected, not bothering to look up from his tome. “Shouldn’t you be... I don’t know. At a temple? Or at a midwife’s? Plenty of other rangers could’ve taken this job.”

Morrigan rolled her eyes and propped herself on an elbow. “Well, a couple things with that. Firstly, bold of you to assume I have the funds to stay a temple that handles situations like mine. Secondly, I prefer being out here than in town, and thirdly, perhaps the most important one, Brandon, you’d all be absolutely lost without me.” At the last remark she flashed a smile that, while going on unnoticed by the offending party, still felt good to let off.

He sighed and shook his head. “Forget I said anything.”

“Gladly!” Morrigan beamed and looked over at Tilda’s tent. The Halfling walked out holding her breastplate and a rag, polishing it off after the days journey. “Tilda, you know it’s just going to get dirty tomorrow, why don’t you just leave it be?”

“Some of us also like taking baths daily, and you really aren’t one to talk on the merits of personal hygiene, tracker. Besides, the lustrous shimmer off the plate really strikes fear into the hearts of the wicked.”

“Riiiiight,” Morrigan said as she rolled onto her back. “Anyway, what’s the watch order tonight?”

Sten spoke up, “Myself, Tilda, the boy, and then you. Figured you should have your ‘beauty rest,’ don’t need you getting cranky on us again.”

“Ah much appreciated, although I’m sure I’ll be seeing all of you at least once tonight.” The dwarf chuckled while the younger man shook his head yet again, burying himself into his book further.

At that, she situated herself as well as she could and pulled her hood over her eyes. A few minutes later sleep found her peacefully.