Swiftcurrent Creek Together we're lost in a dream.

Set for April 28th.

"Constantine," she mustered softly, when she felt the first stage of her pregnancy's end bring discomfort in the form of gentle cramping in the pit of her belly, "it's time."

Durnehviir stayed close to her mate for several hours following this realisation, letting herself bask alongside him in the excited anticipation that soon, they would welcome their litter into the world. She leaned heavily against him for support, knowing her body would require the rest, and appreciated the swarthy Alphas company all through the morning until the increasing discomfort in her abdomen forced her to her paws. She circled the den and paced the clearing beyond it, waddling awkwardly in attempt to ease what felt like strengthening constriction around her waist.

When evening fell and the dull throb turned almost constant, she asked for privacy. Her pale, pain-filled eyes pleaded with @Constantine that he let her be and regardless of whether he complied or not, the russet Frostfur slipped into the darkness of her burrow - though she would not have hesitated to clack her teeth in his direction should he decide to follow. On the ground she curled close to herself, willing her muscles to slacken but finding they could not. Her own mother had wished to whelp in peace, as had her grandmother before them. Unknown to her, it was the way of Samarkand females - do it alone, or die trying.

She squirmed, twisting her small frame awkwardly to hoist a rear limb into the air and investigate her soon-to-be-assaulted nether region, to find her thighs slick with fluid. This is normal, Durnehviir urged herself to believe, even though she had zero experience in delivering pups. She desired Constantine's soothing tone in that moment as anxiety quickened her heart but instead of barking for attention, she gritted her teeth and steeled herself against another contraction. 

Finally, as time ticked beyond midnight, the first of Swiftcurrent Creek's newest additions came writhing into existence. Durnehviir gathered him to her, severing their physical connection with a careful nip and freeing him from the membrane that surrounded his tiny body. Her tongue swept over his little face, clearing his airway to make way for the sound of his voice, then along the length of his back in firm strokes. Beneath the moisture his pelt was downy-soft and, curiously, as white as untouched snow. "Viinturuth," she crooned, her voice a delicate whisper that threatened to crack beneath the weight of her emotion. Durnehviir had known the name of her first-born son long before she'd even dared to dream up children of her own, for she felt it to be the most fitting tribute to the wolf who had raised her.

Viinturuth, his mother spoke. While he could not register the name she'd given him, he recognised the lull of her tone from his time in the womb. Despite being overwhelmed by the sudden change in his environment, the little Frostfur-Mayfair found some comfort in the vibration of Durnehviir's gentle voice.

He wriggled closer, seeking to be close to her for warmth and security, and buried his tiny snout among the soft ivory fur of her undersides. Viinturuth cooed, his nose working through his dam's pelt until he sourced a teat. Latching without hesitation, as though he'd always known how, the pallid newborn sucked vigorously while his stubby white tail whipped to attention between his outstretched hind limbs - content at last.

Where Durnehviir held a nervous excitement, Constantine was silently protective and apprehensive. He was never far from her side – enclosing her in his warmth as they lay in wait, trying to coax names from her as the time passed by, hoping to keep her mind from the pain. It worked for some time, but soon his beloved began to pace, and in turn, he did as well, every so often his nose snaking out to gingerly brush against her in reassurance. It was a hopeless feeling, watching her work through the pain and being unable to do anything about it – and feeling wholly responsible for it. He had been the one to impregnate her, after all.
 
Sliding his tongue across his inked lips, only when Durnehviir settle in to the seclusion of their den, requesting to be alone, did a gentle whine emit from him. He crept after her, met with a flash of teeth and a warning snarl that mingled with pain, enough to stir him backward and out of her grasp.
 
With his ears slick upon his skull, the shadowrunner slid his stocky form to the cold ground outside of the whelping den, his eyes intense upon the entrance as he awaited any noise, any sign that his mate would be okay. There was movement – whispering, and the gentle lap of tongue upon flesh, and he felt a swell of uncertainty. In this moment, everything was about to change.

Her little dragon shimmied around, seeking the comfort his mother's warmth. Durnehviir smiled happily down, raising a slender forelimbs to keep her gaze trained on him as he scooted beneath her underarm to bury his snout among her furs to suckle. With him latched and feeding, the new mother relaxed significantly, and took advantage of the brief opportunity to curl herself protectively around her baby before a familiar ache tightened her abdomen.

The second pup that came from her was dark-furred, the opposite of his brother. Durnehviir smoothed his pelt with her tongue until he cried out, his yowl as strong the child before him. Breathing a sigh of relief, her nose gently explored his tiny frame around in their nest so she could better examine him before, satisfied that he was healthy, nudging him to her breast alongside Viinturuth.

Akavir knew only warmth and contentment – so of course, when entering the world, the dark whelp gave a wail of his protest so the sudden change. He only settled when the gentlest touch he would ever know grazed over him, comforting him, welcoming him. He was soon tucked against her side, pressing in to his frosted brother – the complete opposite of his own coloration, but something he would not notice until older. Snuggled against the two warm bodies, instinct drew his mouth to one of his mother’s teats, and it was then he began to satiate his hunger. Adapting as quick as that, the boy fell back in to a slumber, the scent of his mother and brother forever imprinting on him.

@Akatosh, you're up!

Two! There were two. Two perfect, beautiful little sons. The crimson Alphess beamed down at her boys with utmost love as they nestled close to one another - already bonded. Durnehviir's heart swelled larger than she thought it capable, her gentle eyes drifting between her yin-and-yang offspring as they quietly mewled before she wrapped herself around them to rest.

Exhaustion weighed her eyelids, and she managed to drift off for a few minutes before pain roused her from any possibility of slumber. She woke with a start, gaze fleeing to desperately look upon her brood and assure herself that they were still there while pain thrummed through her belly. The next pup was on its way and, straining herself bared her fangs and furrowed her brow as the urge to push overcame her once more.

Her third baby took its time, though she refused to give up despite her waning strength. This one was also a son and when he was clean and settled, Durnehviir drew her head back to look at him. She studied his pelt - hues similar to her own - and her heart leapt joyfully as she reached out again to caress his downy back with the tip of her snout. Nostrils flared, she breathed deep his warm puppy scent and grinned upon noticing her third-born's adorable little pink-splotched nose. Nudging him alongside her other little boys to feed, she mentally prepared herself for the contraction she knew would come, for she did not expect this child to be the last.

The world had been rather, well, dull so far, and this sudden change in sensations was quite overwhelming!  Movements were much clearer here, there were scents -- there were those that must have been his family but every once and a while there was a whiff of an overwhelming number coming from somewhere else, faint and frightening -- there was a surface beneath him that didn't give way to wiggles, and let's not forget the comparative cold.  Why would anyone want to be here? It was awful and he was helpless, his instincts cried!

As soon as he was able, he roared like the mighty beast he was, expressing his great displeasure that the world was no longer so comfortably snug, warm, and weightless. But really, it was just a series of tiny squeaks as he was cleaned, poked and prodded, then ushered to his mother's side, accidentally jabbing at one of his older brothers with an uncontrollable paw before properly orienting himself.  It was all so very confusing in this blind new world but Akatosh finally quieted when he at last had milk to pacify his complaints.

@Talos, your turn! Then @Constantine can come see.  :D

As she expected, her next child was eager not to be left behind. Durnehviir jerked upward when a particularly sharp wave of pain caused her to yip in surprise, likely unlatching the trio that nursed from her, and leaned awkwardly over them to set about tending to her abused lady parts. She nipped at the matted, blood-stained fur around her thighs and squirmed through the discomfort, before slumping tiredly onto her elbows with a grunt.

From her came an ebony babe, considerably larger in comparison to its littermates - and thus, Durnehviir lazily assumed this one to be male. Exhausted, she struggled to pull herself together and tend to the fourth puppy, who wailed in protest as she gripped him between her jaws and placed him between her trembling forelimbs to be cleaned.

A new day began to dawn by the time she held all of her offspring close to her, tucked in a neat row alongside her as she snuggled herself around them, muzzle and tail draped protectively over their frames. She closed her eyes and fought the desire for sleep, lifting her muzzle only long enough to beckon her mate to meet his children with a soft woof.

@Constantine, you can come i~i~i~in  ;)

Finally, there was a little space in this womb. Talos stretched out luxuriously along the long empty uterine horn for the briefest of moments. But the rippling contractions were only a few breaths in coming, and no matter how she squirmed and dug her stubby paws into the warm and comforting walls they inexorably shoved her down and out, to spill down into a cold, alien world nosefirst with an audible thud.

She opened a bawling mouth wide in protest at the unfairness of this, but it was another moment before the enveloping sac was sliced open and her fading protests became audible. She wrinkled her tiny black nose and squirmed in place: where was she? What was happening? About the only source of familiarity was the musky scent of her mother's body tanged now with only hints of blood. She squalled anew as gigantic teeth surrounded her and set her aflight for the briefest of instants. There was no escape! She turned her head to and fro and found herself surrounded by enormous fuzzy walls stretching away into eternity on either side—and then from high above came The Tongue.

Her little lungs were not up to the task of a full-blown adult wolf howl, to be sure, but they certainly tried. Her even less impressive attempts at thrashing free of this insulting indignity were less productive yet. The noises faded only somewhat as Durnheviir's patient tongue laid long furrows down the largest pup's back, revealing fur of pristine coal beneath all the muck and mess. But the giant among pups' now-whimpering protests and attempts to escape to safety—put me back, put me BACK!!!—only stilled entirely when her momma picked her up again and stuffed her in amongst three not-entirely-foreign shapes. Talos's nose twitched, and she kicked one of the other fuzzy lumps straight in the head as she squirmed her way toward the top of the pile, to latch on with a will to the protrusion she instinctively knew to be the ultimate source of mana from heaven, and begin vigorously suckling.

She turned back to her babes to watch them, to listen to the soft coos that they emitted as the paddled her undersides with tiny paws to free her milk into their greedy mouths. The sensation was foreign to her, but Durnehviir did not squirm from it. She welcomed the opportunity to nurse them, to strengthen the bond that would surely last a lifetime.

They wriggled among themselves, exploring her undersides and each other, and the dreamy smile on her pale muzzle failed to dissipate as she gazed lovingly down at the four precious bundles that she and @Constantine had created. "They are perfect," she told her mate quietly, making to exchange a glance with him to gauge his reaction before returning her soft eyes to the pups once more.