Ankyra Sound oh, green world -- don't deserve me now

The ghost had been banished from her side for a time being. He had paced outside the entrance to the birthing den with wild, risen fur along his nape and shoulders. The ragged brute trudged from one space to the next, tiring his old frame and working himself down from his high. Through their birthing, he could hear Caiaphas cry out, and he wished to dispel the foul things that would cause her harm, but he knew it was a reason to keep him out. When all was quiet save for the sound of small voices squealing through the dark grotto, he swung his head round and moved in closer to see them.

Four balls of life were tucked closely to her stomach. His molten stare roamed over each of their frames with a fraction of admiration for how delicate they were. It was peculiar to him that life could start so small and frail, only to grow into powerful beasts of might. With heavy eyes, he treaded carefully around them so that he could place himself next to her. Kierkegaard knew she would be tired and he was not there to rouse her from any rest she might need, but to support her as a silent sentry while she nursed their children into their new lives.