Swiftcurrent Creek Dovahkiin.

When Paarthurnax asked for privacy, Bazi did as she was told. She lingered outside for some time, listening to her friend struggle through contractions and shuffle around the den. As the labour intensified, it drove the white female a little further away, until she the only thing she could hear were the peaks of the labouring wolf's agony. Bazi winced each time Paarthurnax cried out, but resisted the urge to cover her ears. One day, it would be her turn.

After what seemed like hours - and it probably was hours - she heard a voice. It was over. Bazi was on her feet and at the door within seconds, her heart beating so fast that she wasn't sure if it had stopped. She shuffled forward, lowering her head into the den. The air was sticky, and smelled strongly of 'birth' - Bazi knew it instinctively, though she could not break the scent down into its constituent parts.

"Are they here?" she whispered, plate-sized eyes fixed on vague outline of Paarthurnax's face. She knew the answer, but wanted an official invitation before stepping in to greet the little bundles that she could just about make out against the pale background of their mother's belly.