Wilwarin was at the lake's edge. She'd found a path within Aummauttuk that was easy for her to climb along and it descended towards a shallow patch of earth. Here she could hide out whenever the desire rose within her.
She was there now, watching the water. The sky was clear and blue above, and reflected across the glassy surface of the lake, along with a sense of peace. She watched as fish stole sips of air or sluiced through the water, leaving rings that echoed their presence.
It felt as if something had changed within Wilwarin after her time with Ajâtsuk. She did not think about the bear as much when she was awake. It felt good to be at peace, even if it only lasted a few hours at a time.
Lótë found her way to Anik Lake as if pulled. She'd not known that Wilwarin had made its shores her own sort of spirit place, but when she spotted her youngest child, she padded silently to her side and sat beside her. For a long time, Lótë did not speak, thinking perhaps the butterfly would rather be alone and would show this in some manner.
At last, the dove turned to her daughter. "Is your spirit heavy, titta-cúa?" It had been sometime since she dared to think of her child as a bird of peace, as the white dove, like her sire. But the spirit-bear's shadow had long been lifted from the village. There was more of Kukutux in Wilwarin than the wintry warrior.
For a while she was alone with her thoughts.
When mother-dove made her own appearance, Wilwarin glanced at her and felt the white puff of her tail twiching where it curled around her sharp little hips. She smiled but said nothing, not even mouthing a word, for a long time; it was Amil who broke the stillness with a question.
The girl shook her little head, no, and inhaled a long, slow breath. She regarded the stillness of the water for a moment longer and then turned to focus her attention upon present company, the smile gone from her face.
Anaa 'Oba has her baby, and Kukutux has her little ones too. It feels busy everywhere but here.
This was what the woman's circle was like, then. The constant hustle of children well minded. The ever-present crooning of little voices. Wilwarin pauses in her mouthing of words to gather more thoughts, and her cheeks grow warm.
Will you also have little ones again?
Lótë was relieved to hear this, it had been too long since she had seen Wilwarin move with a lightness in her steps. They had both suffered at the claws of the bear but the youngest of her first litter had borne the scars on her soul.
"Ah," she sighed in realization. Nodding, she remarked, "It is good to find quiet moments in the business. It is something mothers know much about." Here, she smiled as if letting the butterfly in on a secret -- one that could be shared now that her daughter was growing into a woman.
Blinking her peridots in surprise, the doe glanced down at the rounded bump of her stomach. Her heart picked up a nervous beat, having yet to share this particular secret with any of her older cubs -- wanting to be certain before she revealed what was to come.
"Aya," the cloudberry wisped quietly. "I believe I will. My totem fought with another's and his conquered my own." It was a subject Kukutux had schooled her on, even though the three-year was already a wife and mother.
"What do you think of this?" Lótë glanced to the elvin sprite, waiting.
The warmth in her face shifted slightly as Wilwarin smiled again, finding Amil amusing for her comment about quiet moments. It had been disorienting to listen to the births, and frightening afterwards as the children cried. She wondered briefly if the newborns found more comfort in the chaos than the quiet, or if they were aware at all.
With the talk of totems, Wilwarin grew concerned. She did not like the idea of such things - two totems fighting betwixt themselves - and did not understand the deeper meaning that Lótë held with her words. What do you think of this?
It felt like a loaded question.
I... I like them, the little ones. There are so many of them now. I think I would like to be the big sister.
As she mouthed these things she had a furrowed upon her face, a look far too serious for her gaunt cheeks that briefly aged Wilwarin beyond her days.
She was intrigued by the idea but also afraid, knowing now that there was a painful sacrifice to be made, so that they could be born. Kukutux had endured it for her little ones, and presumably so had Shikoba for her son. It was not something Wilwarin could accept at her age, and she worried.
Lótë watched the pale girl's face carefully -- a pain striking her to realize, again, that she would not be a girl much longer. How fleeting were the days of young childhood, but she could not ponder on that thought long. A small smile graced her face, relieved as she was that her older children might receive new siblings with acceptance and joy.
Then, she addressed the concern niggling in the back of her skull like a persistent bee about a flower. "It must seem scary -- what we go through to bring our children into the world. It is." She saw no reason to lie to Wil, it was important her daughter knew the truth should she ever decide to become Amil herself.
"There is great pain. For great things are often born in pain. But, it is worth every second of pain," Lótë reassured her as best she could, dipping her head so she might catch the amber and gold of the butterfly's gaze and show she meant these words. "It was a great struggle to bring you all into this world but I have delighted in being your mother. I would suffer it ten times over if it meant the result was the same -- holding you all close against me and breathing your scent in the first time."
"Motherhood is not for every woman. It is possible that you may not ever feel the call to bear your own cubs," the dove informed her, not unkindly. This was just as acceptable as raising ten litters. It did not determine a woman's worth. "But I only want you to know that the joy of meeting your child and raising them -- it makes it all worth it."
Amil had a lesson for her. It was not necessary, thought Wilwarin as she listened, because she had come to accept this knowledge already. The encounter with the bear had so frightened her and pained her, but through that moment came a shift to Wilwarin's spirit; Kukutux had spoken of it, of the totem, and so Wilwarin knew it to be true. Great things are often born in pain. Yes; but at the same time, Wilwarin knew she would not be the one to seek out those things herself.
She smiled warmly to her mother, but she did not have words. A part of her was still afraid for the sake of their family. What if the pain was so great that Amil could not handle it? The thought of losing someone so dear to her was heart-breaking, and so Wilwarin would not entertain it for long. It made her feel ill in a similar way to how the bear made her feel: a churn to her stomach, a burn to the back of her throat, as if her heart were about to explode.
Her mind wandered - she let it go, for a time. The stillness returned to the lake as the fish took notice of not one, but two wolves there, and vanished to the depths. When she was ready Wil stood up and stretched to ease the tension that had coagulated with her fear. She moved closer to Amil and rested her cheek upon her mother's shoulder fondly.
Lótë couldn't be sure what her daughter was thinking but she hoped she had eased some of the pale sylph's fear. Perhaps it was a normal part of growing up. There had been a time when the cloudberry was young that the cries of whelping dens had terrified her to no end and she had sworn she would never be a mother. Perhaps it was something all young she-wolves feared -- and rightly so.
The herd-stalker let it rest for now, knowing there wasn't much else that could be said to soothe Wilwarin's nerves -- things would be alright in time and hopefully the arrival of new siblings would overshadow any fear that struck her older cubs when she went into labor. The totem of the bear was strong, Lótë had carried many hard things. And it would do her no good to fall into fear over the future herself.
Instead, she curled her head over Wil's own -- resting her cheek atop the butterfly's ivory crown -- and breathed the sweet smell of her in once more, trying very had not to think of the day when they would be the same height.