Through the night her discomfort has grown and Hemlock, in turn, has become more restless. She did not panic, thinking back to when she had seen Lotte through her birth and had seen her godchildren earthside. It had been one of the most brilliant moments of her life, but, it was terrifying all the same. She did not know anyone at that exact moment that she might call to accompany her, not wanting to scar @Eirlys but not sure she wanted @Witchdoctor present. She knew she didn't want to disturb Tapat or Ceallach, the boys were both to young to endure such an event. She briefly considered if @Seri would have been interested in learning, but, what a horrific teacher she would have made right then! 

Somewhere far away her thoughts touched on her grayscale missing ward and she wondered what Sirius would have done. He had been so put out with Ran sharing their space even briefly, and she couldn't imagine how confusing this all might have been to him now. She wondered too where Roarke and Mallaidh were, if they might have been happy for their parents and their love, or resented her as the curse she still felt she was. Ceallach was more outspoken than his paler sister but still she couldn't tell if the boy was happy - everything had gone in such a blur she had no idea where they stood now. 

For a moment her entire body tensed, the red wolf's fur bristling indignantly. She looked to the small meger hoard of herbs she had managed to bring with them, even when she had used some of her companions to bring them along. She still hadn't had the ability or time to scope the pack out itself, not in the state that she had been in, her body quivering again for a moment. It was more irritating right then than painful but Hemlock had also endured a decent amount of pain in her time. The cougar's lashings had painted her brutally and it had given a lasting impression of what pain could be.

She briefly snuck outside of her den, pacing in the open once she had felt too boxed in by the cave itself. It wasn't unheard of for wolves to either choose to whelp alone or together in Awenasa, occasionally finding siblings or cousins inexplicably whelping in the same den. Even in her wildest dreams she had never expected to share a space with Lotte in such an intimate time but she also hadn't thought of using Lotte's whelping den as her own. There was never such a chance now, and there never would be again. The thought was just as painful, a cry tearing unwillingly from her lips as she felt another contraction this time accompanied by the slick sensation of fluid running down her hind legs. She turned to press herself back into the den, back into it's deeper depths as instinct took over. 

 

Hemlock was still pacing even as she felt more fluid shifting and flowing from her. It wasn't a gush but it wasn't just a trickle, and she couldn't stand the sensation and turned to irritably try and groom herself while she still could. It wasn't as if she could reach easily and she prowled the densite anxiously. A shift of the wind brought a fresh wave of sea-salt to her nose and she sneezed, the sensation rippling awkwardly through her body and cut sharply in a growl from her throat. She turned to her herbs, nosing through and finding the borage and chewing a portion of the stock. No doubt they would be born within the next few hours, and she was set on helping her children as much as she could through any means necessary. She wasn't afraid of the pain, it was....it was so much more than that. 

This momentous task came down to her and no matter the soothing words she had offered her wife so long ago nothing came to her. The sounds outside made her pause and the medic lifted her head from her meager cache to see Arturo's familiar form. He thankfully didn't even stick his head into the densite, lest Hemlock take it from him. Instead he served as a sentry, noisily chewing and working at a bone while she did all the hard work. She could almost hear Lotte chastising him - that he knew nothing of the work of women, that he was lucky to be able to distract himself so! And it was then that Hemlock clamped her mouth shut and swallowed down the thick cry, equal parts emotion and pain. She wished Lotte was there, with her, maybe if she had only whelped earlier Lotte might have been with her and not out on another venture and whatever misfortune had fallen her could have been escaped. 

It was then that Hemlock could no longer stand to stand, shifting to the ground on her side. She was panting quietly, the pains becoming more intense and more frequent. It was a subconscious thing that she spread her legs to try and ease the pressure between them, if she was not torn asunder she would have been impressed and shocked. Lotte managed, you will do her proud. It became a mantra, and Hemlock could almost see her dark wife blotting out the brightness of the sky beyond - to keep her safe and keep her solitary and unbothered. Somehow she expected that Arturo would keep anyone away, but, still, her mind was trying it's damndest to keep her together too and it was her dark beloved it offered. 

The pain was near constant and on another more intense wave Hemlock felt the need to try and push - the thought of expelling her children out into the cruel world almost enough to make her wish it not done. Nature would not allow her to go back now, that wasn't how things worked. What had been begun had a natural progression and she was seeing the fruits of her labor. She grit her teeth, a horrible gnashing to her jaws as she fought and struggled. Soon she felt the most pressure, expelling a sac she turned instantly to free the puppy, met with a mostly dark figure she began grooming instantly. She let out a relieved cry as the child struggled against her ministrations. If Hemlock had questioned how she felt, or might have felt, in that moment there was no question: all she could imagine was love. She brought the child to her breast, watching her son as if he were the first child ever born, a tiny miracle. @Droman might never know her personally, but, Hemlock could only think of Mallaidh and the way the girl had come to the world. 

Now that she was more accustomed and the first rush of oxytocin had tempered some of the aggressive waves of pain things seemed...easier. It was different. She still watched Droman as he moved and breathed - everything was so new. Another surge of pressure and pain and Hemlock bore down again, this time, when the next child was born it was sandy and still, Hemlock swallowing back another whimper this time of her own grief. The child was still as could be, no matter how much she nosed and pressed at it - hoping that like Eirlys, the child might be willed back to them. 

 

Hemlock couldn't feel relieved, even though she did feel a bit...deflated with the two puppies that she had delivered onto the cool of the den's floor now nestled at her side. She didn't feel like she was done, she didn't know exactly how to tell either. Lotte had just....relaxed but then by that point she'd had so many at her side it was hard to tell if she'd been distracted or not. Hemlock looked down at the little boy as he squirmed and protested, chuckling quietly. The Lottruro's had been so vocal, even then, but she couldn't bring herself to be distressed by the little puppy and his silence. She could still see his limbs move, feel the very life as he moved and his heavy head bobbed before he latched onto her. "There you are," She whispered softly, and that sensation was so new and different to feel him draw from her. Her body, nourishing his body, and it was all fresh and new considering that before she couldn't exactly feel his body respond to her own. "Sweet boy," He wouldn't hear her praise or the quiet accolades as she admired the depths of color in his coat, seeing only small hints of herself so far in the darkened fur across his body. Even though it was impossible, it wasn't too far fetched to think the dark ink of his pelt was gifted from Lotte, that the soft creams and rich mocha along his body was Arturo - that even those brief kisses of red were hers and he was theirs. 

The tawny child next to him was far more basic in appearance, still had the ghosted markings almost like Arturo and Ceallach's - but his coat had a richer variety of colors and she instantly thought of her brother Azazel. It was almost the same palette, and as Hemlock investigated more it was revealed another boy had been born though he drew no breath. He'd known no pain, that way, too, and Hemlock had to be comforted by that. Another wave of contractions broke her from her reverie and she grit her teeth, even knowing that her son would not hear anything she didn't want to cry out or distress him in any way. Instead she bore down through the pain in relative silence and let her claws cut the earth to offer her a reprieve. Waves that overcame her lapped one another, a constant sensation and she wondered if the dark boy at her side could even feel it. Hemlock swallowed back a cry again, shuddering as she followed the next wave of pain and when it crested at it's highest she pushed again. 

This time, when she had expelled the sac she could see the puppy struggling before she'd even been freed. Hemlock gave a choked laugh at that as she freed the small puppy, cleaning vigorously before she'd discovered she had a daughter. She nuzzled her towards her side once the puppy was cleaned enough, placing @Reed next to her brother. Maybe she was done. The contractions had eased considerably but then she also felt like she was so exhausted she wouldn't have known right then. She felt differently, but watching the pair of them, all she could think was how in love she was. That moment was far from perfect - still stricken by grief and exhausted from trekking across the very wilds themselves - she felt the first positive emotions since losing Lotte a week ago. 

 

Hemlock might have wept had her body had it in her; instead she was awestruck, a brief laugh leaving her lips and sounding unfamiliar to her. This little fire, this little girl, she was bathed in the colors of her people and she was through and through a Kali. "You are bright," She murmured lovingly. Hemlock pressed her tongue along the girl's back to clean her as she went, moving gently to explore over both the children. The medic in her could find no faults in her children but then what mother ever did? As both nursed - the girl more greedy than the boy - Hemlock basked for a moment in this near peace. Still she had to decide what to do with her still-son, the quiet form as cold as the nights to come. 

Eventually she would move to bury him but for now he was nestled against her chest, shifted away to take no pressure from the babies who nursed heartily. Occasionally her gentle tongue ran across them but she was quiet and she did not speak. Not to adorn them with names, though she had ideas, and not to speak more to them. The pair complemented one another in appearance and she wondered how they would be as they aged. Still - she would try to place no expectations on them now, not when they were so precious, so young, so new. She smiled gently, one ear turned to the den's entrance to keep a careful vigilance and the other trained on her children. 

Her body had relaxed - presumably to the ends of her labor. She did not relax further, though, keeping herself on watch in case someone did come along the den. She still expected Arturo to keep out the strangers but the children might visit - she did not expect anything though. 

 

After assuring herself that her children had no pressing medical issues and only being vaguely aware of the presence of anyone outside her whelping den, Hemlock finally curled around the two living children to nestle them close. Soon the temperatures would shift, and with them would come winter - winter in a new territory and an unfamiliar land. Arturo had stayed on the coast before but Hemlock had always avoided it. Now, it would be their home too. She gave a soft sigh as she checked both her son and daughter, eventually drifting off content with the knowledge that they were safe and sound.