Hemlock was exhausted - whoever would have imagined just nursing and laying there could be so draining but it was literally and figuratively. Still, her eyes roamed over Droman and Reed's forms eagerly in a near constant manner - if there had been any changes she would have known. She could have responded quickly. She could do what was needed to be. She still ate borage relatively to keep her milk up although she hadn't noticed any lacking and the children kept nice full bellies. She had caught Ceallach's scent nearby with offerings for her to eat but most of the time it was Artruo's that stayed predominant. She assumed he left, because he had not stepped inside the den and had she she would have snarled and demanded him out. She didn't want to share them right at that moment. 

After a couple days, however, the moon was shining big and bright and Hemlock briefly exited the den to relieve herself and to stretch beneath the moon's rays. She looked back to the two puppies nestled next to one another, Reed and Droman curled into one another in a way that could only bring a smile from her. She felt smaller, moving now only in a ginger fashion given the work she had just endured. The woman paused as a sound caught her attention, posture still dominant though she was lower on the totem pole so to say than any of the wolves there save the puppies. She peered into the darkness and wondered which would intercept first, her or @Witchdoctor. She had been present when he had rushed in anxiously to be present for the birth of his and Lotte's children but he had not done the same with hers - and she had been so defensive it made sense. All she could do was give a soft sigh, nodding almost to herself as she broke the silence that had become too normal between them. "Do you wish to see them?" She asked quietly, standing at the mouth of the den. 

 


Hemlock might have made him wait longer, protective as she was of the tiny things that she had brought into the world. If there was anyone she shouldn't have had to defend them from, it should have been Arturo, but she had been suspicious of her husband since they had left Lotte's grave. In the days since he had seemed different - this sharp and abrasive thing she was utterly unfamiliar with. Of course, she had not been present to see him in his grief, selfishly she had fled for vengeance so that she was not swallowed up and failed the pack. She still had, of course, but it had been in another way entirely. 

She looked him over in the moonlight, taken as she ever was by his appearance. Still full of roguish charm and the fire in his sun-kissed eyes, still strong enough to stand tall despite all that had come to pass in the mere week since their hearts had been broken. In that shared anguish Hemlock could only cling to whatever strength was left between them but at some points it still didn't feel like enough. She swallowed back the rush of words, as ineloquent as she tended to be, wordy, yes, but those weren't woven with the same care as Lotte's stories nor spoken with the skill of Arturo's tongue. She wanted to curl against him and yet she could not move, rooted for a time in the sands before she looked back to their children. She gives a brief nod, drawing back into the den and allowing him to follow her. 

She returns to her place coiled around them, wrapping her body to blot out any chill the night might have brought with her. The were so small, after all, and could not keep themselves warm but the kills that had been left for her she had stripped clean of fur to line the area that they slept upon. She would protect them as best as she could - even from those that she held dear. Hemlock ran her tongue across both children before she looked up to Arturo again. "You have a young son and daughter." His newest litter, despite the many he had sired before, and the unwitting last to truly bear Arturo's touch. It would be another even if Hemlock did not know - who looked upon them now with different eyes and a different being. 

Hemlock watched him closely and tried to take in his reaction. She did not know if in his grief he might break the darkness to grace them with a smile, or, if that time had come to pass, too. The darkness that had touched them had not receded in the light of the children's birth and they would bear too much of that pressure even if they did not know it. 

 

Hemlock searches his gaze for something - anything - of the man that she knew. The man she loved. He wears the same skin but he looks different, acts different, responds in ways she did not expect. Perhaps it is the second place wife feeling; knowing that she saw the fierce love he had given Lotte and their children and knowing that she will forever live in Lotte's shadow. It is a place that she had placed herself. It is what she feels is 'right' - but this is not what she had expected of their children. Not when Arturo had wanted them too, had wanted to be present for them and with them. He comments on their looks and she knows it too, her viridian gaze shifting down to tenderly bask in their son and daughter as he did. "They are," She comments quietly, kissing the skull of one child and then the other. The question of their name brings about a slight hum of contemplation, this is something they'd only spoken of briefly. It almost seemed oddly superstitious to her now but she was worried all the same; it still astounds her that their children were here and nestled against them. 

"Droman and Reed." She said with pride, touching her dark son to anoint him his name and her bright daughter only a moment later. "Droman is a Gaelic name for Elder woods; Reed, well. It goes without saying." Arturo may not be as versed as she (though not many were if she was honest) in the subject of plant names but both her children would carry these names proudly. "I was thinking of having Ceallach or Eirlys give them names Lotte might have picked." This is barely above a whisper, speaking anything of their lost wife hurts her deeply. She was still worn out, a little shiver running along her spine as she looked up to him. "Would...would you stay close tonight?" She misses him - she misses her husband, his warmth, even the most simple touches from him. But she cannot command him here - and she cannot promise she will want him as close tomorrow either. She knows she has been distant and that their whirlwind lives have taken them far in the past week - how could it barely be a week? 

If only it was possible to go back to how things were not so long ago. 

While she has never been one to find good ways to offer her feelings - not in words at least, her husband and wife had the silver tongues and she the clumsy cadence of a child trying to recite Shakespeare - Hemlock is still almost expectant that Arturo will stay silent in his emotions. She doesn't say anything to his quiet hum of agreeance (certainly not indifference to the grieving widow or widower, no doubt) but she lets out a near choked sound of relief at having him close. It's been so hard she can't imagine the whirlwind of what has been. It's not even two weeks and they had lost Lotte and been given their children, only to never have their Äiti gaze upon them with living eyes. "I know I have been difficult." And in this shame Hemlock did as she often did, her gaze falling from his eyes to their children where she didn't have to face his disappointment. "It is....it is like losing Palisander all over again. It is...it is more even, for all we had endured together." Hemlock had seen so many of the most poignant moments of their lives through - seeing the children born, watching them rule their pack, joining them at it's helm - watching as Lotte's form stilled and cooled and then ensuring she rested eternally. 

"I will not change my name this time. I will not lose the Hemlock you know in someone else. I left Isley in Palisander's grave but....but I cannot do that to you. Not again." Hemlock looked back up to him - ensuring that he knew she was sincere. That she was honest. She might have wanted this family more than anything but she could not offer them right then - she felt right then that she had nothing else to give. 

His silence is near damning and Hemlock wrapped herself around the children, nursing them as they needed more sustenance. After a period she dozed off herself as well, although her sleep was restless and uneven despite having Arturo close for the first time in so long.