The borders had called him away from the den shortly before her contractions began, lured by the need to protect; he did not doubt the security of his home, though he did wish to be the one to ensure it remained as dutifully guarded as ever. He did not know when his children would be born—from either of the women—he knew only that his wife was exceptionally large, and the sight of her alone made him feel anxious. What if something happened? What if something went wrong? He wondered, too, if those she carried might face the same storm as he had so long ago; he had but an inkling of a memory left regarding that night, of the cold and the excitement, of the world’s anger. Fending off what nerves he could, Alexander focused on the border, on his patrol, so that he might better protect those within the valley’s walls—but he couldn’t shake a nagging feeling from the back of his mind, something urging him to the place that had started it all.

The patrol lasted longer than originally planned, as the pallid king had made his way along the exterior; the rough edges of the walls had his body rubbed against them, clumps of previously loose fur left behind, signifying the claim held over the land. In the process of doing so, he’d managed to locate and kill a marten, which hung limply from his jaws as he made his return to the whelping den—but something was amiss, the cry that emitted from the darkness slackening his jaw and driving him towards the opening, meal left behind and forgotten.

Alexander nearly dove into the den, senses on high alert and teeth ready to tear into the flesh of whatever was causing her grief. Yet, as he peered in, he found his wife to be alone and his body relaxed, only to tense back up moments later as a whine fled from his throat: what’s wrong? What’s happening? He was oblivious to that which was to come, crouched down at the mouth of the den and frozen there, not knowing what he should do because he could not tell what was going on.

Perhaps, well within the depths of his mind, he understood what was happening, but it was not until the first child was visible that everything clicked—their children were on their way out. He felt the pace of his heart pick up, panic taking hold as he tried to figure out what he was supposed to do. Should he call for someone? Was he supposed to call for someone? He pulled his head back from the den’s entrance, considering his next move, then suddenly just stopped. His head returned to its previous place, gaze slicing through the darkness and focusing on the child that was pushed away—weren’t they supposed to be pulled closer? A whine threatened to spill out past his lips until he noticed that the form was motionless, soundless, and then he felt his blood run cold; that someone he’d never known could incite such a reaction, he’d never understand the reason behind it.

Alexander, resisting the urge to move towards the lifeless lump, forced himself away from it all. He stared into the darkness no longer, taking instead to pacing back and forth just outside the whelping den before finally calling for @Forrest. He was uncertain of the older woman but, at the same time, if Blondine felt her to be an adequate stand-in, then he had to give her a chance; with how often the healer demonstrated her skills, it’d be an insult to doubt her opinion now.