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. 

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.

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."

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.