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+--- Thread: Redtail Rise we ca[m]e up with a game to play of being born again (/showthread.php?tid=52336)
we ca[m]e up with a game to play of being born again - New Snow - August 25, 2022
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Since seeing Dark Man, the pain had not returned as it had that day... but there were some small spells of it. Sunday Morning had the mind, now, to go to the whelping den. It felt early somehow, but perhaps that was what her body intended to encourage. For the following twenty four hours, perhaps more, Sunday lingered there. And the pain returned. The late hours of the twenty-fourth brought on great tragedy. When the pain ended, this time there was blood. And Sunday Morning whimpered quietly to see the two small things she had gently removed the sac from, when it all felt finished, breathless.
Her tongue pressed against their sides in an effort to resuscitate. Sunday had not been aware that these two were born dead. She wrapped herself around the two beings and slept a restless sleep that was far from restorative. Too exhausted to call for Mountain Boulder, or anyone, she had determined to do so when she woke. Her heart ached, but for now she permitted herself to mourn this loss, and to be with them, alone.
But the following day came, and with it, a different sort of pain. This came in waves, and Sunday Morning rose to pace and pant. Sunday Morning growled and snapped at her sides, having thought it all over, and wondering what she must endure this bit of it for. Sunday Morning felt concern, and it was now she loosed a call for Mountain Boulder, for Red Woman. Should she be taken next, she would have them know.
Instinct bid her not let them in, not yet. They would hear of her trial, her confused and pained whimpers. Her labored breathing. Her pacing.
But by the dawn, she had her answer to that why she had asked, hours before.
And Sunday was happy once again. For before her, cleaned and breathing, was the little girl of hers and Mountain Boulder. Thursdays Dawn was born a small thing, but Sunday Morning knew her strength. It was her alive at her teats, now. Sunday Morning looked to the two that had not made it. Instinct bid her to eat them, their hormones not recognizable to her anymore.
For now, Sunday Morning was content to groom @Thursdays Dawn, but before long she took care of the first two when hunger took over.
As of yet, she still had not let any into the den. Hours had gone by. But something still forbid her from it, and as pain returned, and Sunday labored for hours more, there next came a great boy. Bigger than his sister, @Thursday Evening was already a hefty thing. Sunday Morning grinned at the two she had produced, and doted on them both with a gentle tongue.
Her crooning note came in the shape of the sound she had for Mountain Boulder. He could look, now. Though should he come too close, she would warn them away with her teeth; they were too small, too fragile, for company beyond herself. But he could look, at least. See what gifts they now shared.
Thursdays Dawn, and Thursday Evening; young, and fresh, and new... but already her greatest accomplishment.
RE: we ca[m]e up with a game to play of being born again - Bobcat - August 25, 2022
thursday evening was not sure what was happening. there was great trembling and then room to stretch out and then stillness. contentment. the continued existence of floating in the oilslick world he has come to know in the way that babies know things: for brief, fleeting moments.
it continues like this for what feels like a lifetime.
the peace does not last long.
more tremors follow and now, aimed at him, they become violent. and slowly, more awareness dawns on thursday evening. the rush of chill as his sac is broken, the soothe of his mother's warm tongue upon his back. weak nose seeking her teat to suckle her sweet mother's milk like a missle. contently, he settles beside his sister, letting his mother's warm wash over him as he fills his belly before dozing off, milk dribbling from his little chin.
RE: we ca[m]e up with a game to play of being born again - Thursdays Dawn - August 25, 2022
She came into the world wailing, the warm, sticky wetness clinging to her pale fur. Her cries grew louder as her mother tended to her, and she wriggled closer, blindly. She bumped into her brother, searching for her mother's milk, and when she finds it, she settles. Ravenously she would nurse, and when she was done she would curl up beside her brother, making soft whines and whimpers as she fell asleep.
RE: we ca[m]e up with a game to play of being born again - Mountain Boulder - August 27, 2022
SO SORRY AHHH
augur's hunting of large game had faded since their hunt. the grey man tucked himself close to new snow's chosen den and did not depart often.
when he was not sleeping alongside the she-wolf, augur guarded the outside, describing small patrols around the area. leadership admitted. blacktail free to come and go. everyone else would be haunted by a stern look from his yellow eyes, and a snort that would only relent should new snow communicate otherwise.
when she had ensconced herself in the whelping den, augur had watched.
he had waited.
the silence stretched, so he had gone to hunt, unsucessfully. hours passed and he had gone again.
this time when the clawan returned, it was to hear new snow's cry. the duck was dropped to the earth, forgotten. he sped to the denmouth only to be barred from entry. augur was not a wolf easily distressed but this did provoke a sodden whine from him. he listened all the same, aware that breaching the door to the den of a labouring mother was to invite calamity upon oneself.
his ears strained for every sound. he bathed his jaws and at last settled to heavy haunches, gazing at the entrance where she had gone.
the hunter paced again, unknowing that inside the den, new snow too walked the earth as mothers eternal had before her.
darkness came. he lay to wait, unable to sleep. and at dawn his attentive ears were treated to the sound of an infant's wailing.
augur sat up, an excited breath shuddering from his nostrils. he watched the entryway carefully, but new snow did not appear. his attempts to creep closer were met with resistance, and so the great man slunk balefully away once more.
more hours. he dozed, ears flicking at the summer insects which crawled over and around his muzzle.
when he awoke, there was nothing. and still he stayed, unwilling to leave for another hunt. the duck had been cached. his belly clawed with hunger but he remained watchful. stoic.
at last, at last, the cries of another child. his tail beat upon the earth as new snow called softly to him. augur inched closer upon his belly, reverent, submissive, ears folded as he stuck tongue out to lick at her flank and peered over it at their children: a robust boy and a much smaller girl.
augur was delighted.
when he was not sleeping alongside the she-wolf, augur guarded the outside, describing small patrols around the area. leadership admitted. blacktail free to come and go. everyone else would be haunted by a stern look from his yellow eyes, and a snort that would only relent should new snow communicate otherwise.
when she had ensconced herself in the whelping den, augur had watched.
he had waited.
the silence stretched, so he had gone to hunt, unsucessfully. hours passed and he had gone again.
this time when the clawan returned, it was to hear new snow's cry. the duck was dropped to the earth, forgotten. he sped to the denmouth only to be barred from entry. augur was not a wolf easily distressed but this did provoke a sodden whine from him. he listened all the same, aware that breaching the door to the den of a labouring mother was to invite calamity upon oneself.
his ears strained for every sound. he bathed his jaws and at last settled to heavy haunches, gazing at the entrance where she had gone.
the hunter paced again, unknowing that inside the den, new snow too walked the earth as mothers eternal had before her.
darkness came. he lay to wait, unable to sleep. and at dawn his attentive ears were treated to the sound of an infant's wailing.
augur sat up, an excited breath shuddering from his nostrils. he watched the entryway carefully, but new snow did not appear. his attempts to creep closer were met with resistance, and so the great man slunk balefully away once more.
more hours. he dozed, ears flicking at the summer insects which crawled over and around his muzzle.
when he awoke, there was nothing. and still he stayed, unwilling to leave for another hunt. the duck had been cached. his belly clawed with hunger but he remained watchful. stoic.
at last, at last, the cries of another child. his tail beat upon the earth as new snow called softly to him. augur inched closer upon his belly, reverent, submissive, ears folded as he stuck tongue out to lick at her flank and peered over it at their children: a robust boy and a much smaller girl.
augur was delighted.