Bearclaw Valley in june 323 BCE

i figured maybe we could do a couple of posts and then have the babies be born tomorrow sometime: i'll tag them in the post. <3

there wasn't much towhee could do the past few days, other than pace restless 'round the circumference of the birthing den and even that has failed to help. she's surly; chasing away ghost who recognizes that something is happening and instead perches as feathered sentry nearby. she is uncomfortable and during a pacing session, the discomfort turns to a sharp cramp that knocks her breath from her.

her steps falter and her legs threaten to fold in on her.

breathe, breathe she tells herself as it washes over it. it fades but the echo remains imprinted on her mind and she remains still for a few heartbeats longer. when she is sure she won't collapse on herself, she sets off in a determined waddle to find @Tvar.

there was a bone deep feeling that the babies were coming. a little early perhaps, but that cramp had felt different than the ones she'd experienced on and off through the past week.

tvar is not far. he rarely is these days. always watching, always close; the weight of responsibility—of fatherhood—has settled heavy on his shoulders, and the closer the day comes, the more eager he has become.

so he is quick to hear the waddle of his wife. rounded, bearish ears flick forward, and he moves to meet her, hurriedly shortening the distance in a few long strides. searching her face with both concern and realization, before a fire is visibly lit under his ass.

it’s time? a blow of breath and then instinct kick in, pushing aside any hesitation. he steps in beside her, offering his strength, ready to guide her back to the den. finding her shoulder and side with his own, setting stare ahead of them. you should be in the den, tj! his words come out in a whispered rush, the worry warting of a soon-to-be father.

welcome to the world babies! <3

though tvar is right to fuss over her, it stills draw a scowl from her borne of her stubbornness and hyper-independence; that turns into a grimace of pain as another contraction seizes her. it steals her breath, makes her pant and curl in on herself, her steps ceasing. whatever words she wished to sign in ptero are lost; unimportant. he was right to her chagrin.

she leans against him as they make their way back to the birthing den, another contraction making her pause along the way — though thankfully she hadn't been able to ( nor needed to ) go far.

---

every position is uncomfortable and she scoots around a lot, restless; stilling out of exhaustion and necessity as they are born, cleaned and nestled against her breast: @Jackdaw , @Skari , @Periwinkle. All perfect and the most beautiful things she's ever seen in her life. Immediately, Towhee's smitten with them, kissing Tvar's cheek as she looks proudly at the beautiful pups they created.

She nods off as they feed only to be startled awake by another set of close-together contractions a few hours later. A last child is born to her surprise and perhaps a little bit to her horror for she'd hoped she'd been done with the birth of her daughter. But she cleans him off and nudges him to her side, letting out a small noise of content as he, too begins to feed.

PUPPY TIME LETS GO! also sorry this is so short...first time i've written a newborn lmao

jackdaw's first breaths were spent on a cry so shrill, birds roused from nearby bush and branches to take flight. the first son, a black bundle of fur and angry cries, now nestling up again his mother's breast. he kicked and huffed, and while his eyes would not open for quite some time, he sought his ma's warmth and comfort. he suckled with vigor, tiny paws kneading at his ma's teats, greedy for more. and when his siblings came shortly after to join him, he fussed and wrestled them for the best spot.

he came out fighting. throwing punches, elbowing his older brother with useless noodle legs. it was a fervor so great it challenged the gods; and then came his battle cry. a song for the ages, echoing loudly amongst the den his father had carved out for his mother.

reduced to small mewls as he is swathed in his mother's tongue, groomed from top to bottom with harsh licks that cause him to hiccup.

but once he is free from the shackles that bind him, the little warrior soars! he finds his mother, and it is greedily. sniffing at her underbelly, searching vigorously for a teat to feed from. finding the one jackdaw nursed from and attempting to steal it, before he was nudged aside by his mother's large nose and directed to an open space.

the beast is sated... for now.

Slumber was peace, and peace was all she had known. Mother warmed her, kept her fed, all without ever having to ask or beg. Like a little parasite, Periwinkle existed within the tides of her mother’s womb, gently rocked like a fish resting just below the surface where waves crested overhead.

Peace, that is, until she felt herself being squeezed, felt the movement of other bodies near her. She’d never known movement like this, and began to feel something unfamiliar and uncomfortable grow within her. For the first time in her life, Periwinkle began to feel fear. 

She too writhed when her world began to press in. The kicking and struggling of other children had lessened- but the atmosphere became only more inhospitable as she felt herself squeezed through a narrow canal- and then out into the void where pressure ceased to exist. 

For a moment, there was calm again, until her energy began to wane. She felt coldness seep in through the umbilical chord, where once nutrients had supplied her with everything she had needed. She couldn’t feel it any more, and with every moment, her body began to cry out- she needed sustenance, she needed something, she needed-

a gasp! 

Air. 

Her mother freed her from the milky veil, and she drew in one breath after another, uttering small, bearlike cries until she felt herself pulled back toward warmth and softness. She buried her face into her mother’s fur and needled and made sucking noises with her toothless mouth until she found what she was looking for. 

More warmth, more sustenance. Now, it came through her mouth, a part of herself which, until this point, had done very little. Her limbs still weak, eyes still closed and little ears still folded, she knew now only the use of her lips and tongue, the gentle kneading of her paws, and the pleasure of having a belly full of warm milk!

tzar draws in his first breath, harsh and rasping; breaking the surface of the sac that he'd been cocooned within. the last born of the newest crownore's. tzar the unexpected. while his siblings are nestled against towhee jr's side he is screaming at her as she cleans him, wiggling what feels like a valiant fight but in reality was a weak movement of his head until he is pushed between the warm bodies of his siblings.

it muffles his cries — though his mother cannot hear them — which only end when he latches onto a teat and begins to suckle.

an emotional moment. one he never thought he'd experience—at least, not so soon. a whirlwind the past few months had been, and they led to this one, defining moment: the birth of his children. of his future. tvar had been stood outside the den for most of it.

all bristling fur, racing thoughts, and paranoid guardian; flinching at the slightest of noises, baring his teeth at the scurrying of squirrels through trees. he thought ghost had been laughing at him at one point, earning him a glare from the sentinel father.

but all was well. when his wife calls him into the den, it is with nervous pawsteps—but he comes, and lays eyes upon the most beautiful sight in the world. a smile, wide and true, breaking out upon his dark face! he cannot help it. he embraces her with a strong arm, grooming lovingly the top of her head and between her ears.

look at them, he signs the best he can with a single paw, ours.