Bearclaw Valley and was buried in a tomb

i figured we were due for an updated hubby x wifey thread <3

towhee settles easily — which is something of a surprise to her — into the role of motherhood. though, admittedly, they are newborns unable to do much but eat, sleep and poop. and she knows they will not stay this way for long. in those moments that she considers how fast they will grow — look at how quickly bushtit has grown! — she worries about how her deafness ( and by proxy muteness ) would present a challenge keeping track of them.

but she knows between ghost and @Tvar and the pack that they would be safe. or, as safe as eager and curious children could ever be.

the babies appear to be asleep and she shifts slowly as to not disturb them and slips to stretch just outside the entrance of the birthing den; grateful for the stolen moment to stretch and walk around a bit.

<3<3

it is with a heart full of pride that the new father walks through the tall trees surrounding the hovel home to his growing family. this; this was what he had busied his days with. patrolling the thicket, too protective to venture far out; leaving @Cole to pick up most of his slack.

there had been a turn in the air, and then news spread fast. ameline had delivered the bearclaw babies, safe and sound; for that, tvar was glad.

his movement through the circuit he looped would branch off when he heard the disturbance of foliage. his dark head parting through brush, bright eyes coming to land upon the stretching form of his wife. they soften immediately, he chuffs to her warmly; coming close, bumping his cheek against hers.

goodmorning, mama. he teases gently. nipping lovingly at her ear with gentle teeth. how are the cubs?

towhee greets her husband with warm smile and a kiss as he nips at her ear. her gaze goes to his paws, reading the ptero he signs to her. -good morning husband,- she signs in ptero, enjoying using the word ever since it has become so. -good, i think. sleeping right now. giving me a brief moment to get some fresh air and stretch my legs.- they need a lot of attention, and these moments are rare.

-i feel very out of the loop with the going-on's... what is new?- though it was not her desire to be dismissive of the world outside of her preparations to giving birth she had walled them off all the same to keep her focus locked in. now that the babes were earth-side, she craves the news of the world outside the birthing den, eager for the time when she can re-join the world.

he hums quietly, responsive to her affections. crooning deeply to her, sure that his throat was flush to her so that she could feel the vibrations from the noises he made. kneading his nose against the fur of her head, between her ears, where he breathes her in. her scent; a mixture of her, milk, and their children. an intoxicating scent.
he is happy to fill her in, settling onto his haunches, tucking her close at his side as they sit out front the whelping den. i have just heard from cole that ameline has given birth. he signs quickly, vigorously, a pride flowing through him. will you be alright if i go to pay them a visit? he asks merely out of courtesy—he knows she will be just fine. still, he worries.
evident by the way his brows pull together, looking insistently upon her. after her answer, he presses a kiss to her chin, and grows still for a moment. drawing away, standing to pace a moment, as if something weighs upon his mind. not realizing his thoughts begin to show through his demeanor.

towhee feels his croon through the vibrations that he ensures she feels, relishing in it, her heartbeat ticking up a bit in a visceral response. her tail beats against the earth at the news that ameline has also given birth; assuming that mama bearclaw and babies are well ... for surely someone would've come to fill her in if that wasn't the case.

-of course. give her my love and tell her i will visit as soon as i am able.- towhee replies in ptero with a warm smile, enjoying the soft spring warmth of the sunshine, the fresh air. her gaze wanders for a moment, but never strays for too long before it instinctively seeks tvar once more.

moments after, he pulls away and paces; something clearly weighing on his mind. towhee watches with a slight frown, her mind racing at a thousand miles per hour. -what is wrong, tvar?- towhee signs in ptero before she draws closer in a ghosting step; worry furrowing his brow and tugging her ears to rest at half mast atop her skull.

tvar's pacing slows to a stop, his jaw working tightly around an invisible knot. her worry cuts deeper than he expected, making his stomach churn uncomfortably. he hates this feeling—the guilt, the dread—but she deserves honesty.
he draws a breath and forces himself to meet her gaze. his ears flick backward, uncertainty visible in the subtle strain around his eyes.
when i left... i saw my brother, faust. his signs are hesitant, cautious, as if each word might break beneath their weight. he leads a pack now—darukaal, far north. norsemen. he said that it is home. our home. and ours now included towhee, and their children.
a pause stretches thin and brittle, before he continues quickly, voice low, fearing misunderstanding.
i told him—not now. but someday. when our pups are older. when they can travel.
his gaze flickers, quiet fear woven into the steel.
it is my wish for my children to know their people. their heritage. would you go?

her husband signs of his brother, and a pack in the wilds called darukaal and that it was their home, made of norsemen. her husband's culture. she herself had been raised relatively secular, holding no religion nor any sort of true culture. some traditions, yes ... but nothing that held her back from converting.

when he is finished, her gaze moves to his face; studying it, noting the hesitance that she finds there. maybe fear, even. which is a perplexing thing to her; drawing a soft furrow of her brow.

was he afraid she would object...? she wonders.

-i will go where ever you go, tvar,- she signs, drawing nearer to press her nose to his cheek in a comforting gesture; placing a lingering kiss there. -we are crownore's. our children by blood and me, by marriage. they are our family, our culture too.-

;;o;;

tvar stills, her touch melting the tension wound tight in his chest. for a breath, two, he does not respond. only leans into her, grounding himself in her warmth.
then he exhales—a low, steadying sound. not relief, not quite. but something close. something anchoring.
his eyes meet hers again, softer now, glassy with a feeling he doesn’t often name. gratitude. loyalty returned.
thank you, he signs simply.
he presses a kiss to her brow. then we will go. when the time is right.

towhee'd lost track of those of her family that remained in the wilds, though in all fairness the redhawks were a massive family: keeping track of all of them were impossible. and either way, it didn't seem like her mother had any plans of settling down anywhere ... and bushtit appeared content to keep her company.

settling down with her husband's family seems like a good thing to her.

-they will be old enough before you know it.- towhee signs, a soft if not slightly bittersweet smile tugging at the edges of her lips. they were still newborns but she swore she saw them grow bigger everyday before her eyes. before she knew it, they would be walking and talking and developing their own little personalities.

-part of me is excited to see who they become and yet another wishes they would stay tiny forever.- she admits in ptero, ears fluttering to rest half-mast atop her skull as she contemplates it.