Fox's Glade Dream on, but don’t imagine they’ll all come true

The scent was faint, but it put Ameline on edge as she and @Ancelin went for a walk in the rosy light of sunrise. Her stomach swayed with each slow step. Her back ached. She had to breathe with her mouth open most times just to keep herself from clenching her jaw. The babies would come soon- but the tension in all of her tired muscles returned when she inhaled a draft of bear smell. 

Clothe by, She whispered, ears flicked back. Mutht be hibernating now though, right? She asked him.

poor ameline. swollen up with kids again, she had to adjust. ancelin had hunted more, providing himself as warmth, and now he walked close at her side.
he left off snuffling a wet kiss into his mate's ear as she spoke, becoming pointed once more with focus. "hopefully. probably." so he hoped.
ancelin began to track, glancing sidelong toward ameline for her reaction.

She growled softly, unable to determine for herself that scenting bears so soon before she gave birth would be a good omen or a bad one. She drew her gaze down, to skirt the base of trees and the soft rise of knolls as she too began to track, searching for a line of darkness that might hint at a den’s mouth.

In spite of herself, and the lives growing within her, she felt compelled to follow the scent, to find her way closer to the mighty creatures; whether it was morbid curiosity or something much more significant, she could not tell.

The children began to write, and she felt a chill rise through her in an icy flash that stood her fur on end. She breathed in the bear scent, and the whites of her eyes glinted as she searched.

I want it, Came her voice, guttural, as though she choked on blood. Her teeth chattered, as she felt a craving more intense than any she had felt before. In a hoarse whisper, she continued.

I want It’th thkull.

whoa.
ancelin drew up then, goggling at her demand, but felt it heat along his blood. why not? the pair of them were warriors with lances to draw up. he was her knight, she the queen.
also her reaction scared him, a lot; she'd never wanted to hunt bears before. what was this now? yet some shouting instinct told the man not to question her, simply to go and get whatever it was she wanted to eat before she turned on him. he didn't really think she would — well. he hadn't, not till that flash in her eye.
vaguely he wondered if such ferocity was due to her current state. but ancelin wasn't about to argue. "then let's get it."
he nudged the fur of her cheek gently, motioning for her to lead on. he would trail just behind.

She didn’t look to see the expression on his face, else she might have noticed his hesitance. With a gruff growl she surged forward, head low and tail fanning the air behind her. 

A bear in the summer, she wouldn’t dare touch; but a bear lost beneath a blanket of sleep? An easy target. She did not consider that it might be a coward’s victory, nor did she consider that it might be result with a fool’s defeat- she pictured in her mind’s eye what the skull would look like, and deep within the black pit of its gaping eye hole, she felt something calling to her. 

She stiffened when she saw a drift of snow- or what looked like one- with a slender line of darkness at its base. Carefully, she drew closer, cursing the crunching of snow beneath her feet. She perked her ears and listened, and when the birds fell silent, she could both hear and smell the steady, slow waves of bear’s breath. 

She looked to Ancelin. The bear slept; now, they needed the courage to slay it.

he himself was unsure at the luck or curse of killing a bear in its den. hadn't his grandfather worshipped the beasts? would it bring bad luck?
he hadn't quite realized his own internal superstitions until this moment. but ancelin was responsive to the wants of his mate, and this moment was not different.
a bear slumbering.
instinct warred with rationale, with logic; in one motion it became both, something the rex could justify.
all his senses burned, and he pushed forward, holding aside hanging foliage which fell over the mouth of the bruin's den.

The Rex was the first to move, and the Regina followed. From the den came the unmistakeable scent of bear musk, the stale breath of a slumbering giant that spilled out as Ancelin shouldered aside the draping boughs that protected the hibernating creature from the cold-

But not from Bearclaw.

She squinted at the scent, peeling her lips back and realized that they were suddenly dry. She raked her tongue across her teeth as she slid forward, eyes glinting as she peered into the darkness, bristling with anticipation. 

From within- the rasp of breath. In the darkness, black velvet that absorbed the light that touched it. As her eyes adjusted, she noted the arch of shoulderblades, the shuddering of ribs that rose and fall in an unstable pattern. 

Her eyes widened. 

Ancelin, she’th-

inside the den, a mother bear slept. hers was a deep slumber, but as ancelin peered closer, he became rapidly suspicious that her sleep was to be eternal. breath stuttered in the bear's throat; it seemed as if she were gasping rather than snoring.
concern furrowed his brow. was it better to kill her then? he had felt unsure until this moment; now he saw no reason to let her die slowly.
tiny movements deeper in the dark had his nose twitching, and he wasn't sure he was truly seeing what he saw. "ameline," the rex grunted. "i don't think she's alone."

On her deathbed, slaughter would have been a kindness. To wilt like a plucked flower until all colour faded was a death of unfathomable pain and discomfort. This would be no heroic slaughter- and it ruined Ameline’s vision. But in the darkness, another awoke and cried out shortly after her mate spoke.

A bawling wail lifted in weak arcs as light filtered between the two wolves that had come to slay the bruin. Ameline moved forward, and saw the cub’s tawny muzzle lift, crusted with the last bit of dried milk, to cry out again. 

She remembered the way her daughters had cried when they had been born- she heard their voices now in the den. And with the last breath of the mother bear hot against her cheek, she moved forward to snatch the cub from her side.

ancelin shared no such parental instinct. he could only watch in surprise and a bit of horror as ameline reached inside the den, extracting the bearcub. in the colder air, it squirmed, making the same weak cries. 
leaving that one to his mate, ancelin steeled himself and pressed shoulders inside the shelter. no more. no stirring of breath, no other little shiftings in the dark. he did not search for long; he did not want to know if others had succumbed.
indigo eyes glanced thoughtfully at the bear-child. "what do you want to do?"
did he need to ask? no. movement again, ancelin searching for something large and heavy to force across the entrance. it belonged forever as a tomb.

The cub protested with a screechy wail at first, but was silenced as she picked it up by the scruff and brought it out into the light. It was heavier than a newborn wolf pup, and rather than going limp in her grasp it went stiff, sticking its little arms out, reaching with spread claws for a mother it would never see again. 

She paused to consider for a moment. The bear cub would not likely survive; but she could give it a chance. She wanted to; her body ached now, in preparation for the delivery of her own children- but this bear cub now seemed to her all the same as those who would come in the following days. 

Ourth. She answered, through a mouthful of velvety bearfluff. 

A pang of pain began in her belly, and she felt tension ripple through her abdominal muscles. She set the cub down, so she could breathe through it, pulling the cub toward her swollen belly. It searched through her thinned, beige fur to find a teat, and began to suckle. She frowned and grimaced; she was not made to nurse a bearcub. 

We'll try.

theirs.
ancelin studied the little thing. it wasn't so much different from a fold-ear wolfcub, at least not at this age. the sound and the claws were different. he watched in rapt fascination as ameline, answering an ancient call he simply would never understand.
it seemed to comprehend more than he did, latching as any baby would in the presence of potential food. "let's get them back to the den, and you," he grunted, not liking the expression on her face. and she was so round. any day now; he wanted to exercise a little protectiveness.
should they announce? or just let the small bear tumble out of the den when the pups began to escape? another grin for the idea.