Sleeping Dragon there should be stars for great wars like ours

This is forward dated several days in the future because my timeline is wonky as hell. Maybe a week or so after their birth? For @Hvitserk and/or @Thyri.

Even with the confession of her feelings to Wildfire, Thuringwethil still stuck to sleeping nearby Gyda's den, at least until Gavriel returns. At which point, she'd then over the duty to him and she could get a little more rest at night. Not that she complains, by any means, because seeing them grow each day has been a pleasant surprise. In the wake of the famine, new life has come of Sleeping Dragon and the wolves of their claim have done well in their part in keeping them safe and fed and happy. Thuringwethil isn't sure she could feel anymore pride for the wolves that they lead.

This night, she's stuffed herself into the birthing den to keep Gyda company and sooth the children while she sleeps. It has taken a toll on the young mother—four children not a common thing for someone so young and inexperienced—but if anyone could pull it off it would be her queen. Proud of what she's accomplished, even if she had disagreed in the beginning, the young leader has begun to come around. They were healthy and strong, despite the weakness of the land, and would continue to prevail. Thuringwethil remains at the opening, only to protect them from the outside world, but her head rests upon her paws as she watches them through half-lidded eyes.

hi, dad. plz don't strangle me while i cry v loudly @ u

With each day, he grew. It did not yet matter how fast his rate was, for he'd not the capacity to bother with things such as that. Instead, he'd just continued to suckle away and, when necessary, fend off his sisters. Plus he had to find a way to fit sleep into his busy schedule, too. It was a lot of work for someone so small! Yet, his complaints were rarer than most others his age, his attention often tied to what he had to do in each moment. Whether it be to fill his stomach or sleep, or possibly even try to drag himself around, his actions had a tendency to distract him from voicing whatever complaints that he might have at any given time. Over the past few days, though, something had been off. He had no way of knowing what was happening, the ebbing irritation in his abdominal region usually able to be quelled by either a meal or relief. So when he was woken up by a sharp jolt of pain, he'd done both, but to no avail. His usual methods had failed him, and so he'd cried.

On any normal day, Hvitserk was perhaps the quietest of the bunch, but not on that night. No, the aches in his stomach did not make for a very happy puppy at all, resulting in him whining and crying. The boy's body had reacted on its own, feet tucking in with his back arched slightly, though this was something he had not even realized had happened. From there, he wailed; a sound so high in pitch that it'd put a banshee to shame. He did not care about those that he was surely bothering with his noise, more so because he didn't realize what he was doing than anything else. All that he wanted was for his stomach to right itself, and whimpering about it seemed like a decent solution.

The puppies were getting bigger, changing before her eyes—she thinks they’ve grown each new night she returns to check on them—and developing their own little traits. Freyja moves a lot, even if she didn’t necessarily go anywhere. Thyri and Eske are ready to be warriors. Hvitserk is quiet, subtle, and Thuringwehtil holds a curiosity on where he might go with the traits he’s showing so early. However, this night, something seems a little off as she watches, not having been ready for her own sleep.

He begins to make sounds and shift between his siblings and Thuringwethil’s brows dip between her gaze with worried curiosity. His sounds build to a full on wail when he's jerked awake and her ears drop back against her head, lowering it to the ground and nosing him out of the bunch. It’s likely to wake the other puppies, and Gyda—unless she’s completely wiped—and so she tries to weasel the little boy out from the rest and offer an encouraging lick across his face to soothe his wailing into sleep again.

In such a state, he'd not the capacity to worry over which wolves he'd wake with his wailing and which ones would sleep right through it. He knew only of the discomfort that he was experiencing, and how it made him feel as if his entire world was coming to an abrupt end. The warm liquid he'd savoured—quite literally—since birth no longer helped him, nor provided the comfort that it'd seemed to of promised him once upon a time. There was only the ache that existed, as well as his eagerness for it to stop. Yet, relief was not so quick to come. He'd been moved away from the wiggling masses of warmth, the place from which he'd often nursed, and placed into the unknown. If fear was something that he'd been able to feel at such a young age, then it most definitely would have been seeping straight out from his core. Luckily, though, such was just one of the many emotions that he couldn't comprehend, and so he'd settled for crying in response to his ailment only.

When a tongue had made its way across his face, the feeling was welcomed, but not rewarded. It was a gesture that he'd take comfort in at any other time, perhaps even fall asleep to, but not on that day. Rather than silencing him, it'd only made the boy cry even louder. Yet another thing that he favoured had failed him, and so what else was he to do but cry his little heart out?

Thuringwethil offers a few more licks across the boy but as the ever-increasing wail indicates is that she is accomplishing very little. She frowns and looks down at him, gently caressing him with her nose. She inhales a long breath; he smells nothing more than of Gyda and milk and innocence. Disease does not seem likely, lest it be something she has not seen, but she still peers wonderingly.

“What is wrong?” she softly murmurs, knowing the puppy cannot hear her, despite the wailing. He wiggles a little and shifts on the ground, as if he can’t get comfortable. She flicks her gaze up at @Gyda to see if she’s still sleeping, sure that nothing can sleep through the crying child.

Across his face a tongue had ran several times, but none earned the giver any silence. He'd cried through it the entire time, offering no relief to the ears of those around him—the ones that could hear, anyways. The more he cried, though, the worst his stomach seemed to feel. Yet he couldn't stop himself from crying, because the worst that got, the more he wailed. It was a vicious cycle, and with an ending that was unclear. To add onto it, his lungs and throat had each started to grow a bit sore, having not been used to such loud noises leaving him, and especially not for extended periods of time. Which, of course, made him cry until his voice sounded strained, as new forms of irritations filled his body.

Gyda had been sleeping though the insistent wails of Hvitserk had stirred the slumbering mother out of it on the principle of instinct. Half awake, she noted Thuringwethil's presence in the birthing den and thus did not give much thought to it, her head rising for the briefest of moments before it lowered and her eyes slipped back closed. She assumed he simply cried for the Commander's attention, though after a while and no doubt plenty of attention from Heda his wails did not cease. It was only when they began to pick up in their intensity did Gyda awake in full, her maternal instincts poking her, telling her that something was wrong. Her own intuition mirrored Thuringwethil's question as Gyda shifted closer to the commander, careful not to disturb her daughters too much. “Hvitserk,” She spoke to the deaf babe, panic swelling in her chest, beneath her breast, though she attempted to get a handle on it. Gyda sought the Commander's gaze with unbidden concern. all the same. “Something is wrong,” He couldn't be hungry, and usually a few swipes of a comforting tongue was enough to lull the baby Dragons to sleep, yet he was insistent and his cries were pained. “His cries are different,” Gyda told Thuringwethil, having learned over the week or so that there were different cries for different things. There was a hunger wail, a cranky wail, a wail just for fun but this...this was not one she'd heard yet. “Can you call for a medic?” Gyda asked her, silently praying that it was something they could help him with. She dared not think that it was something more serious.

Quick replies, please! :) Not everyone tagged has to join but I obviously would like one of you. I'll give it a couple of days before replying again.

It does not take Gyda long to eventually come to, before she even has to prod her awake, and Thuringwethil easily shrinks back to allow the mother room. Her features are scrunched up as she watches in concern as she makes the distinction that something is wrong. She's given a task, something she's capable of doing, and the large wolf shuffles back away from the boy (but not before very gently nosing him with a little lick.

She slips from the den awkwardly to notice the sounds around her. Bird chirped eagerly and the world seems new, fogged over with a slight chill that'll disappear within the hour. The sky is barely there, illuminating in the distance but still dark enough that morning is yet to be birthed. Thuringwethil lifts her nose, then, to give a worried cry to the far reaches of the dragon for the wolves that might have the answer: @Gluskap, @Saria, @Portia.

It's early when the Heda calls, and Portia is nearby. She had been spending the morning tree gazing, learning the different sorts of greenery that grew here in Drageda. She hadn't found anything out of the ordinary recently, but it was enough for her just to get to know her surrondings.

She moves quickly towards the call, her ears perking with interest. She arrives and bows respectfully, her tail low but wagging. "You called, my Heda?" she says, glancing towards the den.

Did a lil bit of research. I can't recall what you'd said it was. Colic maybe? Anyway there is chamomile that grows in BC but usually near dryer parts of the shore. I'd definitely say glu would have some from their trip. Let me know if colic isn't the case and I'll go back to searching haha

The coywolf had found himself rather at home with the dragons. Though he could not deny that some of them were an odd bunch, they had allowed him to stick to himself mostly. He has participated in their hunt. He had traveled the coast in search of herbs, and he had already assisted some of the members in their ranks. His stock of herbs had grown quite large since the return of the greenery. His trip to the shore with the dark Heda had proven fruitful as well. His den reeked of an assortment of knick knacks and leaves, and those scents clung to his pelt like a perfume. 

The call sounded overhead and the slender male drew his ears forward out of curiosity. The leaders had just had pups and he was not certain why they would summon him unless something was wrong. Quick as he could, the skeletal figure made his way to the den. Inside smelled of milk and youth. There was an unknown female as well. Glu eyed her with a sharp gaze, lifting his tail upwards. He did not dare simply insert himself in the den of a new mother. He stood outside, yellow eyes flashing. "Heda," he spoke just loudly enough for the dark woman to hear that he had arrived. 

Loose posting order. Saria is still welcome to jump in.

It doesn't take long for two wolves to show up. Portia arrives first and she tenses around the new female. Having her this close to the whelping den made Thuringwethil a little uneasy but if it's the only chance she has at fixing the problem, she'll take it. However, relief floods her at the appearance of Gluskap—while still largely a mystery, she had gotten to know and spend time with on the coast and his skills were far from questioned thus far. She waits a few more minutes after they've addressed her for Saria but she decides she can't wait any longer.

"Something is wrong with Gyda's son," she tells them, as much as she might consider them her own. "He won't stop crying and we think he's in pain," she adds though she can't entirely be sure. Her lips purse in frustration that it might not be enough information, or that they—one of them—might need to see him. She glances back to the mouth of the den and considers her options. Letting one into the den meant she would have to stay on the outside but bringing Hvitserk out of the den might compromise his little system.

She glances back around, searching once more for Saria's face, and on a whim Lucani, that might make this easier. There is nothing and she looks to Gluskap instead.

"You can look at him, if you need to," she says, words clipped, if you try anything is all she can think in her concern. All the trust she has placed in her Sjöunda comes out then, for if she had any doubt (despite what she may get across in body language) he wouldn't be standing here today.

Even though the Heda offers, Portia doesn't feel safe going inside the den. She's still a new member and holds no real authority-- it somehow feels risky. She shakes her head, "I'll stand back, you can go-- you've been here longer, Hun," she says, glancing to the man beside her. "If anything, I'd suggest Chamomile. We used to give it to the poor pups who screamed nonstop at my old home," she offers to both wolves. She figured it was somewhere to start-- perhaps he'd know more about what was going on. She'd never actually heard of the crying being connected to a disease-- just knew that the chamomile helped.

Their leader emerged with a fretful expression on her dark face, and Glu peered at her with a curious glint in his eye. Something was certainly wrong. Fighting the urge to pry, the coywolf imagined that things would unfold in a matter of time. The Heda said that one of the pups was ill, or so they believed, and that he had cried for some time. The coywolf furrowed his brows and squinted into the den where the children were being kept; he could scent milk in the air just outside, and the fresh aroma of the puppies that were nestled within. There was a fair bit of squealing from the dark hole, but the skeletal coywolf did not budge from his position outside.
 
The stranger beside him seemed to think that it was more appropriate for Gluska to enter the den, seeing as he had been there longer. He turned to face her with his slender muzzle and shook his head. “I will not enter a mother’s den unless the children are my own,” he returned to her with a hint of a smile on his features. There was a peculiar way about him. The woman then suggested that they use chamomile on the child. It was worth the shot. “I have a good stock of it in my den, Heda. This woman seems to have good instinct. Thyme might be useful as well. Either way, I have the stock,” he explained to the dark leader with a quick bow of his narrow skull.

Skipping @Gyda and @Hvitserk this round since @Portia is going out of town soon. :)

Even if she hadn't been direct about how to view the child, Thuringwethil thinks Portia understands she'd been talking to Gluskap on his permission—whether it be the den or bring the boy out—but upon watching the exchange she isn't sure. Gluskap denies going in and Heda slowly nods her head in understanding. Even if it limits her options, there's a comfort in Gluskap making the decision and even in Saria's absence, she's confident in her trust for the male.

Both wolves list a few herbs and she looks between the two as silence falls on them, considering her new options on caring for the wailing babe.

"I will bring him out if needed," she tells them but not free of worry of doing damage. If she can keep him inside with his mother, she will, but only if his health just compromised in the process. "But the herbs you have mentioned, if not the right thing, will it hurt him?" she asks then before dismissing them for the remedy. If the boy can remain with his mother, and she bring the cure to him instead of disrupting everything, she would prefer.

<3

The girl smiles at Gluskap, but knows better than to try anything so bold in front of her Heda. Instead she merely eyes him for a few extra heartbeats before glancing back to the Heda, still avoiding her gaze. "Perhaps that's a better idea," she replies as she turns, her tail waving lowly behind her.

As the Heda asks another question, Portia's ears perk curiously in thought before she shakes her head. "Unless he's allergic, but there are plenty of herbs to help with an allergic reaction, Hun, I wouldn't worry about that," she tells her, glancing to Gluskap for a quick reassurance. "I can't speak for Thyme though-- and I'd reccommend chewing it up for the baby, especially if he doesn't have any teeth," she adds, her attention turning back to her Heda. She's still new, and really knows nothing about the leadership here-- the babies must be young though, if they are still packed into a den.

The dark woman then suggested that she could bring the child outside to be examined. While Glu wanted desperately to catch a sight of the youngsters, he refrained from the suggestion. The coywolf was not yet in a place where he could so brashly make remarks such as that one. Instead, he offered the inky woman a better alternative. “If we do this correctly, you may not even have to remove him from his mother’s side,” the coywolf spoke with a curling smile.
 
The other female – the woman unknown to him – seemed to suggest that the pup would be fine as long as he did not have an allergic reaction to one of the herbs. This was accurate, and so the skeletal male nodded his head and swished the stub of his tail a bit. “I can retrieve the herbs and return. Once I am back, make sure they are chewed up into a salve… but my recommendation would be to put the salve on the mother’s teats. Once the boy should try to feed, he will be getting the herbs alongside his regular meal,” Gluska then suggested, dark lips curling as if to suggest that it was a relatively intelligent idea.

Her eyes narrow as Portia speaks, not liking what she says, but when Gluskap speaks up, she feels a little more soothed. Even if he didn’t disprove an allergic reaction, he’s at least able to confirm her remedies. “Okay,” she finally says after digesting the information, looking between the two. Hvitserk’s wails have yet to lighten and her ears fall back against her head, jerking her nose to send off Gluskap do get what he needs.

“Hurry.”

feel free to PP her tagging along and retrieving herbs with him if Gluskap lets her come with.

"I can help," Portia offers to Gluskap, her ears perking slightly. "Two paws are better than one, my momma used to always say," she adds, smiling gently. She waits for him to accept or deny her offer to help, avoiding eye contact and maintaining a humble stance, but looking hopefully at him all the same.

It seemed as though the Heda wished for him to fetch the herbs that would assist the young pup in his trial, and in that same breath, the unfamiliar female wished to follow him. While the halfling was a private individual, he nodded his head to the other aspiring healer and darted away from the presence of their leader without another word, assuming that she would follow closely behind. His spindly legs carried him across the pack land with ease until he had reached the cave that he called his own. Without much word, Gluska motioned with a quick toss of his muzzle in the direction of the chamomile, though it would have been easy to scent. Assuming that she would gather this, he gripped the thyme in his jaws and scurried out of the hole with a bounce in his step. It was not likely that the female would have had enough time to notice his collection of eyeballs that lined the walls in strange locations, and a vast array of other peculiar body parts.
 
Once he had arrived back to the Heda, the cadaverous creature dropped the herbs outside the den and breathed heavily, turning his skull to see if the pale woman was following shortly behind him. His chest rose and fell with each breath, but Glu found himself morbidly curious to know if the herbs would actually harm the child or not. Fate would only tell.

They both disappear and Thuringwethil becomes antsy in their absence, pacing a little back and forth, returning to the mouth of the den. Hvitserk still crying, Gyda grooming him, and there’s nothing she can do. The tension building between her shoulders stiffens her gait. She’s grown fond of Drageda’s first children, hoping not to lose one already.

Upon their arrival and the instruction from earlier, Thuringwethil takes the herbs carefully and places them near the mouth of the den, where Gyda then takes them. When the boy will eat, Thuringwethil isn’t sure, but she lingers for a while. She dismisses the two wolves for now, making sure they stay in the pack lands for the next day or two, and when the time arrives, puts the herbs to good use.