Frogspawn Swamp the farmers’ trees are full of fruit and the barns are full of hay

All welcome! This song always made me smile. It is about a frog who has lumpy-bumpy skin, but still manages to find love by singing his froggy song.

NOTE: Each of the traveling threads is a day apart. ♥ This is day eight, March 28, 2017.

“He kani kapalili i ka pôuliuli
o `ke mele aloha a Poloka
E konikoni ana ke ki'owai
lepo me ka leo heahea i ka ipo
`O ka hoku `imo`imo o ka lani lipolipo
ke kukui e hô`ike mai nei
He mana`olana kona i ka ho`oniponipo
me ka ipo ho`ohenoheno ana!”

It was one of Brontide Corten’s songs that slipped from between Lotte’s pressed together lips tonight, and although her pronunciation was just this side of atrocious, the meaning behind the lyrics served its desired purpose: she smiled. Through the pain and the mounting fever, her wan lips tipped upward at the corners, and she turned her muzzle to groom with fervent intensity at her swollen abdomen. She was clean and fed and rested, but all of these things translated to incredibly active cubs that poked and prodded, pulled and bit at her insides until she was forced to call an abrupt stop not for Olive’s sake, but for her own.

“Ua `oli`oli `o ia a ka pâ `olu`olu
o ke kilikilihune o ka ua
I ho`olalilali i ka `ili pu`upu`u
ma ke kua `oma`oma'o ona
He kakali wale kona i ka lohe`ia aku
o kana mele o ke aumoe
A `ume`ume `ia kahi hoa kikiko`ele
e ka leo mikololohua!”

Frogs were not edible fare, but even if they were, the young mother-to-be had little interest in eating. With her teeth gritted together, she tried to focus on the positive: Arturo was alive and well, and clearly, so were the children he’d given her; the Family was provided for; and according to Chusi, the pack was only a few days’ travel from reaching the idyllic strath where they would make their new home. There was a great deal to be thankful for, but feeling like a beached whale dampened Banríon’s usual optimism. She dropped her head wearily to her paws, mumbling the last verse instead of singing it outright.

“Mai kinohi loa mai a i kêia po
ua lohe mau `ia kana mele
Ma na ki`owai lepo o na `âina like
`ole a hiki `auane`i i `ane`i
Ma waho iki aku o ka lumi moe o `u
i ke kulukulu o ke aumoe
Ha`ina ka puana no ka maka pu`upu`u
i pili hala 'ole ke aloha!”

During Teaghlaigh’s trip to their new territory, Olive will be experiencing the 7 stages of grief — grief over the pain of Dakarai losing (and regaining) his memory, being brutalized, BFW finding them, being demoted and abandoning Ravensblood Forest… and a little bit of postpartum depression. Each thread will represent a different stage of grief, dated in order (albeit, a little expedited). This thread represents stage six: reconstruction and working through.  Of course, feel free to skip Olive! I’ll bring her in when she is needed and/or addressed.

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 It was strange, the almost imperceptible change she felt inside. It was small and hesitant, yet glowing and growing ever stronger. The nips she felt from her no longer inspired a sense of dread and failure [and a sort of meta-guilt that tried to apologize for her melancholy] . The kisses of her beloved did not feel hollow as when the family had balkanize and they became officially disgraced. The sun did not taunt her [nor did the stars] with their infinite and divine impeccability.  It wasn’t that Olive existed as a bundle of sunshine and rainbows now — but her mind entertained thoughts of the future, and her body strengthened enough to stimulate children’s growing minds with play [a job which, for nearly the entirety of their exodus, had fallen to their father]. There was hope for a happy life yet.

Just as Olive felt good, it was clear Lotte felt not good. Though the queen carried her pregnancy well and managed to mask her pain from most of the family — Lotte could not fool Olive. Motherhood was divine and only truly understood by those who experienced it, the ups as well as the downs. It was something the two women had in common, even though Arturo thought of the circumstances as competition. Olive [who was, by now, quite convinced that she was an experienced mother and had seen everything that was to be seen] saw Lotte and saw the discomfort she experienced at the behest of her swelling belly… and Olive could swear she felt some sympathy kicks within her own [now] vacant womb. Such discomfort for Teaghlaigh’s queen, the sole wolf in the family who had shown her family family true kindness, simply would not do!

The caravan halted. From her tender jaws, the sylph deposited her oil slicked girl (@Cassiopeia) beside Dakarai with the others, placed two deliberate kisses on Dakarai’s soft, suede cheek and fell in line with the trees and underbrush that shrouded their encampment. The purpose of her foray was a small bush with delicate leaves — Raspberry leaves. Of course, Olive knew naught of medicine except what had shared with her during her own pregnancy and recovery. The sheepdog, during her seemingly endless visits to replenish their medicinal stash and change poultices and bandages, brought raspberry leaves to relieve some of the tension which had plagued her enciente body. However, Carina was not present and Isle- Hemlock, seemed to have more important sleuthing to do. Olive could not pretend she was a medicine woman, but her memory was sharp and her ability to locate and identify plants was second to none. Olive would be the one to find the leaves and create a tincture for her queen — and then, slowly, perhaps she would worm her way back into Teaghlaigh’s good graces.

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