Arrow Lake mondlicht

mahler knew himself to be a creature of habit and censure, and so it was with a heaviness that he approached the place where ketzia had made her whelping den. had he known that the swelling of her flanks was caused by the general, he would have made himself perhaps more available. he himself bore no ill will toward the woman, though takiyok's ire was palpable and wreathed through the land like a heavy incense.
he had been gone too long, scouting down as far as the foothills, with a singular goal that did not encompass hunting nor the pursuit of new territory. sheepishly, the midwife bore his worn fur with its fresh offerings to the new mother's doorstep, pausing outside to lower it upon the earth and murmur "@Ketzia?" into the cool air of dusk.

She nursed them, she loved them, she guarded them. The tension that clung to Diaspora was impassable, and the new mother did her best to ignore the discomfort of it, though she did not bother to hide her disdain. Takiyok’s burning gaze had been informative enough during the hunt—the notion that the ivory woman had so willingly accepted two outside mothers without blinking an eye was not lost on the sylph, though she held her tongue for the moment.

Mahler’s voice drew a frown to the exotic features of the pale honeyed wolf. She coaxed her brood closer together, unwinding slender limbs from their warmth before pressing forward to the eden entrance. Diminuitive yet graceful, it would still be a mistake to test the mother bear.

Stark eyes flitted over her visitor, never once having missed the fact that he as well had tended to mothers unknown to their fold prior to their conception—strangers had been more readily accepted than her own.

“Kapitän,” she uttered, her tone cool, addressing the man before her by his title rather than the familiarity of his name. Perhaps it was the migrating hormones of her body descending from its birth, but the woman was feeling particularly salty these days.

ketzia attended her door rather than welcome mahler inside; he met her cool gaze with his usual impassive stare, noting that her loveliness was undiminished. ”i have recently returned and vanted to look in upon you and the new children,” mahler began crisply, indicating his satchel with a nod. 
”vhatever the prevailing thought might be, i do not care, nor do i pass judgement. i am the midvife here, not a clucking hen.” it was the truth; he respected both takiyok and stigmata, though the latter must for the pack’s sake hold some of mahler’s disdain. ketzia had not been the one to disrespect their former pionier, and any child borne to diaspora was precious, was innocent.

Her greeting was met with his own clipped statement—short and to the point. Guarded, the female would only shift her position slightly, unwilling still to let the man further into her home and close to what she now considered the most valuable of treasures. 

She did not comment on the gossip that potentially circulated the pack. She had heard nothing—which was perhaps what burned the most. Instead, she was met with the cold disdain of certain packmates gazes and the absence of many others.

In the wake of nursing babes and the silence that followed her hourly, it was not lost upon the unwavering mother that Diaspora was perhaps not the hearth and home she had been promised nor craved. Choices would need to be made within the coming weeks, but for now, she would swallow her thoughts, pushing them aside and not quite recognizing the creeping affects of post-partum. 

We are well, thank you, she provided, her own tone succumbing and softening to the simple fact that at least the man before her was bothering to check in on them now.

it seemed she was determined not to clear her threshold for him, and who could blame her for such? mahler had no intention of bullying her down, nor evoking her maternal rage; new mothers must be treated with care and with respect.
nodding briefly in her direction, mahler began to open the pouch he had brought, laying out its contents upon the soft surface. ”for your milk,” the gargoyle murmured, indicating a sprig of dark greenery and the traditional flesh offering of fatty beaver’s tail he had brought for the other mothers.
”i vill not be far if i am needed,” mahler intoned, glancing up into her closed features. it remained to be seen if he would be summoned for any malady or necessity; however, he would not remain where he was unwanted. 
backing from her doorstep, the kapitan paused to see if there was anything else ketzia wished to say before he took his leave of her.

His offering was observed with an unreadable gaze from the dove—the corner of her lip giving a small twitch as if the only indication that she uneasy of her treatment for the only ever-loyal Kapitän. Mahler had always been a presence of comfort, but what she had thought to know of the Diaspora wolves had proven to be very little, and with Stigmata’s presence divided among his many tasks and with Thorn’s disappearance, the place felt more forboding than any home she had kept before…and that included her birth home.

She stated nothing more. Her tongue smoothed across her lips, her sharp eyes studying him before she crept forward, nosing at the beavertail and herb. Only when she watched him leave did she move his gifts to the safety of her den, the slender form of the ivory mother wolf curling protectively around her tiny bundles. She did not yet know who she had to protect them fully from and would trust no one until they had proven themselves.