Sawtooth Spire Singing Oh my lord, she'll be the death of me

With things more or less settled in terms of bringing the two packs together, Wylla turned her attention to the impending birth of her cubs. She was already feeling the urge to nest creeping up on her, and she was getting larger by the day, with swollen teats that made denying the pregnancy impossible. This being her second rodeo, the signs were a lot more obvious than when she'd been pregnant with Tiercel.

Her instincts carried her down into the deepest part of Sagtannet's valley in search of a suitably private and central location to begin building her whelping den. The search brought her into a thick tangle of trees in close proximity to the river, and it was here she began rooting around for a promising place to start digging.

Former Courtfall members or newcomers would be fun!

The evening was spent in the company of men, and while Ainhoa enjoyed getting to know her superiors, she found herself becoming increasingly uncomfortable. Her promise was to treat the pregnant and their whelps, neither of which could be accomplished when biding her time with the males. She set out the following morning, intending to find one of the two expectant mothers mentioned by Wintersbane. 

The sound of snow crunching drew her toward the riverbank. She scanned the area, finally settling upon the somewhat distant frame of a stranger hidden within the tangle of trees. She cooed and fell into slight submission, wary of possible temperament issues as she made her approach.

Pregnancy did a lot of things to the body, and not all of them were bad. Wylla hadn't experienced any nausea with either of her pregnancies, but she did suffer from psychological symptoms: mood swings, more irritation and suspicion than normal, and a convenient hyper-awareness about her surroundings. Even though Wylla was deep in the trees and focused, one ear was already trained on Ainhoa's footfalls before the newcomer even spotted her.

She waited to see if the approaching wolf announced themselves before rising. When Ainhoa cooed, Wylla stood and turned to pin the unfamiliar she-wolf with a piercing yellow stare. Drunk on her status as Eisen and pricklier than usual thanks to the aches and pains of her bloated body, Wylla appraised Ainhoa's minor display of submission and decided it wasn't enough from a Sagtannet newbie.

She lifted her lips in a silent grimace and flashed her tail just above her hocks, not high enough to be overbearing, but hopefully high enough to get more of a reaction than what'd been given. All while asking, in her typical brusque manner, what do you want?

Ainhoa took an apprehensive step backward. Her eyes drew to thin slits, through which she observed the slight curve of the woman's abdomen. It was hardly noticeable, and had she not been looking for it, the bump might have gone unnoticed by even her trained gaze. Falling even lower, the sylph licked her lips in submission and opened her mouth to speak. 

I am the midwife, she explained, Wintersbane tells me there are pregnant women here. Ainhoa assumed that Wylla would either confirm or deny, so waited silently for either response.

She was placated somewhat by the way Ainhoa crouched, enough to openly scoff rather than snarl when the newcomer spoke again. Oh, Wintersbane had said so, had he? Wylla would need to have a chat with her fellow Eisen sometime about the value of respecting someone else's privacy. Her pregnancy wasn't exactly a secret, but she didn't approve of telling every bright-eyed newcomer such things. You never knew when one of them secretly had nefarious intentions.

The midwife? She swept a critical eye over Ainhoa. She wasn't a bad looking she-wolf, a soft shade of brown that complemented both the white and black banding across her shoulders. Seemingly demure and eager to help. The problem wasn't Ainhoa, though. The problem was that Wylla was a notoriously difficult wolf to get along with, and that was especially true where other women were concerned, and she often didn't beat around the bush or make things easy for those who sought her company.

Mahler is the midwife. He will remain the midwife for the pregnant women here, myself included. You're just a thrall. You don't get to claim such titles until you've actually proven yourself worthy of them.

Women were often irritable during pregnancy. It wasn't always the case, but more often than not, Ainhoa was caught with a particularly difficult patient. Wylla was not the first and she surely wouldn't be the last, so the slurry of insults were brushed off with impressive ease. She maintained her short stature despite its apparent ineffectiveness.

The mention of Mahler was unexpected. The evening prior, he had explained his position as midwife and left Ainhoa quite confused. A whelping den was no place for a man; he didn't belong anywhere near a laboring mother or her newly-born children, but it was not her place to say so. 

She cleared her throat and spoke once more. Then I am a midwife, she clarified, I've only offered myself, but I will not try to force things. It was Wylla's decision to make, and while Ainhoa might not agree, she didn't want to try and change her mind.

It didn't seem like Ainhoa had really heard what Wylla said, but she didn't care to correct the woman a second time. If the grizzled Eisen had anything to say about it, an unproven newcomer to the pack wouldn't get within a wolf's length of any pregnant woman in the pack, let alone their newborn cubs. Too much at stake and too much of a gamble. Until such a time as she earned the trust of the female Eisen, that's just how things were going to be.

Kay then, she said noncommittally, moving away from Ainhoa to investigate the roots of the nearest tree. After a little while, she pursed her lips and turned away. Not stable enough. Are you looking for something to do? she wondered, assuming Ainhoa hadn't up and left.

Ainhoa heard the woman's dismissal, but it seemed to fade with her response. A slightly confused frown came over her face as she listened to Wylla speak. I-, she began, No. I will return to foraging. She offered the Eisen a polite smile and dipped her head, then turning to make her exit.

Alright then, was the only response Wylla had. If Ainhoa stuck around then the Eisen might've put her to work looking for good places to cache food or game trails or trying to find the safest way off this accursed mountain, should she ever want to explore the lowlands, but Ainhoa had her own plans. As long as she was doing something, that was good enough for Wylla. Later, she offered gruffly, only to abandon this particular copse of trees to hunt for something better.