Redtail Rise fairy-land

hoping for @Ashlar but AW <3

no use in reinventing the wheel.

Avicus returned to her old whelping den, at the foothills of the mountains that protected the Rise, deep in the conifer forest. it was in obvious disuse and needed clearing, but at least a new one would not need to be dug.

methodic but idle, she begins to clear the brush and snow from the hollow, memories flooding her mind despite her workmanlike attitude.

her first trio—grown now, or nearly there, at least. grown enough, anyway.

she felt Redd, Relic and Masquerade in every facet of this place, and the pain of birth, and the confusion, and the eventual love she'd found in each of their tiny hearts.

one particularly large branch had fallen over the entrance, and she tugged it away now, breathing a bit heavily. she'd grown large enough to hate everything, primarily her own body, and it wouldn't be long before she was begging for sweet relief from this hell.

Avicus loved her children, but hated—hated—being pregnant.

yes!!

Ashlar was slightly subdued when he returned from his time with the strange woman. He was still torn on if he had truly helped her, but what was done was done and he’d only done the best he could. Still, he busied himself teaching @Revui the business of what was to come. His “apprentice” was still cautious around plants but Ashlar hoped he would gain some confidence if he learned to clearly tell the bad from the good. In the meantime, preparing for pregnancy and birth required things other than herbs.

He’d wondered where Avicus would decide to house her new ones. He was passing the den when he found his answer, and the bard immediately changed trajectory when he saw what she was doing.

I can help, if you want? He wouldn’t if she’d rather it be prepared by herself, but it had been his intention for a while. She shouldn’t have to worry about it alone when he could easily assist.

I think you mean Reki ;D

the crunching and shifting of foliage alerted her to Ashlar's appearance, and she turns, giving her healer a small smile before nodding.

yeah, she replies, setting the large branch down with a heavy sigh. she sits down for a moment, panting despite the cold. any exertion wears on her lately;

(did i mention she hates this shit?)

'hhank you, Avicus says to Ashlar, her eyes warm upon his wiry frame.

she wonders about his seed within her. will it grow to be like him—slight, timid? will it take on her own attributes? or Prophet's?

she'd taken him in for kindness. that was a strength on its own.

but still. . .she wonders.

I want to help too, Masquerade rumbled as she appeared nearby, head and tail held in deference to her elders.

She was never far from Avicus these days, watching in fascination as the Wealda’s flanks grew rounder every day. Masque had no way of knowing when her younger siblings would make their appearance, though she sensed it must be soon. And Avicus seeking a place to whelp them supported that theory.

Her eyes drifted to the mouth of the den, dimly recognizing the place of her own birth. Mostly she saw all the work they must do to make it habitable again. Her muscles tensed as she awaited the Wealda’s permission.

Ashlar stepped up and grabbed the branch, hauling it carefully out of the way as one of Avicus’ former brood stepped in to offer help as well. He smiled, though he also silently dismissed the subject he’d intended to bring up. Talking about the woman he’d helped seemed wrong with anyone but Avicus; like a violation of her privacy, somehow. He only wanted her to know in case the woman came to them again, but he would need to catch her alone some other time. It was no easy task these days, understandably.

After dragging it to the side he remained where he was, tail softly waving. Without crowding, he did not know if there was room for two, and he’d rather Masquerade have the chance to help. He knew vaguely that their interests lay in caretaking.

before they can do much work together, Masquerade appears with her own offer to help. she turns her gaze upon her daughter and nods quickly, a faint smile upon her face. she watches as the girl approaches the mouth of the den—and feels a little nostalgic, even.

you were born here, Avicus reminisces, taking the opportunity to rest a bit. you remember?

it hadn't been too long ago, and yet, it felt impossibly far from this moment. 

her eyes roll sideways to look at Ashlar. you're welcome to stay, her placid stare reads.

Avicus’s question gave her pause. She did not recall being born, though she did remember the whelping den vaguely from those first couple months of life. Her eyes shifted to the den’s mouth again and she stepped closer, dropping her head to sniff a moment before raising it and looking toward the Wealda.

Yes, Masque said, a little. Her tail wriggled before she added, It needs a good cleaning. You should rest while we take care of it for you, she suggested, indicating Ashlar with her ruddy snout and what she hoped was an ingratiating smile.

Of course, Avicus might want to do it herself, seeing as she would be the one using it. In that case, Masque wouldn’t argue. But she quietly hoped that the Wealda would take this opportunity to let her subordinates do her bidding, since she was doing another kind of hard work already by creating and carrying her pups.

fading him to the background, y’all can skip past him and just assume he’s helping however makes sense

He would stay and he would help, though the space would’ve uncomfortably limited with two of them actively working inside. He’d facilitate how he could from out here.

He would do so quietly, listening to them as they reminisced on the previous year.

'rest' isn't in her vocabulary. well—not voluntary rest, anyway. but she'll take Masque's words in stride with a nod; it's pretty tight in there for two adult wolves, anyway. she instead retreats to Ashlar's side, sitting next to the healer with a brief sigh.

won' be long, she remarks to them both, swiping her tongue along her jowls. her distended belly grumbles. she's constantly hungry these days as the little parasites inside her suck all her nutrients away.

Avicus has tried to count them, but in vain. whatever's within her womb feels more like an amorphous, writhing blob. many, is her best guess. perhaps even more than last year.

It surprised her a little when the Wealda accepted her terms. She must be quite uncomfortable, a thought which made the yearling frown thoughtfully. Masque faced the den’s interior, making a mental note to fetch the badger skin and lay it on the floor. It would get ruined—first by the whelping, then by everything that came after that—but it would make the den a little comfier for Avicus.

It took her a while to clear out the space, then go and retrieve the skin. When she finished, Masquerade took a step back and admired her handiwork. It wasn’t her opinion that mattered, however. She turned her muzzle toward Avicus and Ashlar, giving them a bit of a bashful smile before ranging over to them.

Mother… she said a little hesitantly before drawing in a breath and just forcing it out, do you think I could be there? When they come? Not inside, Masque added hastily, just close by. I want to look out for you. And them. Make sure nobody bothers you. Bring you whatever you need.

Avicus watches her daughter's ministrations, sitting comfortably by Ashlar and resisting the urge to lean against him (though he'd love that, most certainly). it's strange to feel so weak; she had hated it before and she hates it now, and yearns for the day when she needs the bare minimum assistance once more.

Masque finishes and asks her a question, moving into an explanation. she nods slowly along, then more firmly as the girl finishes her spiel, glancing at the healer.

you can help him, Avicus says, gaze warm. he'dh like your help. righh'? Reki has been scarce since his incident in the hinterlands, so the more paws to assist Ashlar, the better.

something's beginning to dawn on her, but she won't know it for a while, yet.

As Masquerade brought things to the entrance, Ashlar helped to shift them away, until what was left was only that which a single wolf was needed. Then he settled next to Avicus again, close enough that his flank rested against hers so long as she didn’t shift away. He never forced such contact but he was a wolf who embraced it fully, be it with friends or family or lovers. Avicus happened to be the epitome of all three. A soul mate who he recognized he could never own.

I would. Ashlar nodded and looked at Masque encouragingly, even as his own nerves kicked in. Last year all had gone well and he had not been needed for much. This year he hoped would be the same. Deeper complications might be more than his knowledge could handle, he feared, but helping her to clean the pups and keep them warm was something he still held close and cherished each time he saw them growing. Despite having no part in forming them, it was a bond he could hold.

When… He paused, then began again. It depends. But after, they need dried and warmed. It would be up to Avicus who was with her in the den, but if she chose to allow Masquerade to only observe, there would be a chance after. Ashlar did not mention it, but he had stayed close last year to ensure no complications arose in the hours that followed while she rested. This was a role a daughter could just as easily perform.

The Wealda’s answer confused Masquerade at first. She glanced at Ashlar, wondering why he should need her help. He wasn’t pregnant. He was a man. She felt a lump of disappointment in her throat but was determined not to let it show in front of her superiors. She didn’t speak, just nodded her acknowledgement of her mother’s words. They were law.

When the Hǣlend spoke, she swallowed and turned an ear toward him, though her gaze fixed on her own forepaws. When she parsed his words, however, she looked up quite rapidly and blinked at him. Her eyes cut to Avicus, then back to Ashlar, as—oh! She suddenly realized what her dam had meant: Masque could help Ashlar help Avicus.

Yes, yes, I will do whatever you need, Masque said, her relief and gratitude so great that her eyes shone a little, whatever they need. Her eyes pinned to the Wealda’s great belly, then drifted up to her chin as she tacked on, Anything.

of course Ashlar's okay with it. he even gives the girl specific instructions, which she's grateful for. she doesn't care what they do, as long as they get the babies out of her alive and well.

the various emotions that flit across her daughter's face confuse Avicus, and that confusion isn't resolved even when Masque relaxes. she isn't aware she'd been misunderstood, but shrugs it off as another one of those quirks of the red-masked girl, with a greater emotional complexity than her more primitive siblings.

goodh, she replies, pleased. she stands, stretches, and makes her way into the now-cleared den, admiring Masquerade's handiwork. she circles once, twice, then settles down with a small groan, shifting so that her belly isn't squished under the rest of her.

very goodh, Avicus says again, with feeling. her indigo eyes peer out from the dim light of the hollow, blinking thoughtfully at the healer and the budding caretaker. 'hhank you.

it's perhaps even finer than the den had been last spring.