Swiftcurrent Creek We can both pretend it's the first time

Reverie returned to Swiftcurrent Creek at a painfully slow pace. Blood was dried into one side of her flank, her face, her legs. Blossom was less fortunate, her golden fur turned all spiky off-brown so that she was hardly recognizable. Reverie's blood, all of it. She was just too tired to clean Blossom a third time, or herself at all.
She saw @Moss even before she neared the border, radiating tension as she stalked along the invisible boundary, and something small and weak came fluttering to life in Reverie's chest. Something like love, perhaps, but she was too tired to analyze it now. All she knew was that Moss was here, waiting, as she'd promised. And Lestan was not.
Her legs trembled slightly as she closed the distance. She felt as if she might faint at any moment, and so when the space between herself and Moss had dwindled nearly to nothing, she set Blossom at her own paws and sat down hard. Nonetheless, she offered Moss a tired smile.
Her name is Blossom, She said softly. Isn't she beautiful?

Moss paced the borders with all the patience and restraint of a swinging pendulum. With each hour that passed she found herself fighting both doubt and worry, but convinced herself to trust that Reverie knew herself well enough to know when she needed help. Every moment of silence suspended her somewhere between relief and despair. 

When Reverie appeared in the distance, it was to Moss as though the sun rose for the first time, spilling gold across the horizon. Moss crossed the space between them like a sweeping shadow. In her mouth Reverie carried a single, bedraggled pup whose quiet mewls were a happy breath of life. Similarly bloodied and unkempt, Reverie appeared exhausted and weakened but Moss moved to her side to stabilize her. 

She could be cleaned later. The child, too. She wasn’t sure exactly how to feel, looking down at the tiny creature, but she knew in an instant that the little bud would have every single thing she needed. 

Including a beautiful name. 

”She’s perfect.” Moss breathed. She herself was warm from all the pacing, and brought herself close so she might shelter the two of them from the breeze. ”Let’s get you home. Can you walk? Do you want a break?”

Perfect. Reverie could not help but wonder if Lestan would say the same thing, if he could see her. Or would he only see the blood and Reverie's trembling limbs? I shouldn't think of him now, she told herself, and leaned into Moss as much as she dared. All she wanted was to sleep, but only so long as Moss stayed at her side.
A break would be nice, She murmured, and yawned as if on cue. It was a lot of trouble, you know, for just one! I can't imagine more... But even her complaint was warmed by the fondness she felt for her daughter, and the contentment she felt with Moss here.

Drops her in here for a quick cameo

Contentment.

She didn’t know the name of it, but that’s what it was.

The gilded girl covered in muck, but not minding it, happily swinging to and fro with every one of Reverie’s steps.

It was only when she was sat down that her tiny brow furrowed, and she let out a little noise, confusion in her breath.

Mreeeee?

She mewled for a second, but eventually found her contentment again, nestled in the dirt. Trusting wholly in those around and above her, Blossom dropped into a nap.

Moss cast a glance to the wilderness, as though to warn even the rising mist and the lengthening shadows to keep their prying gazes to themselves. She would be eyes and ears, while Reverie sank into rest in her watch, the quiet child at her side.

A little plea rose, and Moss gently reached to touch the back of Reverie’s neck, willing her to feel comfortable enough to tend to her child while Moss kept watch over her shoulder. 

”I can only imagine,” The woman admitted, having never been a mother herself. ”How are you feeling? Tired? Are you in any pain?” She asked. The little one seemed content enough, finally receiving a bit of stillness.

Reverie smiled slightly to see Moss looking so watchful. She always sort of did, but there was something extra to it in Blossom's presence. For a moment Reverie felt like they could have been — something like a normal family, maybe. Except they could never do that.
Because Reverie would always love Lestan, and honestly? She could not picture herself marrying a woman. The realization was a cruel and abrupt cut through the warmth of the moment, at least for Reverie. Her smile faded, but her good humor lingered. I feel awful, She laughed, because it was all she could do. She inspected Blossom, but the girl seemed to have fallen asleep. It - didn't go very well. There was a problem. I fixed it, but - it's going to be awhile before I feel like myself, I think. It wasn't — necessarily a lie. Everything she said was true. It just wasn't the full truth.
Sometimes it scared her to know that she did not feel guilty at all for the lies she told.

There was a brittle nature to Reverie’s voice that reminded Moss of the sound of thin ice crackling underfoot. Not the creaks and groans of lake ice, but the sort that splintered and could split skin like glass. Something was amiss; Moss, a natural skeptic, sensed it- and stubbornly denied it any sort of validity. 

She wasn’t typically a worrywort. Paranoid, of course- but the sort who would anxiously write off red flags in the hopes that denial might erase them from existence. Whatever problem it was that Reverie referred to, was inconsequential now. She was alive- and she had one child to show for it. Moss would not ask if there had been others, or if she had lost a troubling amount of blood. Her presence and warmth would see that she survived this. 

She grappled with her own paranoia and sought the solace of turning a blind eye to any hints she might have been given. ”Childbirth is hard. This was your first; and you did so well, Reverie. And, all on your own.” For her most cherished treasure, the kindest words would be all she would hear. ”I’m glad you’re back safe, but I knew you could do it.”

Reverie was still unused to how gentle Moss often was with her; she still couldn't quite bring herself to expect it from the woman who had, on their first meeting, so fully intimidated her. Her heart fluttered up into her throat at the praise, and she reached up to press a quick kiss to Moss's cheek without thinking about it. Then she flushed and her eyes dropped. She had been too forward, surely!
But she couldn't help it. It helped, knowing you were here waiting for me, Reverie admitted, daring to look back to her. And this was nothing but the truth; in many ways Reverie could not fully express just how much Moss's presence helped. If not for Moss, she might have lost herself fully to madness already. She might be dead.