Bearclaw Valley When will you realize Vienne waits for you

The cub nursed steadily at her side, hidden away in the den from the moment she and Ancelin had returned. She was surprised to see that her milk had begun to come in- though she shouldn't have been so shocked; her own children were several days past due. She'd begun to wonder if nursing the cub had triggered her body to hold off on delivering her own children- but when labour came, it came swiftly and her body remembered what to do. 

She moved the bearcub toward @Ancelin as she paced, stopping every now and again to move her nesting materials around, pulling it into a pile and then scattering it as she began to pace again. She paused when she felt contractions, and breathed through them. Once or twice, she moved toward her mate with a dangerous look in her eye, simply because she needed to concentrate on something as she pushed through the pain. 

When she finally settled, it was with four children at her side- five, including the bearcub which she cautiously positioned nearer to her heart, so she could make sure her own brood could nurse without being shoved aside by their larger, ursine sibling. Heart full, she looked to her mate with pride in her eyes. 

New Bearclawth, She grinned.

it was odd how quickly ancelin sort of stopped recognizing the bear as a bear. nestled in their den, covered in his scent and that of ameline, to the man who was about to become a father for the second time, the bear registered more as a pup.
until it made sounds, that is, or clawed against one of them. ancelin watched his mate solemnly as she paced and readjusted, readjusted and paced. he cradled the bearcub and tried to see if it would understand his crooning yet.
the rex had not even considered a language barrier.
eyes widened, shrinking a bit when ameline stalked toward him in a way that said she was a bit out of her mind, he kept his vigil.
one. two. three. four. his heart grew more proud with each one, and the image of them suckling alongside the baby bear made him laugh.
eyes wet, he reached to kiss ameline, pressing his forehead to her own. "excellent job, valley queen."

the world began with fire.
or at least, it felt that way. her whole being burned, muscles too new to understand the way they clenched, twisted, fought against the weight of the world before she even met it. she knew only motion, the push and pull of something vast, something beyond her control. it urged her forward, and so she went—fighting the whole way.
and then—cold. space. open air. she was wrenched from warmth, and the silence shattered. the world roared to life, and so did she.
a wail—no, a song—ripped from her tiny, heaving lungs, unbridled and unrelenting. she sang herself into existence, her voice raw and primal, a shrill declaration that she was here and that the world must know it.
her paws flailed, tiny and useless, but determined. her mouth opened and closed, searching for something, someone—mama.
her wriggling form collided against warmth, against something soft and steady. instinct took over. her voice faltered, replaced by greedy suckling as she latched on, clinging desperately to the life offered to her.
but even then, even drinking deeply, even settling against the thundering heartbeat of her mother—she did not stop her song.
small murmurs, tiny warbles, breathless little cries—her voice never fully silent. she sang, because she was alive.

First there is warmth. A slow swim through limbo. Weightless and symbiotic with the same eternity owned by the cosmos. Beginning before the beginning, blood made flesh.
And then it is cold, abruptly so— sharply so—and if it was fire for his sister, then it seemed to be ice for him. A small mouth gasps at the frigid air, and the first breaths of a quiet brother join the symphony played by new life, a shadow to the noisy one who preceeded him.
He searches for something in the dark and in the silence, an aimless attempt to find mother's fur, made easier when he is guided by parental nudges to suckle alongside his siblings.
He is hesitant, and pushed around easily, but soon, when the strain and the shock of this event fades to an easy comfort, he will find his place.

the world is warm. soft. it smells like something he knows but does not have words for.
he is tumbled, pushed, pressed into something steady. it beats. he knows the sound—he can't hear it, but can feel it. it was there before the light, before the cold, before the voices.
his mouth finds something, and he latches, tiny paws kneading instinctively. he drinks deeply, greedy without knowing why.
the world shifts, jostles. a new shape—big, different, but close. his ear twitches at a feeling, something deep and rumbly. he does not understand it.
his tail wiggles.

Five children. 
She cniffed them, licked them, watched as their fur darkened as it was groomed, and then lightened as it dried. She fussed over each of them, noting the little markings that would set them apart from their siblings. She heard the keening cry of her cinnamon-sugar daughter, and smiled, mulling over what name the little girl might be given. A white, wiggling tail caught her attention, and she looked down at the boy whose face was partially covered by a pale patch. Little highlights about his shoulders hinted that he might also shed his puppy coat, but retain some of her golden-brown markings. 

Aurelian, She said, as if giving him that name might encourage his golden aura to remain, and glow in a cape about his shoulders. You like that for thith guy? She asked her mate, hovering one paw over the boy who feasted at her side.

The final babe was born late.

At least when compared to their siblings. Perhaps it had trouble finding it's way, or perhaps they simply refused to follow instructions. The flail of their limbs in heavy punches and lofty kicks seemed to indicate the latter.

It was neither fire nor ice that the babe was born into. It was both, or maybe something in between. This was not noticed as much as the change in pressure. Previously confined to a limited cradle, now they lay free of limitations in this world. Well, as unlimited as a newborn could be.

Newly born, their first gasp turned into a fierce roar. With their cry came the first binding to life. Their instinct. Following this internal urge (with some well placed assistance), the pale babe crawled to their mother's side. Paws churning to make its claim within the swell of siblings. With a fight, the child found its place and began to nurse.

oh my god. oh my god. oh my god.
ancelin was no less frazzled than last year, he just handled it way better.
four babies, five if the bear was counted, which it was. six children then, healthy at ameline's side. ancelin left off counting tiny claws and little paws and listening to squeaky yawns to look over the boy again, a little smile quirking his mouth. "aurelian is real good with me," said the rex.
a last child, a strong one who promised to be pale. ancelin helped them along and then lay down to watch over each nursing babe. "what about ahniska," for the first, "ahni for short?"
so beautiful. so perfect.

a soft squeal burst from ahniska’s round belly, sharp and sudden like a hiccup of sound. it came just as her father said the name—ahniska—a name she did not know, could not know, but something in it struck like a bell inside her little chest.
"ahni."
the shorter sound danced through the den, and ahniska kicked her legs, a happy thump of tiny paws against the warm fur around her. she wiggled, bumping her nose against a sibling’s side, and chirped again, as if to say—yes.
the name belonged to her. she had already decided.