Please Allow @Ragnar, EIRÍKR II , and @Gunnar to post first.
Thistle was outside for her mid morning nap as she always was when she suddenly woke up on a pant. She began to pace back and forth and whine. The pups were coming and she was scared stiff. Lifting her nose to the sky she howled for Ragnar letting him know that it was time. He was never very far anymore. Shifting her weight she paced back and forth back and forth panting as the pains rippled up one side and down the other of her abdomen and they were painful, but she bit hard down on the inside of her cheek tasting the metallic taste of blood as it flowed down her throat, she would not scream. Her son's had to be strong and unafraid. Finally with a swift movement for one so large she slid down into her den and again took up her pacing, but all too soon a wave of pain hit her and she lay down.
She gripped hard at the earth, hard as she could and as the ripples began instinct took over and she pushed when she needed too and the first pup came. She groaned after he was born at the small measure of relief, and she contorted her body around to lick at the sac that covered his fur a pretty boy he was. As she nipped the umbilical cord, and pushed him closer to her belly for warmth she studied him. She knew it would be a little while before the next one came. He was a large smoky black boy with sandy toes and silver markings beneath his eyes. She smiled to herself at his sweetness.
As time passed she tried not to move to bother the little one suckling there. All too soon though in 40 minutes time the second pup began his descent. She again kept her whines to herself and rather tore up the earth, but soon enough he was born. Smaller than his brother but still large. She again nipped at the sac and got it off of her little brown boy with the sandy colored legs and mask. Biting the umbilical cord and pushing him as well towards her teats. She watched as they already began to tumble over each vying for the mother's milk that would keep them alive.
She thought perhaps she was done, but it was not to be so, not that she would complain, but all too soon the pains seized her again and with a silent sigh she pushed the final puppy into the world. A silver kissed little viking maid. Thistle sighed in relief as she cleaned the little girl up and disposed of the umbilical cord and pushed the maiden to her teats. She smiled down at her three little ones as they shuffled and snuffed searching without sight or sound for mothers milk.
The world was dark but warm and while had the distinct feelings of being extremely claustrophobic if the little indefinable blob had any idea what the word meant. As it was he kept trying to stretch and kept kicking something though if it was Thistle or one of the other little blobs in her womb there was no way for the shadowed blob to know. He knew the vibrations of his mother’s voice well and tried to respond back though his responses were limited, ten times more limited stuck in her womb. There was another vibration he felt too, sometimes. Richer and deeper than the vibrations of his mother’s. Again, to no avail the swimming blob tried to respond to let them know he was in there, stuck with what felt like many other blobs — just in case they didn’t know he was alive in there.
It had started out as just an ordinary timeless existence. It would not end as an ordinary ‘day’ though such concepts; as much as well everything was largely unknown to the blob. His universe began to shake and shattered as he became even more claustrophobic. In a matter of what was probably a minute at most (which seemed like forever) he had ceased to be a meaningless blob. He became a baby. The sac that had been with him since his conception broke and the warmth was gone and it’s place was a wrongness and cold that made the newborn’s body quake with shivers until something smoothed over his body. It was warm and ceased the cry that had been about to spill from his lips.
And then something was nudging him towards something soft beneath his little squirming body and headfirst into something soft and very warm. For a second the unnamed boy cuddled against it until his stomach rumbled and on the most basic of instinct, his sense of smell still weak able to smell the luring scent of Thistle’s milk and he squirmed to the side and claiming what was the best teat (the joys of being born first) began to suckle, the warm milk sliding down his throat and into his belly. He was interrupted twice twice and gradually the heat of two other blobs was felt around him but for the moment he ignored them other than to butt his head against them to keep them away from his feeding spot before he resumed suckling, contended.
Today today felt different as it had been for a few days now, though the boy didn't know what days were or any grasp of time. But today his world felt tighter and he felt confined and constricted though he didn't know that either. He was warm and comfortable and when one of the constrictions got really bad he then had more room.
All too soon he felt another constriction and then he was feeling tight pressure and he wanted to cry out but he didn't and all too soon he was somewhere that was wet and cold and new and he didn't know it or like it. He tried to voice his displeasure until a soothing feeling came over him and he felt warm again and he was nudged by something bigger towards something soft and smelled sweet though he would not be able to put that word to the smell for a while. He began to push and prod at the other two beings near him fighting for that sweet smell and soon enough he felt the precious goodness sliding down his throat and it tasted good and filled his tummy and then he pushed further into the softness and for a moment he was not conscious of anything but sleep.
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Ragnar knew, without knowing how he actually knew — it was just a feeling in his bones — that this day would be the day his sons would be born into the world. It for this reason that he was loathe to part from Thistle despite that the past couple of days parting had been hard because she was close to giving birth. It could have been hours, minutes, seconds at any given time; but there were duties that needed his attention, borders that needed to be patrolled and it was with that thought in his mind that he had limped away from the den he shared with his wife.
As it was the Viking had only been part way into his patrol, his normal brisk pace hindered by the awkward limp in which he moved so not to rip open his healing wounds. Ragnar was not the type of man that believed in ‘bedrest’. He chose to carry on because that was all he knew how to do. He did not know how to bow down to weakness, illness, injury. He did not know how to bow period. His insubordination was a little bit more warranted now, given his ascension to leadership but in many ways it still lingered. He had just paused to stretch, stretch his healing hip and leg, and to relieve himself, leg lifting to urinate on a tree trunk when Thistle’s howl cut through the mid-morning air like a sharp knife aimed right at him. A low string of sounds left the Viking’s lips — not really words (and if they were they were entirely unintelligible) — as he finished urinating, kicked back some clumps of grass and lunged towards the den ignoring his healing leg by pushing himself harder than he had in days. He was nearly healed anyway and if the scabs tore off it would simply mean three more scars to add to his collection.
They were coming. His sons were coming into the world and he wasn’t there. This thought propelled the mass of muscle to move faster, adding fuel to the fire that already pushed him forward. He slowed upon the approach, scenting them. The children. Childbirth was a unique scent and one that he recognized even when Dagmar’s body had forced her to give birth to the stillborns too early. It was the same smell and for a moment he lingered at the mouth of the den, hearing Thistle’s heavy and pained pants, ears straining to hear some kind of sound that let him know the small babes she had given birth to already were alive; Ragnar heard no cries. A deep, dark fear that made his blood feel like it had turned to ice in his veins, like every organ had froze with his dread. Black, leathery nostrils flared, the strong column of his throat working furiously as he tried to grasp a hold of his suddenly rampant and fierce emotions. Not again. It seemed a silly thing to fear. He was a big man, powerful, yet for all his power if his children were stillborn there was nothing he could do to give them life.
For a moment he allowed his trepidation to paralyze him, hold him captive in it’s clutching and crushing claw until he swallowed it, for Thistle’s sake the most, and slid into the den, eyes adjusting to it’s dimness. The Viking stayed close to the wall away from her, not sure if she would lash out at him in pain, wanting to glimpse at her stomach, wanting too but suffering from the realization that he also didn’t want to. There were deep marks in the earth where her claws had gouged into it and finally he braved a glimpse to see two small little fuzz balls curled close to her, each suckling — it was now that her pants had subsided that he could hear them suckling from her swollen teats — and relief nearly crippled him as he slid to his stomach staring at them — one who seemed to be coated in a smoky black (he was not facing Ragnar so he couldn’t see his markings), the other looked like Thistle.
Ragnar had just drawn nearer to Thistle, to brush his muzzle against hers and offer her a few licks when a small, wet little ‘plop’ noise was heard and he recoiled back as she drew the sac closer leaving a wide birth of soiled and damp earth and began to clear the small child as if she had done it a thousand times and was a pro at it. By this point, Ragnar sort of figured she was. Ragnar didn’t even get a good glimpse before he murmured, without really thinking,
He nudged his muzzle against Thistle’s, peppering a trail of kisses along her jaw.
Julooke had heard Thistle's call for her mate. The puppies were coming! She ignored the fact that there probably wasn't anything she could do if anything went wrong, besides run for help, and made her way to the den. She kept a respectful distance, but made sure she was visible to whoever might come by. Ragnar's scent was strong, so he must have already been here. It was a short while before his large frame appeared.
She hunkered down in respect, hoping he wouldn't be mad at her for coming. Her tail was wagging, and she smiled when she saw the grin upon his face. He threw his head back, howling the great news, and she couldn't help but join in, praising the new Mom and Dad. When the song was over, she slipped away into the bushes to leave the new Dad to guard his new family.
Not for her, of course. She had followed Ragnar's tracks after finishing her part of the border patrol and it didn't take long for her to smell the unmistakable scent of blood and childbirth, then the howl resonated through the forest, announcing the news. While approaching the den, she slowed her steps and eventually came to a halt few feet away from it. She spotted Ragnar, lying at the den's mouth, looking happy and proud, also Julooke, who was excited. Pump regarded her with a brief nod and then casted a questioning glance at Ragnar, silently asking, if everything was alright.
The youngest of the pups she lays next to her mum taking in the scent and the warmth of her tongue. She was unable to see and the words she heard were so very muffled, she whined as she was moved into some warm soft field.
It smelled of the thing she wanted to be near, it smelled of mum and milk, she kicked her paws into another soft body this one didn't smell like mum so it was of no use to her she shoved at the competition and whined for more attention. She wanted food but she also wanted this other thing away she wanted mum to herself.
But now she was hungry this was a strange sensation, and this 'other thing' still wasn't helping her with a few more whines she rolled onto it and shoved a paw across it's face, Little did she know this was her brother Tveir as she found his folded ear and tried to suck upon it, getting frustrated when food did not come. Her angered squeaks would fill the air.
who crushes the world beneath her feet
Thistle smiled at him inbetween births and nodded yes two sons. only she froze between to give birth to their daughter.She was exhausted but she returned the nuzzle and licks to her husband thank you Ragnar and the boys will be unafraid I didn't cry out. she was unsure if she had ever shared that small superstition of her own wth him if not she'd explain. she watched as he left smiled as she heard his howl and julookes and then with a happy sigh she closed her eyes and met dreamland almost immediately.