Sun Mote Copse They say that wealth is revealed in the teeth

@Finley but all welcome still :)

Nesting. 

While Colt had done a wonderful job making their den fluffy and soft, something about having children on a carpet in a den she’d dug herself made her feel a bit queasy. She knew there’d be mess and barf and who knows what else- not to mention the mess of childbirth, so she figured that all the nice furs that lined the den would be ruined, and she wasn’t having that. It put her in a tizzy. Would the den be ruined after she gave birth? In her opinion, it would.

But she was given an idea by a white birch tree that had shed a piece of its paper-like bark. It’d fallen to the ground and had collected water, making Niamh believe it would be relatively water-proof. This would make for good flooring, thought the wolf who had a somewhat unnatural flair for den decor. The birch- and the others in the area- seemed all too willing to offer up strips of bark, so she set about pulling layer after layer of paperlike bark off the trees, setting them in a pile that she would later carry back to her den. It curled at the edges, but she figured a couple nights of sleeping on it would flatten it out well enough. Not caring who saw her in the process, Niamh continued to strip long swathes of birch bark from the trees and adding it to her collection.

Fin had no doubt that some Blackthorn somewhere had already made her an Aunt before this, and she had always considered herself an Aunt to all of the Firebirds (aunt/godmom/actual mom/awesome older sister). Even so, this was different to her. This was Colt, and she was pregnant too. They would both be unleashing little hellion Blackthorns on the Wilds almost simultaneously, and Finley considered that to be something worth celebrating.

The only drawback to the whole thing was the Legs factor. Colt had forgiven her pretty readily for the whole ordeal, as Fin had known he would. And while she didn't entirely fault the girl for what she'd done to cause their marital unrest, she was a bit wary that Niamh wasn't entirely as reformed as she seemed. At the end of the day though, it was Colt's risk to take and she wasn't one to butt in on his personal affairs (not within the last couple of hours anyway). So she would behave, and she'd even play nice as she set out to help the happy couple prepare to welcome another batch of Blackthorns into the world.

Fin trotted up to her ...well, not sister-in-law, right? They hadn't gotten that all figured out yet, to her knowledge. So let's just say Fin trotted up to her brother's baby mama with the fresh rabbit pelt swinging from her jaws and her own baby belly swinging beneath her. She slowed to a stop prior to drawing attention to herself simply to observe Niamh in what was clearly some strange manifestation of the soon-to-be mother's nesting ritual. Fin had done some strange things during her own pregnancies, but tiling her den floor with the latest eco-modern home decor trend had never been one of those.

She dropped the pelt onto her paws, canting her head as she called, "Whatcha doin', Legs?"

Niamh had just wrangled free a particularly long strip of birch bark when Finley called out to her, using the nickname she’d been given some time ago- back when she had been a Blackthorn officially. She was pleased to know that Finley would still call her that, so she dropped the stripe of paper-like bark and greeted Finley with a chuff. She was a bit winded, more than she’d expected to be- but having babies crammed in below her ribcage didn’t help. 

”Heya Finley,” She said. She gestured toward the pile of birch bark on the ground, which Finley had already pointed out. ”I still hate trees after last time. These ones’re easier to rip apart.” She said with a laugh, referencing the time she’d attempted to climb a tree to steal a mouse from a hawk. A bit more seriously, though not without nerdish enthusiasm, she explained.

”I kinda figured, what where birthing is so messy...If I put this stuff down on the floor of my den, it might like...I dunno. Make it easier to clean up after? It can just be tossed or buried after. Colt’s been bringin’ me so many nice soft pelts, I’d kinda hate to wreck them with birth...Stuff.” She said. Of course, Finley had already had kids, so Niamh sought her advice. ”What d’you think? Good idea or nay?”

The explanation she was given was just as quirky as she'd anticipated. Fin lifted a single brow as she listened, only kind of trying to fight the small smirk from stretched across her lips. Legs had always been an odd one in her esteem. Of course, she could've been a completely normal wolf and Fin would've thought her odd for the simple fact that she was emphatuated with Colt. Her actual oddness compounded with this, though, to make her a real loon.

A good fit for a Blackthorn, if Colt ever made the decision to make her one again. No comment from Fin.

She looked dubiously down at the birch bark, her lips pursing thoughtfully as she considered not whether or not Niamh's plan would work, but how quickly the first-time mother would wise up on efforts like this once her labor began. Not one to sugar-coat anything, Fin looked back at the golden wolf with a grin.

"I think you're gonna have a hard time not kicking that crap all over the place once you're in labor," she said, "Bark, pelts, everything. It'll all just be in the way when you're pacing and crying and screaming and cursing Colt for a whore's son as your little bundles of joy are trying to tear you in half to make it into the world."

"Speaking of which! I brought you a pelt," Fin added brightly, using a paw to toss it over to Niamh, "I recommend keeping it off to the side until after the kids have arrived. And don't get too attached to it - they'll tear it to shred once they're a few weeks old and their little raptor teeth come in."

At first, Niamh assumed that Finley was joking. She had that look on her face, a sort of smile...But it was too wry to be dishonest. And the more she went on to explain exactly how much giving birth hurt, the more Niamh’s face dropped. The corners of her lips drooped down to where her jawline was and her eyes widened as Finley- as easy as pie- terrified the absolute shit out of Niamh who’d previously assumed that her children would simply slide out as they were supposed to.

The pallor didn’t leave her face as she glanced down at the pelt that Finley had allegedly brought for her kids...To tear apart. They’d be using those same little mouths on her teats...And all of the lovely furs and feathers and comforts in her den would be ruined. Choking back the hard, hot feeling in her throat, Niamh dumbly replied. 

”Uh. Thanks, Fin.”

Fin had a hard time not laughing at the look on Niamh's face. Had her mother never told her about child birth? Had no one? How young was she, anyway, good lord... Any guilt she ought to have felt over bursting the poor girl's bubble over the magic that was bringing new life into the world didn't find a way to touch her. Apparently someone had needed to do it, so she only felt bad that she hadn't known to rip the band aide off for her sooner. And even then, only slightly. And only for a second before it was forgotten.

"But! If you want some company while you tear trees apart, I've got nothin' going on," Fin offered, stepping forward and peering at Niamh's current target, "Even if it's a futile effort, nesting does help with the nerves. Back when I was pregnant with Lucy and the twins, I spent hours and hours trying to track down anything green that I could use in the den, which was one hell of a chore at that time, I tell ya. A swarm of locusts had come through and eaten everything--it was a mess, and there wasn't green for miles. But still, hunting for it kept my mind off of things. Otherwise I'd have probably died of the massive anxiety I had over giving brith when I was so weak from the famine."

Ahh, good times. She had been stepping around the trees as she spoke, peering curiously at the bark. She couldn't remember if Niamh had used her claws or her teeth - neither of which seemed ideal. But, oh well. Fin began to nibbled at the side of the tree, trying to find some grip so she could pull a shard off.

There was a sort of acidic taste at the back of Niamh's mouth, possibly from her stomach which had clenched at the thought of having its neighbour organs torn to bits by raptor teeth as the kids fought their way out of her. She forced the feeling aside, and Finley's amusement and casual tone did help ease her anxiety, but only by a little. Niamh was too respectful of Finley, and perhaps still a bit too naive, to catch onto the fact that Finley was possibly exaggerating, and just picking on her for fun. 

Apparently, as Finley went back into detail about kids that Niamh wasn't sure she'd ever met (wait, how many kids did Finley have now? What twins was she talking about, and who was Lucy?), not all years were easy for giving birth. The thought of a locust outbreak horrified Niamh. She didn't like bugs much, and especially didn't like the idea that insects could swarm and eat all the greenery in the area- which would then have an impact on prey. And, of course, Finley brought death during childbirth back up, nd Niamh gulped. She felt queasy. Not phased one bit by the story of her own near demise, Finley began stripping bark off a birch tree. 

She could feel pressure in her chest, and dipped her head down, taking in large gulps of air as quietly as she possibly could. She flattened her ears against her head, and clenched her jaw, before she shook her head. "I don' wanna die, Finley," She said, nausea causing her eyesight to blur slightly. She was having a minor anxiety attack, and continued to focus on her breathing, trying to ignore the possibility that this anxiety attack was actually the end of her.

After a few false starts, Fin had just started pulling away a decently wide strip of bark when she heard Niamh's shakey little voice. She paused and peered over at the woman, wondering if she'd swallowed a bug. Only then did she notice the parts of her expression that suggested she wasn't just shocked--she was distraught. Ah, geez.

"Who said anything about dying?" Fin asked stupidly as she abandoned the tree for her sister-in-law-like-relation, "You're not going to die. You're whole, you're healthy, and you have an army of Blackthorns to see you through this. Back during the famine, I thought I was going to starve to death before I even got a chance to get those kids out of me. The only reason I didn't is because I wouldn't. I had to get Elwood his kids. And once I did, I had to stay alive to take care of them because Elwood would've been real mad at me for leaving him alone with 'em."

She didn't know if any of that would actually help Niamh. She'd never been great at offering comfort, especially when she was completely convinced that this fear and anxiety was hormone-driven. Though, she supposed it might not be entirely. This could just be new mom stuff. Fin was equally ill-equipped to comfort new mom stuff, but it did help her find a bit more sympathy.

Niamh had hoped to be coddled a bit by Finley- she'd hoped that Finley would turn then, soften and reassure her, maybe give her a hug or something along those lines. Clearly, being pregnant was making her a bit delusional as well, as Finley wasn't the sort of wolf to baby another adult. While she'd wanted to be petted and told that everything was going to be OK, Finley's casual means of explaining that logistically, nothing really should go wrong was enough to cheer her up a bit. Finley was a stubborn sort of wolf, and had managed to deliver her previous litter, it seemed, using sheer will. And here was Niamh, in a well-fed pack with a mate who was perfectly capable of taking care of her and feeding her- and who was at least a decade or two younger than Finley and in perfect health. She tried to tell herself that if a near-starving, elderly lady could push out a couple kids, she could too. 

But she didn't say that. Instead, she stayed where she was, and flattened her ears. She averted her gaze and stared, hard, off into the distance for a moment to try and keep the tears at bay. She breathed in a low, long breath and exhaled it quietly after a moment, before she was able to control her gushing emotions enough and return her gaze- much softer and appreciative now- back to Finley. 

"You're the strongest wolf I've ever met, y'know that?" She asked, and shrugged one shoulder. "I don't think I'm made anything like you. I try to be all tough and shit, picking fights with cougars and bears and stuff...But at the end of the day, here I am whimpering about being scared I'll die giving birth." She said quietly.

Fin was pretty sure Niamh was about to lose it. She watched her sister-ish-thing go through her reaction, paying close attention to how she moved and her expressions shifted for a sign as to which way the explosion was about to go. Would it be crying? Would it be raging? Was she about to fall asleep? Pregnant ladies were entirely unpredictable, which actually made them somewhat predictable because you could predict that at any second, they could go haywire. It worked out in Fin's mind, and if anyone understood crazy, it was Finley Blackthorn.

Which is all to say that Fin was totally blind-sided by what Niamh said next. She quirked a brow dramatically at the confession, immediately wondering how in the world the blonde had gotten there. She gave up on trying to figure that out quickly enough, though. After all, she was getting complimented. She liked compliments, even if she didn't actually know how to deal with them in an honest, genuine way. Joking it off was more comfortable, so that's the way it went. But in an accidentally philisophical, helpful kind of way. Maybe. I don't know, Fin went rogue on me a little.

"Well, here's a pro-tip for you--You can't be strong without being weak," she answered with a little shrug, "If you never fall down, you can't get back up, and it's the getting back up that makes you stronger than you could've been had you never fallen down in the first place. And I have just been lucky enough to fall down a lot. I mean, have you seen my face?" Fin did something then that she rarely ever did and turned to actually show the scarred half of her face instead of what she usually did, which was keep it turned away.

"Smacked in the face by a porcupine and knocked down a mountain when I was being a little bitch and trying to run out on Elwood and Eljay not long after we had him and I was utterly terrified of being a mom," she explained with a grimace at the memory--one I can't remember if she's ever told anyone..., "And without it, I would never have gotten my head put back on straight and gone home to my family where I belonged. I have never been more grateful to fall off a cliff in my life."

She wasn't sure she could imagine Finley being weak. Even if she was starving, ill and weak, she could still only ever imagine Finley with her iron-will and sharp wit, ready to either shrug and welcome death without sobbing or being scared, or to fight it off without hardly raising a finger. Her ears turned back as Finley turned her face, and Niamh first thought she ought to look away. Even when approached from that side, Finley had never given Niamh more than a brief glance at that side of her face, and she'd seen only enough to know that Finley's face was terribly scarred, and that she did not care of have others see it. After a moment, though, she slowly lifted her gaze, to see the scars that marred the side of her face. Niamh had thought that her own scars were pretty badass- but Finley had clearly been through much more than one incident, to collect those scars. 

Niamh couldn't help but expell a smal breath of air when Finley detailed what had happened. Smacked in the face by a porcupine? She must've been young and stupid, then...Though it was something Niamh herself had done, though it hadn't left much for marks on her. She was stunned to hear that Finley had tried to ditch Elwood and Eljay, but chose not to comment. Finley was telling her things she didn't figure that she told to many wolves, so she'd keep her comments to herself- and she'd have to keep these stories to herself too. That much she could do, for such a kind gesture. 

Niamh offered a small, somewhat trembling smile. "I....I bet," She agreed. "I mean...You know what I mean. I think...You ended up with something pretty great." Of course, she wanted very much to gush about how much she absolutely ADORED Elwood, but such things simply went without needing to be articulated. Who didn't love Elwood? "An' you're gonna have more awesomeness soon...When're...When're you due?" She asked, hoping that she might be able to find some sort of reference for herself, based on Finley's experience.

Fin turned away as soon as she was certain Niamh had gotten a look. In spite of her desire to prove a point, it hadn't taken very long for her old vanity to reclaim her and make her feel uncomfortable presenting her scars like that. She eyed Niamh as she responded to the story, wondering if she'd have something to say about how Fin had ditched her family. She knew in her head that Niamh's judgment shouldn't matter. Elwood knew what had happened and he had forgiven her. That was all that really mattered. But still.

She felt relief sink in when all Niamh had to say was a comment that Fin wholeheartedly agreed with. She smiled and gave a small nod, also thinking about how ridiculously amazing her mate was. I mean, damn. Have you checked him out lately? He was getting that touch-of-gray, older man look about him and it was totally working for him. And for her. I mean, obviously. She wasn't knocked up for nothing.

"Couple of weeks more, I think," Fin answered, "Seems impossible that it's even possible they could grow more in there, but they sure will." She glanced at the tree she'd been picking at briefly before looking at her sister-in-law again. "You wanna harvest more bark?" she asked without judgment. She might not get the whole reasoning behind the bark still, but that didn't particularly matter. If it would help her brother's baby mama chill out, then she could handle a round of bark picking.

Niamh frowned at the thought of how much longer it would take for her to have her kids. If Finley had a few weeks left, then Niamh would have over a month left, or so she figured. She was impatient, and tired of feeling bloated, tired and cranky, but she'd have to put up with it. And she would have to buck up a bit and toughen up, so that Finley didn't think she was a pouty, whining, complaining little baby, afraid of having children which was a completely natural thing. She nodded in response, then, to learning Finley's due date, and what it might mean for her. It meant a lot more time, and a lot more waiting. 

When she mentioned the bark, Niamh gritted her teeth. "I dunno. I think this'll prolly be enough for now. Wanna help me take it back an' set it up? That way you'll get to see Colt's reaction," She said, with a laugh. Niamh's taste for interior decorating- with feathers, especially- had caused a bit of a raised brow or an eye roll or two from Colt in the past, but he seemed not only to accept it, but embrace it. This, however, was something completely new.

gonna fade this one out for us! <3

Fin was perfectly okay with it when Niamh declared she was well enough stocked in bark. Trying to strip it from the tree had been aggravating during the short time she'd spent doing it. She didn't really want to do it more. She did, however, want to go set it up with her. Mostly because she wanted to get a look at Colt's face when he saw what his baby mama had done to their home.

"Totally, let's really wow him," Fin said, stepping forward to help her gather up the bark she'd collected. She waited then for Niamh to lead the way so they could get to work. She'd hate for her dearest brother to get a glimpse of what they were up to before the project was done, after all.