Whitefish River It's been one week

This had been one hell of a week. The memories had come flooding back to him, one by one, an impactful memory rising to him each day. Whether this was a dream or hell or heaven or reincarnation he didn't know. But he knew he'd been a wolf before. A man with a position and a family and a pack and a life. Now he was no more than a little potato that wriggled around and fought with her siblings. Now he was a girl, a daughter, someone's daughter. They would look upon him just like he had looked upon his daughters throughout his life.

There was something distinctly familiar about her mother's scent. The girl couldn't quite place it, but she had known this woman, some place, somewhere. Perhaps in the life that she had come from. Often she would dream when she slept and the dreams were complex and detailed. They were always of the same wolf, of her former self, of the white-pelted man with the freckles. In some of the dreams he had a broken eye and torn skin, but in many of them he was young and not yet battered by time.

After awaking from another of her dreams the girl started to cry loudly. Mewl. Cry. SCREAM at the top of her tiny lungs for some attention.

@Speedy / Acheron @Syrma @Castor

Speedy had been napping, curled around her four children as they slept, her own dreams turbulent and full of lost and injured pups that she couldn't save no matter how hard she tried. The screaming and crying from her daughter woke her, and, heart pounding, she whipped her head around to see what was going on. From what she could tell, no one was in the den except for her and the pups, and she looked at her disgruntled daughter with confusion before lowering her head to nuzzle her. It's okay, she said softly. I'm here. Speedy licked and nuzzled the still tiny pup, wondering what could have upset her so much. She wondered if they could pick up on her anxiety and fear; she tried really hard not to let it touch them, but she was their mother, and she would always worry.

Since she was naturally comfiest closest to Spica, when her sister cried out, any commotion that came with that complaining usually had her not far behind. This time, she roused feeling rudely interrupted. In her dreams, she chased a vastness--something dark, something deep. There were no thoughts to make it more than that, like endless or forever, but the contrast to any waking awareness that began and ended with this little nub of a body always gave her a start.

So Syrma's cries started small and more like little grunts before she finally lifted her head up enough to project the voice she was working pretty hard on. Nothing was really wrong. She was warm and not that hungry. She was just awake and hadn't been a minute ago, which was just not what she wanted to do right now at all.

It wasn't long until her mother rushed in to care for her. The girl's cries died out slowly, one by one, and she grunted a few times to make sure they all knew she was still a little disgruntled. The last remnants of the dreams escaped her, she was no longer a grown wolf running but she was here again, this. There was something both extremely uncomfortable about this, here, as well as something very comfortable. Not in control over herself, and yet warm and fed and cared for.

Spica pressed herself against her look-a-like and lifted her nose towards her mother, blindly reaching out.

Before she was able to quiet one daughter's cries, her twin woke, crying out as well. When Spica was sufficiently soothed and mostly quieted, Speedy turned to Syrma, gently licking and nuzzling her, as well. So far, the two boys were still fast asleep, limbs twitching periodically in response to whatever little puppy dreams they were having. 

Her attention fell back on the twins, and she reached down to nuzzle Spica's little outstretched nose, gladly offering whatever affection they wanted, if that was what she wanted. They obviously couldn't tell her at this point, so she did her best to interpret their cries and grunts. Luckily, most of their complaints could be resolved with food or affection, something she was sure she would look back and miss when their problems undoubtedly became more complicated.

Her mother was right there with her soothing touch and nuzzles, quick to tend when she fussed. Syrma's complaining still rose in volume until she couldn't fight against the warmth anymore, and until there wasn't enough motivation behind her whining to keep her going for more. She slowly started to settle and ease her way into a vaguely more comfortable awareness; as the seconds passed, she was able to find a slightly better acceptance to being awake, too.

Still, it was.. something, and this entire scheme of existing was tiresome. She had no concept of what might actually await her, and sleep did not readily come back for her either like she would have liked. Syrma put her head back down anyway, eventually, and only grunted a few more times--and it was with a very half-hearted effort.

Probably soon, she could doze off, but for now she just sat there quietly like a fuzzy little lump, curled neatly into her place among the litter.

It took a little while before her request for attention was met and noses were touched. A content grunt escaped the pup's throat at her mother's attention. After a few seconds of this touch, Spica leaned down again, her head heavy and tired, and she nosed her twin's side and then wriggled herself in place better, wedged comfortably between twin and mother.

To her relief, her affection and attention eventually soothed and quieted both girls. It was hard to know what the right thing to do was; she had never been a mother before, and it wasn't like she had anyone to ask about it. She had just gone on instinct so far, and luckily, it seemed to work most of the time. She knew she wouldn't always be able to fix things so easily, but she was glad that today her efforts seemed to make her pups feel content. 

When her daughters both seemed on the verge of sleep, Speedy curled around them, surrounding them with her warmth so that they could sleep soundly. She would eventually sleep, as well, at least for a little bit.