Bearclaw Valley distant stars come in black or red.

BABIES! welcome to the world @Avicus and @Aventus - i have left the agency of how you are born up to you - feel free to powerplay astara however you see fit, i will roll with whatever. <3

the day grew dim and the wind picked up speed outside astara's shallow den. occasionally there came from the creeping dusk the sound of a lone call, yet eventually night swept all under its navy net and all grew quiet.

astara could not find comfort in those receding hours. as the stars brightened and the sky deepened she found her restlessness give way to pain. then, instinct overruled her petty mortal whims, and she was put to the insurmountable task of labor.

astara had been holed up under tumbleview's stony crypt for days, but it would be hours yet before the nightshade re-emerged from the den.

Aventus arrived earthside with no fuss at all, although getting stuck a few times in the birth canal might later turn to an accusation of rebellion on his part. He tumbled to the ground in a heap and (we assume) was coaxed to breathe by a mother who may or may not have already loathed him. Either way, we must all assume he wasn't left to die if we are to continue.

If Astara was a hateful beast toward her brood, then maybe Aventus, who was oddly quiet and compliant for a newborn, might change her mind. He gasped in a breath as all newborns do, but issued no cry. He merely began gaping his mouth like a fish, driven by instinct to suckle while he blindly waggled his wobbly little head in search the boob.

the miracle of life may be momentous and monumental for those old enough to comprehend it. for little Avicus, nothing much changes.

sure, the world becomes colder and wider once the sac is broken. and sure, she finds herself crying out into alien air. once she is nestled into the safety of her mother's breast, though, and she takes the proferred teat, the familiar dark, warm comfort returns. it is the womb, still, though dryer, different.

as long as she remains by Astara's side, she might as well yet be unborn.

in coming days, she has much to learn. a brother, close by; a father, in the greater universe beyond the den. an entire pack waiting with bated breath for arrival of the next generation. for now, Avicus fills her diminuitive belly to the bursting point and drifts off, burping sweet milk-breath on the edge of slumber.

perfect!! let me know if the assumptions i made are okay

under a sky dappled with distant stars, astara labored.

her teeth set on edge as rippling pain overcame her -- stayed only by the forbidding sense of instinct. with gasps and heaves, astara whelped the first of her brood: a dark child round as a riverstone, pelt flawlessly gleaming between torn sheaths of membrane. something compelled her to clean him, stimulate him, and press her to his elbow as the contractions returned.

aventus' birth had been a struggle; she had no name or words for the situational complexity that had been his arrival, but she recognized her daughter's arrival was far smoother. louder, too -- the girl's wails arced between hanging root-tendrils, trickling out of the moss-stone den and into the cold night air. astara cleaned her wordlessly, unaware that the darkness of her pelt would soon lighten to a ruddiness reminiscent of a forbidden memory she had long buried..

for a moment astara stared at the two of them in disbelief as they nursed aside her. a dark part of her nature urged her to blight out their existence then -- they would get in the way of her love of merrick -- they would demand his attention, his love -- and he would kill them, surely.

overwhelmed then, and properly exhausted by the gauntlet that was pressing life from one's womb, all of astara's whims of infant-murder were blotted out as a heavy sleep blanketed her consciousness. only once did she stir, a hind leg instinctively and reflexively kicking out as a tooth clamped too hard upon her nipples -- otherwise, the blackbird was still and overcome with slumber.

but merrick did not sleep.
compelled to remain on guard through the remainder of the darkened hours, the boy's vigil broke as the voice of his baby daughter floated into the nightfall air.
merrick came alive; his teeth glinted in the dim light cut by tree-cast shadow.
no one would stop the new young father from approaching the den. it was his right, she was his right, ursus was his right.
tongue lapped at dry lips; single eye burned like the last flame upon an altar. 
he thrust himself inside the den, snorting at the thick scent of blood and birth and milk that clung to the inside of his nostrils at once.
there, the grubs. there, a pair of them, snuffling and mewling at the side of his raven, and she gone from him into exhaustion. saliva dripped down upon the babes.
these were the beings that had stolen her? to think, all had begun so weakly. 
she reeked of motherhood.
merrick seized the infant @Aventus and began to lift him from the nest.

For a few precious minutes, there was silent tranquility in the den. Aventus felt the gentle jostling of another at his side, but lacked the attention span to acknowledge her in any fashion. Astara slipped off to sleep, leaving both cubs to nurse in peace.

Peace could never last in the den of monsters that was Ursus.

Aventus felt first the thick patter of drool hitting his back, which was itself unpleasant, but not enough to elicit more than a grunt. He went right on nursing up until Merrick's unkind teeth seized him around the middle. Astara's tit popped right out of his mouth as he gaped his muzzle and arched his back with the surprising strength of a newborn, but he was caged and lifted from the floor.

Only then did Aventus utter a quiet, warbling cry, as if he sensed the malice behind that rancid maw.

Childbirth reeked of blood. Evien had been around Leila's den, not too close, but certainly close enough to hear if he needed to help. That was his job, after all - the safety of all in the pack. It was his job. 

The boy watched from where he was dozing beneath a tree, a few herbs in a pile next to him, should they be needed. Merrick was a shadow entering the den, quiet and deliberate, and Evien frowned, head raising. This was a family matter, he tried to convince himself, and he shouldn't get involved, but...

With a sigh, the healer got to his feet and limped after the leader, green eyes watching as, barely lit from the moonlight, Merrick lifted one of the children. That was peculiar, and Evien felt a cold chill wash down his spine. 

"Merrick," he whispered quietly, unsure of what to say. "What..." A falter in his voice, before he caught himself. "What are you doing?"

the calm is shattered all too soon.

Avicus is jostled awake and then suddenly feels bereft on one side—the warm small thing that had been there is gone, replaced by empty air. she squeals, as the atmosphere within the den has dramatically shifted. 

she cannot hear or see the goings-on, but the sensation of chaos will be burned into her from this moment. 

quite fitting, given her parentage.

but it was her right, too -- to motherhood, to offspring. somewhere in that distant realm of slumber dissonance began to fray the edges of her dreams.

a warbling cry woke her. astara's indigo eyes flew open and beheld the bent shape of her bear, a specter with a stirring babe lodged in his mouth.

a primordial urge older than the sky rise within her breast. she found the fur along her hackles rising as she met merrick head on, boring into his gaze with a lift of her lips -- disregarding the healer as he came questioningly upon the scene.

it was just her and him -- blackbird and blackbear -- as it should have been. as it would have been, if he had not sown seed within her fields. if he had not collected his trinkets and admirers around him while his blackbird was jostled to the side...

the nightshade had not forgotten merrick's words those months past -- now he was come to collect his due. if she reeked of motherhood, he was the monster that had instilled such changes within her. he reeked of fatherhood -- of sowing rifts and misery. of challenge, strife, and unaccountability.

not for the first time did the blackbird stare her bear down, her lips creased in a silent snarl full of command. she did not wish to strike him, but strike him true she would if he gave her no other choice. they were hers -- maybe not to love or adore -- but hers all the same.

Small but I've not much time. Feel free to skip around

The scent of birth was overwhelming- blood, milk, afterbirth, children... She followed it instinctively like she had time and time before be it to help rear the children or to dispose of them. 

When she came along she stopped just behind Evian whom questioned his leader's actions. Within the den Rosina could hear the mother snarl, the children's cries causing her to lick her mug, Merrick raising the pup into the air. Her tail waved eagerly.

the cheep that emerged from the bargaining room of merrick's teeth did nothing but fill him with annoyance. he wanted to —
fuck the entire hippocratic oath 
and its ability to summon evien from wherever he was, a portal to lawful good doctoring. a snort of hot air scoured the madman's son from somewhere within his chest. 
then a flit of bone-pale; she came upon a white horse, this budding apocalypse unfolding under a birth. merrick unfurled in tension. an ally. a witch. come along, hansel. father made a deal.
his blackbird stirred and her new malevolence toward him startled the boy. he started, involuntary clench of his jaw controlled at the last second. such a promise of the hatred to come, the bitterness his rook had recorded; all her loyalty, in his estimation, tipped now to these shrieking little maggots.
was this how indra had felt, giving birth to one live breathing unnatural thing? death had come first. merrick swallowed the spittle that now soaked aventus; the child tasted of a moment his father had not been meant to see.
her voice bore the tones of a corpse half-buried.
merrick's face twisted.
could he be death?
always a decision to be weighed, and merrick the heaviest heart upon that scale by far. the cyclops-stare glimmered with rage, a shearing malice of his own; he lifted aventus from the den and jerked aside to drop the boy upon the ground with a low sweep of his muzzle, spilling his spawn roughly into the springnight air.
expecting her attack and being too near to dissuade or dart aside, the would-be reaper only sounded back a grimtraced threat, a rattler's ticking tail. the choice of blood was not his to make. but if the traitorous nightshade flower in her childbed wanted the little goblin, she would have to claim him herself.
an accord reached on the last humiliation of merrick must be punished.

Cameo for Galena as she watches from a distance!

---

Galena would not stray far from the nest as Astara labored on, patrolling the surrounding area dutifully. The crisp springtime night was calm, bright stars twinkling expectantly besides mother moon as they watched the brood delivered into the world. The supplicant circled back, noticing the Bruin-tooth had ceased her painful sounds. Had the children been born? Galena's ears perked up as she waited in the shadow and spied Merrick, Evien, and Rosina (though she did not know her name)... but something was wrong. Very wrong. A taught wire of malevolence cut the tense air. What was happening?

---

She liked children — preferably when they were not hers. She hadn't expected to be responsible for pups when she joined this pack, but it was fine by her. She could see wolves gathering in the distance where the scent of childbirth was wafting from. As she approached, a familiar shape formed from the moonshadows. Galena. She trotted towards the storm gray female, her tail wagging. Are the bairns h-, whatever words had began to stream out disappeared What in the 'ell...? She glanced at Galena, wondering if she knew even a bit of what was happening. This wasn't how births usually worked out.

A rush of hot, rancid breath drowned Aventus' next churning cry, which was amplified when Merrick's teeth tensed against his tiny body. Controlled, but just barely. Red alarm bells were ringing inside his head, screaming danger! danger! and he was powerless to do anything but whimper about it.

Then he was tossed aside, a ragdoll crumpling to the dew-laden ground as Merrick and Astara faced off and a crowd gathered. Fortunate that newborns were so pliable. Aventus would suffer no lasting physical damage if his life wasn't snuffed out then and there by his sire. Until then, cold seeped from the ground into his tiny, still-damp body. At least he was on solid ground.

The instinctual sirens in his brain still rang, but the crying stopped.

He'd kept his distance; it was only necessary. He did not smell the blood nor birthing fluids but only heard the cries. Each one panged him, yet brought him joy. His masters were bringing new life — their life — into the world. 

When the racket ceased, Fraser dared to come closer. He saw a crowd began to gather near the den. A commotion, a flurry of movement — Merrick, flinging his child into the expanse of the outside world — murmured questions, exclamations, growls — madness —

No! he cried out, racing onto the scene. His jaws were open in a panic, hoping to seize the child and bring it back to the blackbird's breast.

Oh, shit.

Evien bristled at the commotion and hurried forward as quickly as he could, but Fraser beat him to the child that had been tossed aside. The medic got between the dog and the leaders, blocking him with his body so that he couldn't bring the pup back in there. He had no idea what was going to happen, or how many pups there were, or if they'd even survive, but he knew that he couldn't put that pup back where there were two adults about to fight. 

"Not yet. Keep it warm, over there," he ordered the canine, lingering near the entrance of the den. He didn't want to outright confront Merrick yet, but he didn't want to be too far off if he was needed.

skipping avicus with permission <3

there was an audience around them -- galena, rosina, orson, evien, fraser -- but astara only had eyes for her bear.

her terrible, proud, beautiful bear.

he flung their child to the side -- reflected in that hellish orange of his eye was a burning enmity astara had never withstood before. her fur rippled on end, her skin feeling as if blanched in bracing cold.

she could not withstand the fireshow of merrick's singular burning eye. astara lunged, a terrific snarl sounding like a bullet-clap in that small rock-strewn cairn.

together, they had made something tangible and finite -- and he would unsow it all. could he not see past his piggish insecurity? could he not see that his only woman had borne him two lasting, eternal tributes to his spirit-clave?

astara's stomach sunk as she flew to him, fangs bared to drive him out. he had instilled in her the most volatile of pain by sowing her with his seed -- and now, he wished to undo it all a day too late.

the world blurred rapidly around merrick as his lover's teeth broke six places the skin upon his hapless, hateful countenance. her jaws closed around the socket where his last eye rolled; it watered from the spray of her hot breath and merrick, oh foolish, indolent, malicious prince; the boy cried out in an agony, a spray of scarlet droplets splattering as if it were a terrible rain upon her cheek and his chest, the ground, 
the small body that huddled upon the nightbound earth;
merrick stepped back, mercifully missing the boy by a step
the bile of hatred comingled in his own mouth with the rot of birth. he ripped away from astara, carving deep lines in the flesh. crimson blinded his vision, and the roar in his ears could surely belong only to him.
so dripping, merrick felt the suffusion of his wrath's greatest peak. he had forgotten about aventus; he burned now for the gasp of his nightbird —
and then a muzzle was seeking to lift the unwanted infant: doggish, wiry, unwolf, unwolf, unwolf. in the madman snapped the synaptic response of his kith; logical mind bore enmity but instinct choked off all consciousness; merrick rounded upon fraser with a spray of frothing sputum that demanded in one moment that the child be relinquished. the doctor was near.
merrick's shoulders bristled with a thousand autumnal spikes, muted ivory glinting in the moonlight. 
"evien," he hissed snakelike into the reek of new blood, the sickly sweet edge of raw life; garbled; "take the fucking kid."
the brunt of his insidious hate cast like a great eye toward the poor loyal dog, merrick obeyed the edict of his kind and lunged forward to mete out a killing.

It happens to quickly: the angered growl within the den of the dark enchantress. Their burnished King tossing the wet pup to the earth. Fraser, the wretched dog rushing forward to sweep in and save the day. Evian demands to keep the pup back, safe and away, warm. 

Rosina urges forward, her smile ever flawless, a coo on her lips. Lay the child here, with me. She settles to the earth, her tail patting the ground like a hand may pat a seat next to her to join her. I can help keep him warm. I'm a den mother, after all. And no sense of falsity would be found for none their was. She had truly played the role of den mother time and time again. 

But it went to no avail. The Enchantress spoke without words, her single snarl like a crack of lightning that stilled Rosina in her placement on the ground, to wretch away her attention from the pup and to the onsaught of Merrick's punishment for his deed. The fucking kid would be taken by the ugly little doctor Jekyll and let live another day. Bleeding, screaming of rage, Merrick seeks out unwarranted revenge upon the dog instead.

Rosina doesnt bat an eye to this. Does not show mercy for the dog, does not care. She only watches now as her promised prize is whisked away from her grasp.

Unbidden shivers wracked the silent neonate, drowning out all other sensations and most other emotions. At his tender age, he knew only contentment, discontentment and reverent fear. It was the latter that consumed him as he curled into a tight, fetal ball in the grass, for although he had not the sight nor the hearing nor the sensibility to realize what as going on around him, he knew danger. Smell and sixth sense alone communicated to the babe's instincts, telling them that he was in a supremely dangerous place. All he could do was curl up as small as possible and shiver.

Aventus was seized again, and once again, the newborn strained against his constraints, unable to recognize that these jaws were gentler. Kinder. Everything was too frantic for that. His mouth yawned wide in another garbled cry as he was roughly transferred from, if not outright knocked out of, Fraser's jaws to somewhere else. By now, no matter where he ended up, Aventus was vibrating with fear and discomfort and cold and lacking any control over any of it.

The man who knew healing seemed to understand his concern, though perhaps did not share the dog's idea of rectifying the situation. Still, Fraser stooped to grasp the child as gently as he could—and stopped inches from the dark scruff as his master rounded on him with a snarl.

I— he managed, but knew his words meant little in the face of Merrick's wrath. He had overstepped, gravely. For a good cause, sure, but that did not matter now. He had angered his master, and now he would pay the price.

The deerhound submitted, stepping away from the child and making himself low and small, low and small. He feared harm would come to him, but to raise a defense against the Bruin-witch would only mean his instant demise. The others would turn on Fraser if he did so, surely. He must bear the brunt of Merrick's rage.

His eyes narrowed then closed, and he sucked in a breath in the heartbeats between his initial charge onto the scene and the inevitable punishment that would follow.

Ah, well... this really sucked. Evien frowned when Merrick rounded on the dog, but obediently headed over to crouch next to the child on the ground. He licked it a few times, checking to make sure nothing was broken, before he scooped it into his jaws and carried it back to Leila's den. 

The healer placed the pup down and nudged it slightly before taking a tentative step back, not wanting to further enrage the black wolf. After all, she shouldn't have had the pup taken in the first place. 

Evien could not look behind him, not wishing to see what might happen to the dog.

The ruckus had drawn her in, though as it unfolded Phoebe had a grave wish that she hadn’t witnessed it at all. Her outskirt arrival to the dramatic scene unfolded just in time to see Merrick reach for the dog, and the very action stole the breath from her. It did not escape by way of a gasp or a cry, but instead leaked silently from her. She was rendered mute, uncertain of what had transpired but keen enough to sense that something cruel had led to this.

Yet the savagery that Merrick unleashed was certainly a dreadful sight to behold.

A chill wove its way up and along her legs, sinking low to her belly where it was left to stay; her mouth felt drier than any desert found, and her tongue of a finer grit than the sands therein. Had she sense enough to quiver she may have, but instead she found herself locked in place where the shadows felt deep and dark and all consuming—

What was going on here?

Her hackles prickled along her spine, and she forced herself to look away.

Even she didn't need to see what would happen next—the sounds would be enough.

Cameo! Ikkalrok can be skipped.

It was the chaos and commotion that brought her near. No cries of trespass had reached her ears, but she was diligent and knew these sounds were similar enough to it to warrant investigation. The scene she came upon was a merciless one, but not unfamiliar to her by any means. Though it had never been Tartok tearing themselves apart; it had been them invading, ripping children from their mothers, ending bloodlines once and for all in a bid to acquire new hunting grounds and expand their reign.

The bear of a wolf watched the dog come upon the scene, and moved in closer with a snarl as he made for a cub. Her trust of him was nonexistent, and she detested his proximity to the whelping den... but the bloodied Merrick had it handled. Ikkalrok, large as she was, dipped her head in deference to his whim then... which appeared to be to kill the thing.

A low whuff was sounded to alert him that she was willing to help him in any way should he call upon her, but she would not interfere until then. Still, she supported this decision, and, unlike Phoebe, the savage heathen of a wolf stared. In the meantime, the brutish woman kept to the outskirts of the altercation.

the taste of blood filtered through her tongue -- and for once, it was not so sweet.

it was salted and bitter.

astara's eyes widened as her bear was struck -- as he veered off, crimson welting along his dark and terrible crown. she had done that - she had brought pain to her bear -- but it was he that had brought it upon himself by slinging her body with whelps to bear.

and look! look at what she had grown in her stomach for him! these little, squirming lives that he would sooner dash across a hardened stone;

astara's pace slowed as merrick turned, his belligerence redirected to the hapless dog in their midst. this ordeal did not concern the nightshade -- with a hostile snarl she spun to where aventus had been strewn. it was her intention to scoop him up and back to her den, but the wolves that crowded --

she snapped at rosina first, driving by in a flurry of teeth and maternal furor. evien next, though her aggression abated as she saw him place the child upon the threshold of her den.

astara's teeth clamped down on the child far more tender than they ever had with merrick. in mere seconds aventus was placed carefully by avicus, and for a moment it seemed all was quiet in the den.

yet, it was not so.

havoc and chaos wreaked outside, and astara, driven by the maternal urge for order and peace, re-emerged from the den with a furious roar. all of them -- dog, wolf, bear, healer, observer -- were to get the fuck out.

it did not matter who was closest. astara swung for them all the same, fangs unleashed in heady war.