Bearclaw Valley to my mother

quite vague due to birth thread gone awry. assuming she lives, lol. limited to immediate family but no obligation to join. @Astara @Aventus @Merrick

Avicus loved her mother. it was not a conscious choice; this adoration rose from the very marrow of her bones, something instinctual, primal. the physical cord between them might have been severed, but never would their bond be rent asunder—at least not if the girl had anything to say about it.

she was young and blind and questing for milk, pushing mindlessly against the small sack of flesh that was her brother(?) and the larger wall of warmth that was her mother's belly. her lips found a teat and ah. . .bliss.

perhaps the fervency with which Avicus adored Astara was rooted in this giving and taking of sustenance; perhaps it would fade with time. one might think so. all that mattered now, though, was the present moment—and in the present moment, Avicus intensely, truly loved her mother.

she drank deeply, growing, learning.

her daughter. her little russet daughter. 

hers. 

was this what indra felt like then, holding merrick close to her chest?

astara blinked, feeling her daughter sup from her flesh. 

such a strange, otherworldly thing, this motherhood. what wild, basal instincts weaved their way through her, telling her what she should and should not do. 

what she must do. 

her blood chilled as she thought of merrick, her bear. his jaws wrapped around the other one. 

she passed a tongue down avicus gently, ruminating — wondering — what strangeness was yet to come.

the caress of her mother's tongue down her spine is the most sublime comfort. her mouth pops off the teat, accompanied by a sigh. she stretches out into the touch, smacking her lips in idle contemplation of what this all means—

what does it mean? her world is so small; her universe miniscule. Avicus and Aventus, the little planets orbiting the sun that is Astara. the presence she has sensed nearby on occasion. . .a distant black hole. (she soon will discover how apt that comparison really is.)

if her purpose is adoration, Avicus is knocking it out of the park. she is content with her life of milk and dreams.

she sniffles and sneezes, a tiny explosion. the dust she cannot see rises around her muzzle, wisping into the air. snuffling, she presses her nose into the crook of one of her mother's forelegs, seeking shelter from the new sensation.

she is so cute

it had been a long time since astara had been so content. as her daughter yawned and stretched, the realization hit the blackbird like a bolt from the blue: when  had she ever been so blissful?

the answer was never: she was constantly besieged by feelings of jealousy and insecurity (even now she wondered, where was her bear? was he fucking that petite, pretty phoebe? astara did not believe it an accident merrick was surrounded by lithe, attractive wolves). her little daughter was so content with her lot in life. would it always be so?

she groomed the babe absently, retracting her muzzle as a small sneeze sounded from the crook of her ribcage and arms. bemused by the light splatter of dust, astara shifted to allow avicus better protection within her forearms.

contentedness? no, it will not always be so. dreams of childhood bliss resonate long into the future. there is no comfort like a mother's arms, of the ability to erase all of one's problems and fears. the vulnerability of infancy is necessary to leave behind, but it is bittersweet.

children long to grow up, only to find themselves grown-ups and yearn for simpler times.

Avicus will not remember this exact moment, but she will remember the essence of it—an amalgamation of now and all other similar memories. the feeling of utmost warmth and safety. unless things go utterly awry—if Astara chooses to turn from her daughter rather than embrace her—this is the core of their relationship.

this moment is why Avicus, no matter what happens going forward, will always love her mother. she only needs to turn back time and look down upon this moment to know—

i am safe. i am loved.

still snotty-nosed, she falls asleep again, boneless and cradled close to Astara's chest.

no more little sneezes sounded from the crook in astara's arms. the little stormcloud, with her nose rimed in snot, had fallen to sleep.

to succumb to slumber that easily! astara admired avicus' ability to sleep so fast; here, she would think for hours before sleep finally deigned to visit her.

arranging herself protectively around avicus, and trying not to jostle aventus in the process, astara brought her nose to her tail, with both babes nestled between her arms and flanks. for now, there was peace; astara's eyes closed, but her mind remained awake for some time.