Qeya River i'll pretend being with you doesn't feel like drowning

all tagged are welcome!

wren was oblivious to what had transpired only days before she and her wife had fled the hollow.
the den her family now called home was well covered by a veil of evergreens, and just beyond it one could hear the flow of a cold waterfall. @Sparrowpup sat snug at her breast, as did @Phoebeigh; little @Bryony and @Rowyn were also welcomed to share from her milk if they found themselves wanting the company of their ma. two boys, two girls. it was something straight out of a dream, the new mother felt.
slumber had taken her for most of the day, and now as the cusp of evening began to fall over the river valley, she woke @Silvertongue with a nudge. i finally got 'em to settle, she says of their newborns. and my headache is gone now.

Oh how wrong she was. As if summoned from hell itself, a shriek left his throat. And he rooted. He was starving. He hadn't eaten in hours, days! 

It was uncalled for. Unfair. He was offended. Ostracized. 

And a cranky little fur butt who in fact was catered too. Cleaned and had just eaten 2.5 seconds ago.

no shadow would cast itself across those early days. silvertongue made sure of it. their den was spacious and beautiful and she was happy to be isolated with wren and their little family. day became night became day, and their children grew in health and love. her wife's voice brought the moonbow ears alight and around. silvertongue kissed one small head and then moved against wren, settling with a sigh; "i may become an herbalist after all. then i could insist you take my many medicines," she added with a soft laugh.

sparrow had grown to the size of a proper russet potato, one large enough for baking over a campfire on a cool autumn's night. in all his rounded glory, he also experienced the disadvantages to being a pot-belly, one of them being the incapable use of the stubby things called limbs. his weight left him rolling rather than crawling, and so while snugged up against the warmth of his mother, he felt a calling for a greater purpose. or perhaps it was just a calling to release the gas built up in his gut. 

either way he took muscle, blubber and everything in between and rolled about an inch to the left before a burp and toot escaped him in a blast of gas. were he older he would have blamed it on the wind, but given his lack of hearing, sight, and overall good judgment, he let his silent gift hit his little family with a satisfied smile glued to his lips.

as much as wren loved her children, sleep-deprivation and lack of experience drove her to frustration. one son yowled as if he was being murdered, and the other made a rather obscene noise that seemed to have come from both ends. it was as if she had jinxed herself.
oh, sweet jesus, mary and joseph, she sighs exasperatedly as she sinks her face into her wife's shoulder. she wishes she could disappear there, even just for a moment — just one moment of peace! that was all she wanted! do they ever shut the fuck up?
even through the prickle of annoyance, the mother could not harbor such a feeling for long. she scoops little rowyn in a forearm and adjusts herself so that he may find a teat, the other baby boy now held in the crux of the other. the girls seemed to be calm, for now, at least — she lets them guide themselves and laughs to herself about the neediness of the boys as opposed to their sisters. each are given tiny kisses to the soft spaces between their downy ears.
half listening and half dozing again already, wren picks up on the fact that her wife is speaking to her as a yawn splits her garish jaws. she scoffs lazily. do any of your medicines involve giving me amnesia so i'll forget the hell of having newborns and will want more kids next year?

Thank goodness he didn't smell the noxious gases from his brother. He did feel the vibrations though and protested about it. He protested even louder as he was lifted, paws windmilling. 

His voice growing hoarse from the scream. Soon enough he was back to where he wanted to be. Suckling happily. He would drink to his hearts content and then let out a large belch and sleep for maybe 5 minutes before he was hungry again.

sparrow farted! silvertongue gasped, then laughed solidly at wren's reaction, harder at rowyn's as she tried to comfort him. "i have no medicines for this, no, mi amor. but i promise," she said with some new, sudden wistfulness, "that this stage does not last long." she kissed among the babies as well, sparing several for her wife. "i think we should take turns exploring the river," she murmured, not wanting either of them to leave her den but not wishing to be reliant on anyone else, not when ash star was charged with her own brood. "you want first watch or second?"

One sibling practically vibrated with indignation. Another gave a self-satisfied toot. Bryony, meanwhile, maintained her status as a "good baby." In fact, she was so perfectly peaceful and inoffensive that one had to squint to make sure she was even still breathing.

Wait... is she... ?

Her tiny nose began to twitch in her sleep as her brother's fart hit her, and if infants could grimace she would've.

Oh, thank goodness.

Angel Bryony remained asleep.

a tiny, lopsided grin caught wren's face. good idea, she mumbles, stretching out her limbs as much as she was able in their rather less-than-spacious den. i'll stay here with 'em, if you wanna go.
because, for all of her misgivings and for what it took to get here, she would not trade any of it for the world; this new life, this new home. and silvertongue was right — it wouldn't be like this for long, and one day, they would surely miss it!
for now the riverwife swaddles her babes, shushing them and pulling them close for another feeding.