Ouroboros Spine ᐊ aniuvak

Backdated before the hunt!

the morning was soft as down, mist drifting low across the glen like breath held close to the earth. ippiksaut moved through it with quiet purpose, a bundle of herbs clutched gently between her jaws. willowbark, dried chamomile, crushed sea-lavender — all wrapped in a strip of softened hide. strong medicine for a woman carrying life so near to breaking open.

the path to raindrop’s den wound beneath leaning spruce and frost-bitten grass. she followed it unhurried, ears tuned for the faintest sound — a sigh, a shift of weight, the soft murmur of a mother speaking to pups still tucked beneath her ribs.

when she reached the hollow, she paused. the den mouth was warm with scent: milk rising, swelling belly, the trembling edge of soon-to-come birth.

@Raindrop, she called softly, setting the herbs at her feet. i come with gifts for your strength.

she stepped inside only as far as courtesy allowed. her mismatched eyes softened in the dim.

Aw, so happy to have her stop by! <3

An unexpected guest caught her off guard. With the birth of her pups so near, she didn’t stray far from the safety of the den. 

The woman clad in grey hues poked her head into the den, and she gladly welcomed her in. It brought her comfort knowing that there were more women in the pack. 

She was humbled by the gift presented to her. “Ippiksaut, I can’t thank you enough.” She smiled, “Your kindness and generosity is worth its weight in gold.” “Come, sit with me.” She insisted.

the den was warm with her breath, with the scent of milk gathering slow beneath the skin. ippiksaut stepped in on quiet paws, lowering herself beside raindrop with the ease of one who had sat at many birthing dens, many winters.

your thanks is not needed, she murmured, her voice soft as sifted ash. women must care for one another. that is the old way.

she let her mismatched gaze roam gently over the swell of the soon-to-be mother’s belly, listening to the faint shifting inside — life preparing its first small storm.

tell me, she said, settling her weight into the earth, how do you fare this morning? do you ache in the hips, or feel the tightness come too often?

she nudged the little bundle of herbs closer with her paw. i have willowbark for cramps. sea-lavender for breath. chamomile for easing the trembling that comes before the moon takes her payment.

her expression softened, warmed at the edges. i will stay awhile, if you wish it. sometimes another woman’s presence steadies the body better than any herb.

Raindrop liked how this woman thought and how she spoke. Although she didn't understand some of the metaphors, she knew what the woman was asking.

To Ippiksaut's first question: "Yes, especially as the day of their birth draws near. Getting comfortable has become hard, and I've felt queasy too." She explained, "This feels different than my first pregnancy, somehow."

She listened intently as Ippiksaut explained the purposes of the herbs she had brought. One for cramping, the other for breathing, and one to calm the trembling. Where was all this on her first go-round? 

She spoke again, after the woman finished her last sentence. "I agree. Even though you've only just gotten here, I am feeling more relaxed." "You are very wise. I have admired the ability and skills of healers, and have thought about learning the art myself. I had attended what Moon Woman called Women's circles. She taught us healing skills."

ippiksaut brightened, a quiet glow blooming across her grey features — not sudden, but warm, like dawn pushing through a thin veil of cloud.

a women’s circle, she echoed, the words full, reverent. yes. we must form one here. the moon favors the gathering of her daughters.

she shifted a little closer, careful not to jostle raindrop’s swollen belly, and her tail swept once along the den floor in soft approval.

your body remembers this path, she said gently, listening to the trembling beneath raindrop’s breath, but each litter has its own way of claiming the world. queasiness, the shifting of the hips — these are signs the little ones are testing the doorway.

her paw drifted to the herb bundle, selecting the chamomile with a practiced touch. sip this when the trembling grows sharp. it will tell your muscles to soften. a pause, eyes warm. and breathe it slowly. your breath teaches theirs.

then, with a small, earnest smile:

if you wish to learn, i will teach you what the women taught me. herbs, bindings, breath-work, the rites spoken over new life. a healer’s knowing should be shared.

she brushed her shoulder softly against raindrop’s, a gesture of sisterhood.