birth

Scimitar paced --his creamy paws would seemingly plow a rut in the ground before their den, an indication of his stress as he traveled from one end before the den mouth, and then the other. Bazi's shrill screams only stirred him to cringe, pressing his ears to his skull and his eyes to desperately peer at the den entrance -- knowing there was nothing he could do and that would not hinder.

The others stayed away for the time being, but he knew they would be close by. Finally, the noises subsided. His ears were trained upon the den, and there were distinct sounds of squeals, suckling, and breathing. Steeling himself, the cinnamon male inched closer to the entrance now, his muzzle just poking in so Bazi could only see the black of his nose. "Bazi?" It was a simple question -- but one that encompassed so much. Was she okay? Were the puppies okay? Did she need anything? Should he go in?

Waiting for any sort of direction from his mate, the new father waited helplessly outside, torn between indecision and fear.