Hushed Willows someone (holy) insisted

Sorry for the wait! I'm job hunting... *sigh* >>

The first night, Warbone had paced without speaking, driven relentlessly by a feeling of uselessness. The locusts swirled inside the cave, but most had been driven inside through sheer volume of the storm and they all departed after finding no green there. Dead bodies were scattered around them, and still the massive wolf paced— back and forth, and back and forth— a silent mantra keeping him from a violent detonation. As Octavia's unease began intensify, however, the alpha reverted suddenly to a reserved front. He became incredibly still after a while, remaining poised in a position as everlasting as the sphinx, until finally the swollen female at his side sought to depart. Only then did he move, and even in this instance, h only moved his head so that his eyes might watch her.

As she disappeared into the cleft, Warbone rose, and drove his packmates into a more sequestered brood before placing himself alone at the mouth of Octavia's chosen den. He did not sleep, though exhaustion readily beseeched him, and it was hours still after that before he heard her calling for him.

He was hesitant to squeeze into the Crook's depths. He was not afraid, but he was dreadfully worried of the new mother. She-wolves where he was from were insatiably violent after whelping, and it would sometimes be weeks before even the father was allowed visitation. But this was not Tall Timbers, and Octavia was not his brand of wolf. Besides, she needed him, whether either of them admitted it or not— and all of her stresses were not things that could be handled without help. Who else could she trust with the task of her life and the lives of her children?

Warbone emerged into the broad opening, eclipsing what little light there was to spare from that direction, and he paused there at the entrance as he took in everything there was to see. Octavia, haggard and smelling foreignly of afterbirth, was cradling two bodies; only the lighter one suckled. The darker body, separate and motionless, lay prone before her in a harsh reminder of her undue stress and the failure that had become of it. It didn't speak to her ability as a mother, though he suspected she might feel that way at any rate. The wolf remained at bay, making a quiet whine in his throat as he slid down to his belly and watched her face. "What marvel have you wrought us, Octavia?" he asked after a long moment, his tone faintly light-hearted; perhaps even reverent.