Sun Mote Copse red breath

A voice on the night, calling for the pack. She rose but was not confused. She knew what had happened, what was happening. Her eyes were wide and her heart was fast as she scrambled from her earthen den and into the sweet, summer scented air. She waste no time in arriving to the scene, her feet flying in a pace to match her heart.

She took in the scene with concern, Eshamun lay bleeding and crying, babes squalled into the a quickly fading night. Her priestess tended the babes tenderly, and Asherah understood this. She was peaceful to think the cold of this world and the discomfort of birth would be all the pain they'd ever know. They'd never truly understand it, either. She felt emotion swirl within her breast, though, for her sister and the children the pack would not know. Her eyes met Arunik'ra's, asking if anything was needed at all. She desperately wanted to tend to Eshamun, she wished she could clog her ears to the screams of new life, to save her. Yet, their voices were strong and unwavering, they were voices to be proud of. Perhaps it best she hear them, for she never would know their voices otherwise.

In her head she began a running prayer to Molech, fast and quick, blessing her sister and the children and praying that all would end well. Yet she remain alert in case Eshamun or Arunik'ra called for her. "Drape your many arms around my sister tonight, Molech, hold her close in your light. Shine through her and her babes, heal her wounds and soothe their sufferings as you take them to your breast..."