Sun Mote Copse unconditionally from me to you, I pass this love on to you

Backdated to the 25th!

Giana knew precicely what was happening when she felt the pull to her den that night -- the stirrings of contractions were weak, but noticable to the experienced woman. Knowing there was a long night ahead of her, she stopped by a cache and snatched a stale, cold rabbit before waddling her way to her den. The fallen log was wide enough and tall enough that the mother could scoot her way in, and the opposite end was closed with roots and dirt -- big enough to raise her pups for the first few months, sheltered enough to keep them warm so long as a warm body was with them. Perhaps she would dig a den underneath when the pups were too big to fit here with her, but Giana wanted to keep this den as long as she could. It'd been the first suitable den she'd found in the Copse for herself, even before she knew she'd be having kids.

She ripped through the rabbit with ease as she sprawled in the entrance of her den, but by the end was rushing through it, swallowing unchewed chunks as she really went into labor.

Unlike most females, she didn't feel the need to pace, or move, or mark -- she was happy to keep her back to the entrance, hunkering down to ready herself. Nervousness fluttered her heart and spiked her anxiety, but she reminded herself that she'd done this before and she didn't need help. Sure, Arunik'ra and Ar-Khalba knew of herbs, could likely help her through this, but the stubborn side of herself gave a firm no.

An hour or so later, she began to push -- she rumbled and growled, clawing at the aged and toughened bark beneath her with each strain. It was a long couple of minutes before the firstborn dropped from her rear, but much shorter than the hours she'd strained with her first litter. In fact, this time already seemed shorter and easier than before. Turning to snatch her gracefully, Gia brought the night-colored little girl to her front with a swipe of her paw, licking the sac clean of the baby and swallowing it without a second thought. The girl let out a soft whimper at her mothers touch, paddling faintly speckled legs, but it wasn't as strong as it should be. Upon gazing closer, she noted the slimness of the girl and the effort she needed to do even such primal, instinctual things. Gia might've killed it right there if she hadn't felt the strong beat of a heart -- sickly and thin as the girl was, and doubtful as her mother wouldn't admit to being, the ivory woman placed @Aurora Artemis Abernathy-Angelo at her belly to nurse.

It was almost an hour Gia got to lay there in silence with her baby girl, watching over her silently and easily deciding that the tiny girl was not a proper gift to Molech. This one she would raise as a daughter, survival pending, to be a great and respected warrior woman of The Malkaria. She didn't once think her daughter might not take suit to the life of war, of a guardian, for she had the Angelo blood pumping through her veins! No matter what their first interest would be, what dreams blossomed in their hearts, they were all warriors deep in their soul. The mother, for the first time since his leaving, thought of Hadraniel: she'd never felt afffection for him, but it did sadden her to know that, like her, the litter would grow up with only one parent. What were his interests? What were the skills and interests that were common in his bloodline? What she would tell their children about him, she didn't truly know -- despite her last words to Hadraniel, could she tell her children that their father didn't want them? It was not his feelings she was afraid of wounding, but the children's fragile hearts. They were her blood, of course, and they would be strong, but the rejection of a family member was something she knew only from the in laws she'd inherited from Giancarlo.
In the next moment, her own brain answered her: yes, yes she could. She could tell her children that, because Molech laid claim to them, to their family, held them in this many arms and kept a benevolent eye over them all, Hadraniel had turned and left. Not out of fear -- at least not that she'd seen -- but out of a sober choice, of perhaps jealousy or anger; he'd turned and left Giana alone to raise the children on her own, and she would tell them that Hadraniel hadn't wanted to stay behind and be the father they'd deserved.

Her wandering and viscious thoughts were pulled back by a stronger contraction, and Gia stiffened to push once again -- this time, the wait was even shorter. A boy of unbroken ebony fell onto the soft, firm bark, and Giana whisked him close and took her tongue against his pelt. This one was chubby, strong, flailing and wailed loudly in need.... This, her eldest son (of this litter), would be her sacrifice to this new world, to the god who chose her fate and watched over her with a benevolent eye. He would be given to the light without hesitance. Keeping him between her paws, the Angelo called stiffly for @Eshamun. There was no other that Gia would hand her child to willingly, and it was already hard to think about. She nuzzled him gently, licking at the soft, damp boy with all the love she would have raised him with. Dearly she wished to keep him, to raise him beside Aurora and to be a proud Angelo warrior -- to one day see him sire more children in the name of Molech, to ward off the leader that would come with vicious fangs and the instincts that coursed through her body.

She remembered, then, that he would be blessed as much as he was blessing her and the Copse. The boy would never know strife, or loss, or pain -- he would forever only feel the love of his mother before a swift, painless end.

Against all her thoughts, her knowledge and wishes, she knew the boy briefly as Knight -- the knight who secured her safety with giving up a life in the mortal world for a hopefully comfortable and painless life beside Molech.

As she hugged the boy, more contractions hit her, much earlier than Gia had hoped. She'd wanted Knight to be gone by the time another demanded to be freed from her womb in order to give her more privacy, but she'd already howled for her ekar-aji and would not send her away. The boy would not be allowed to take milk from her other puppies, would not nestle close to his siblings, not as she knew his fate -- it was Winter, and Gia would not risk the lives she was in charge of protecting, not even for the dear boy that was sealing such a world for them. Part of it, too, was that she wanted less of a bond with Knight: unlike Asherah, who had kept Bachir for eight days, Giana would not grow attached (or so she thought) to the boy she couldn't keep. She didn't trust herself not to turn back on her word to Molech and Eshamun.

Bearing down, careful not to squish Knight or Aurora, Giana birthed a third and final puppy. This one was the hardest yet, smaller than her first son but much, much fatter. Scooting the pudgy amber boy up next to his slightly larger brother, the ivory femme cleaned @Cosmos Apollo Abernathy-Angelo gently before putting him to suckle beside his little sister. They would know of Knight's sacrifice, when they got older: they would know what life he secured for them this Christmas, the blessing cloaked in dark light. They would one day learn to love his memory as fiercely as she did now.

written by raven marie