Hideaway Strath ceathairéad

@Hemlock to start with, please ♥

Beneath the King Sequoia, Lotte labored.

The trial and its aftermath had left a bitter venom upon the songbird’s errant tongue, and even now, even after the sentence had been determined and the punishment meted out, she recalled the stricken look in Olive’s eyes and the mewling of the mist-shrouded druid’s children. Despite herself — despite her inclination to be fierce and unyielding when it came to Teaghlaigh’s tenets; despite her jealousy; despite the fear that transmuted into fury — Lotte felt sorry for the scarred woman with the eau-de-nil eyes.

“Rakas — !”

Now that all was relatively quiet in the shrouded vale, the fierce drumming of the rogue’s blood seemed even louder. Pain after pain tore through her, enslaving and consuming her — she gave voice to them at last with a low and undulating moan of agony, surrendering utterly to the roil of her tightly stretched sides. They seemed to shudder and roll to a rhythm wholly their own, and the sight simultaneously made her skin crawl and kindled a blossom of hope within her breast. This being her first pregnancy, Lotte could not have known that she had been in the first stage of labor during the trial and was, approximately fifteen hours later, only now reaching its close. Gritting her teeth, she pushed against the roots of the great tree with all four of her legs as another vicious contraction stole her breath away. “Äiskä,” she whined, her argent eyes fluttering closed as she fought off a cramp that made her head spin. This time, though, something was different.

Without any warning, a moderate quantity of fluid dampened the thick fur of her hindquarters, and the ensuing wave of trepidation was enough for her to throw back her head and call desperately for @Hemlock. The quality of her normally melodic alto was cracked and fractured, rife with pain and fear and lacking its normal clarity, as she cried out for aid. Her cubs were as impatient as she was, and they were coming now — a week before they were supposed to have been born. What could that do to such fragile little souls?