Hideaway Strath ceathairéad

The passage of time was lost on the parturient Banríon.

True to her nature, Lotte nosed the stillborn toward the mouth of the den; Hemlock’s words heartened and encouraged her, and although a tight knot of anxiety and grief had taken up residence within her heart for his untimely loss, she could not afford to focus on what she could not control. It was some time before another contraction bade her to push, but history repeated itself in the cruelest of ways: this cub, a little female white as freshly fallen snow, was also stillborn. Desperation swelled within the young queen as she fixed Hemlock with a stricken expression, wordlessly nosing the cub toward the midwife for her diagnosis.