Moonspear mechanically make the words come out

Olive did not miss Dakarai’s disconcerting glance and the women was struck with a sudden range of guilt. This was Dakarai at her side, questioning her methods — his opinion meant everything to her, even if they were no longer bound by the ties of eternal matehood. He alone held the power to rise and break her; no matter the amount of space she placed between them.  And here, side by side, the tips of their fur touching and sparking, she felt the dark knight’s presence more keenly than ever. Olive took a breath and let out of gentle sigh, knowing that he was right in the way he reprimanded their babies.

He was always right.

The children reacted in the way toddlers would — rebelling against any constraints that shackled them. It was almost funny, is it was the nature of young children to be petulant and they could not be faulted for fully experiencing their own childhood. Somehow, Olive deeply understood her children’s developments and minds, despite this being her first litter — perhaps the mother was a bit of a child herself, and this allowed her to commiserate with her children of ash and ebon. She knew them, understood them, and deigned to protect them from the world... but she could not protect them from their father or these ruthless Moonspear wolves who held all their lives in their black coated, blue eyed paws. Olive sighed.  The waifish mother wanted them to have everything she couldn’t.  

“You’re right, Cass — no mean.” Olive reasoned with her children, her eyes jumping from son to daughter and projecting an entreatingly sweet type of sadness. “Being mean will just not do.”  The words felt silly, but necessarily. Somehow, the fae still nurtured a healthy fear that she had poisoned her womb from the fear that was everpresent during her pregnancy. They had been such sweet little mewling things as newborns, but Olive worried that such impacts would show themselves later on during their development. “But please, my children, do try and listen… There is so much on the line. We all must behave.” Surely this went entirely over their tiny, beautiful heads and Olive glanced at Dakarai, briefly catching his eye. Behaving was so difficult.

Deciding the children would need a visual in order to fully grasp the concept of submission, Olive peddled out her willows arms and dainty paws until her chest kissing the ground. “If you meet someone you do not know, you go like this…” From where she laid, the woman shifted her gamine frame to the side and proceeded to curl onto her back, in full submission with her tail curled demurely against her form and all limbs pulled in, leaving her pink belly exposed to an invisible enemy. When they were older and could discern the subtleties of social cues for themselves and determine appropriate responses, perhaps they wouldn’t regularly exhibit such a submissive posture — but until that day, they could not play it safe enough.  Her mossy eyes peered up at the babes beseechingly. 

From this supine posture, Olive continued on her haranguing. “You must.” Her voice was soft, just above a whisper, as was her tendency — but it was rife with earnest. “Bad things happens to wolves that don’t,” and she once again shift to her side, pushing herself up on one feathered elbow. The mother suddenly felt the gravity of their situation.

“If something happened to you, my little moons… I couldn’t… live.”