Moonspear procedures

Again, olive responded with a wispy ”oh,” and an equally as soft giggle. Pregnancy and child bearing? Oh, this was one of Olive’s favorite topics. Having experienced the act for herself, the woman knew it to be a divine and godlike process — beautiful in a way that only new life could be beautiful. Perhaps in another life she’d rise to the occasion of becoming a midwife, considering her passion for the art, but she simply did not have the healing knowledge to do so.  “I am no healer,” the lamb conceded, but she quickly followed up brightly with

“Some of the best wolves I’ve known have been caregivers.” 

The realize had come to her very quickly, and it was without a doubt that Olive was thinking  Hemlock and Carina. The two women had both been healers and she owed them much. The woman once called Isley has aided her her castigation from Teaghlaigh, yes, but in her prayer and her devotionals she had come to experience a strange sort of gratitude that was not given to Arturo or Lotte or any of the others — for Hemlock had taken her son in and was, with any hope, treating Sirius as she would her own son.  It took a wolf of strong spirit to do such thing for a women she considered an enemy. 

Carina had been another case entirely — served to a group of wolves calling for her own death; sacrificed for her own enciente, dreadful life. Olive was certain it was her pregnancy that had saved her and Dakarai, as Ceannasach was much to staunch in his perturbed ethics to serve the parents of unborn children to the blackfeather hellhounds. And so sweet Carina had gone in her stead — and Olive did not know if the silent girl was alive or not  — and guilt of it wrought her gut and kept her up at night. But the druid could not show it, lest the Moonspear wolves become curious of their past treacheries. So she swallowed her sadness over her Carina’s death, believing herself not to be worthy.

With Carina’s death, the world had lost some of its light. 

Olive swallowed thickly. “All I have is my own experience, but i’m more than happy to share what I know.” There was a momentary lapse in speaking, and the mother wondered if Lyra knew the questions she wished to ask — it seemed she did not, so Olive filled in the silence with a quick question. ”Of what are you most curious? There was so much to be said about this subject, and Olive did not want to misrepresent herself. “Do you wish to be a mother one day, too?”