The Sunspire my dove, my lamb

 Again, the enervated druid leaned into the cosseting of her sister-kin, appreciating her presence during the birth of her children. Olive would certainly be there for the birth of Seabreeze’s own, and hopefully for every litter either of them bore for the rest of time. It was a special bond they shared, tied together on a soul level and an integral part of the most wonderful days of her life.

The babies murmured and followed their instincts towards her breast. If they weren’t feeding they were pushing against one another, or turning away to wriggle around on their small-yet-strong baby limbs. The mother helped to nudge them back towards the warmth of her being; there was nothing to explore now that could not be explore later, when they were not mere minutes old. Olive could not helped but be amused by their ambition, though.

Soon, the family was not alone and the new mother felt her stomach clutch and tighten at the thought of Rannoch or the more prickly of Sunspire’s member had come to see what all the ruckus was about — but it was none other than Cassiopeia, and no one was more welcome than she. Though Olive could not gain a clear view of her [now] eldest daughter, her onyx-hued kin could not conceal herself against the light of day as she might had done in the dead of night. There was an energetic pull, one that was clearly mirrored in her adoration for her newest litter, that Olive immediately recognized whenever Cassiopeia was near.

Briefly turning from her fellow midwife, Olive called out in a feeble, yet entirely satisfied, tone.“Cass,” she invited, “come meet your new siblings, Séamus, Eleuthera and Oaxaca.” She wasn’t sure how the girl felt about being an older sister — or about her mother, the only kin who hadn’t forsaken her, bore new progenies — so Olive offered a little guidance. “We have been so blessed!” she stated with utter confidence, looked at both of them with drunken eyes and nodding distinctly. Yes, they were.