Hushed Willows [festival] so twice five miles of fertile ground

aw but looking for @Isleñaa especially <3

the sounds of revelry do not escape her notice, beginning with the call to gather in the first place. she is undoubtedly intrigued, drawn to the willows like a fly to sweet things, eager to feast. it is a festival, she infers from the message. no, more than that—a fertility festival.

tashkent will whelp this year; she is sure of it. her body has long been ready for pups, and her mind even more so. it isn't as if she has any particularly strong mothering instincts, only that she knows that children are power, and power is everything. children are the foundation of legacies; children raise armies in your name; children conquer on your behalf.

her sons and daughters will whelp, too, and their descendants will rule this land. the gods have willed it. and the gods will bless these willows, especially, for a festival that will put a charm upon her womb. this is where it all begins.

in more than one way.

for as she wanders through the willows, drawing close to the crowd of wolves, she sees an all-too familiar dark-brown pelt, like muddy water in the moonlight. a flash of blue-green in the gaze, and her heart stops, her stomach drops. tashkent feels genuine joy for the first time in a long while, and she struts onto the scene, heedless of all others but the woman toward which she is quickly headed.

and her voice is calm but undoubtedly excited, high enough to carry over the mingled voices but still regal, always regal—

cousin!—