Hushed Willows [festival] remember what you were made to be. remember your words.

The misted sylph listened as the woman, in her strange and vivacious accent, supposedly thanked her and then decorated her cubs’ father with laurels such as valiant. Olive listened,  already enthralled by the woman’s words, and sat her narrow hips against the earth in a distinctive act of commitment. This was the sanctuary’s land and, as such, Olive felt safe to presume that she could sit and listen to the words that the woman proffered so freely. 

Plus, it was the night, and Olive was a nocturnal creature — she found that her mind and soul operated at their sharpest during the early hours of the morning. If the pale, gravid woman was awake at this hour and not drained from the evening’s festivities, perhaps they were cut from the same cloth. 

“Oh, isn’t that lovely.” She tittered in response, already loving the stranger’s dedication to her beloved. Here she did not linger, instead moving on to a topic that many mothers asked after —especially if it was their first time. Advice? There were plenty of old wives tales that Olive could pass on, or stories from her career as a midwife, but every pregnancy was unique and to advise one from the other would require tools that wolfkind, unfortunately, did not have access to. There was very little that Olive could actually do or tell at this point. Her true usefulness came during delivery, or if any complications arose in the later parts of the pregnancy.

Olive gave a small laugh, smile beaming just as the stars that glistened overhead. “Though I am a midwife, I can only tell you what you’ve likely already heard from others. The teachings of motherhood can only come from within.” She did not want to appear entirely useless in this endeavor, though the true delight of midwifing came from being at a woman’s side through the entire process of bringing life into the world; and she had a sneaking suspicion that the woman would have understood this. “I feel that, since you’ve come to celebrate the fertility festival with us, that your heart is already in the right place. Therefore, love, you already know everything that you need to in order to thrive.”

Olive gave a small huff, almost imperceptible except for the frosted cloud that exited her lips, and pulled herself from her seated position in order to made a suggestion — and to be closer to what she was suggesting. “When I feel uncertain, I find that the gods can provide a true sense of comfort. They don’t very much like to keep secrets, where innocents are concerned.” The last statement was said with a knowing nibble of the lip and tilt of her head towards the woman’s belly, which bulged in the sweetest manner. The gods never hurt children; after all, it was a sin of sins. 

“We can read their whispers in the stars,” the druid shared, not knowing if this was an ideology that the woman prescribed to.