dawn broke, and with it she brought the first sharp pain, harsh enough to startle mona awake. it did not come again, however, but the young mother-to-be was awake, and brought herself out of the den to pace instinctively. tongue lolling, the little cardinal paused often to lap at the snow, worried as the pressure began to start anew.
there was no one here besides herself — so sorely did mona wish for the presence of indra or even laurel that the tears started at mid-morning. she must not waste her strength upon weeping — she must reserve it for the trials to come.
an hour later, mona lay panting in the recesses of her small den, shivering with agonies that rippled the length of her small body. what rowan must have endured! so resolute was the mayfair that she refused to cry out, only allowing small moans to eke from her strained throat.
this ability soon ended itself, however, and mona began to cry out.
perhaps the stress of being without a mate, or not knowing how her pregnancy would be received, or even the narrow set of her hips — whatever the reason, a too-small, limp bundle came first. mona nosed at it gingerly, tears stinging her eyes to find that her firstborn did not breathe. no amount of attempts would bring life, and so she drew a shuddering breath and lay back to experience the travails again.
this time, however, the dark little body that emerged from her own mewled enthusiastically enough; she cleaned the caul from its face. a boy, larger than the first, already struggling his way toward her teats. there was a rightness that flooded mona as he latched; she swept him closer with a forepaw. and though the pressures continued to climb the length of her spine, they were gentler now, fading off as the den filled with the sound of his nursing and her own soft sniffles.
there was no one here besides herself — so sorely did mona wish for the presence of indra or even laurel that the tears started at mid-morning. she must not waste her strength upon weeping — she must reserve it for the trials to come.
an hour later, mona lay panting in the recesses of her small den, shivering with agonies that rippled the length of her small body. what rowan must have endured! so resolute was the mayfair that she refused to cry out, only allowing small moans to eke from her strained throat.
this ability soon ended itself, however, and mona began to cry out.
perhaps the stress of being without a mate, or not knowing how her pregnancy would be received, or even the narrow set of her hips — whatever the reason, a too-small, limp bundle came first. mona nosed at it gingerly, tears stinging her eyes to find that her firstborn did not breathe. no amount of attempts would bring life, and so she drew a shuddering breath and lay back to experience the travails again.
this time, however, the dark little body that emerged from her own mewled enthusiastically enough; she cleaned the caul from its face. a boy, larger than the first, already struggling his way toward her teats. there was a rightness that flooded mona as he latched; she swept him closer with a forepaw. and though the pressures continued to climb the length of her spine, they were gentler now, fading off as the den filled with the sound of his nursing and her own soft sniffles.
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Messages In This Thread
the whirling ways of stars that pass - by Mona - March 04, 2019, 01:54 PM
RE: the whirling ways of stars that pass - by Ashlar - March 04, 2019, 04:57 PM
RE: the whirling ways of stars that pass - by Gannet - March 05, 2019, 12:50 PM