Arrow Lake ❝—by my blood & bone.❞ (lbr.)

to be invited to the first whelping in diaspora was a great honour for mahler, and gathered to himself a stiff skin loosely wrapped around such herbs he thought would be useful to her midwife. in the early hours of the morning, he arrived at the birthsite and lowered himself toward the entrance.
the man's hard gaze soon adjusted to the dim light; the woman aurëwen lay curled limply upon the den's floor, and almost as soon as mahler had arrived, a child made its way from her body into the world. beneath the clinging fragrance of birth that clung in a sharp tang to the air, the man frowned, for the new mother seemed altogether too weak to move her pup to her breast.
it was in the next series of moments that the she-wolf olive of elysium, grown gravid with her own pups, soon arrived, the scarred vonn in tow, and mahler moved to offer her room. soft words soon touched his listening ears, though the gargoyle found them intimate and attempted not to listen.
"olive," he murmured then, lying his bundle along the doorway and unfolding it to reveal milk thistle, valerian, mosses, anything the hebamme might need in these next hours. he himself was content to act as assistant and would not move forward to offer aid unless instructed.
it was not long after that the long muscles of aurëwen's thighs tightened; he heard her sounds, the catch of her breath, and around olive's protective hover, beheld the secondborn child be thrust into the world, as pale as its sibling had been dark. the sight of it overwhelmed the shadow for a long moment, and for the first time in as long as he could remember, mahler felt the sting of tears behind his eyelids.