Heron Lake Plateau [m] your hands can heal, your hands can bruise

The second child wouldn't be any better than the first; a mess of parts half-formed, lungs too small to even breathe, eyes not yet formed — but Camilla didn't see the face of her babe because her husband scooped it away. It wouldn't open its eyes, wouldn't take a breath.

Honey, a voice she doesn't know softly comes to her —you're having your puppies.

Camilla blinks, shivering, and focuses on the girl rather than the horror that her body is putting her throught. She was breathing too fast. The strain on her heart was straining the rest of her, and the babies were suffering for it. They were right, she needed to calm down. How does she calm down? She sees the blood in the ground - smells the thick scent of Phox and the blood of her body and the sweet newness of the children —

— but focuses on the stranger at her side instead. Breathes. Tries to breathe, strains, feels the contractions coming again and again in closer waves than before. Its more of a struggle this time. Compared to the first two that seemed to slide right out of her, this next one doesn't want to budge.

She looks to Mariposa and — finally, out comes a bundle of black fur. It looks more like Phox than like her. With his arrival there is a flood of relief and her body relaxes, sags against the grass, and she's able to breathe properly for the first time since this has all started. Camilla doesn't think to look at this new child because she expects it is like the others - malformed, soon to die, because it is born from her cursed womb. But soon enough there is a loud squalling — a @Figment of what life could be like.