Emberwood the black hills, the bad lands, the calloused east

he was almost tempted to scream along with her, their mingled voices carrying into the trees. as it was, cortez merely gritted his teeth, holding her tight, muttering quiet reassurances. it was the messiest, most calamitous thing he'd ever been privy to— it was beautiful. savagely so. and when the boy was born squalling, his eyes burned with tears as well; he pressed his nose to the crown of his sister's head.

little shakti boy, cortez whispered, the pale form going fuzzy as his vision blurred. he blinked, grinning. nephew. god, he's beautiful, olive. of course he is. no child of his sister's womb could possibly be anything less.

he wondered if this was it, or if there were more to come. sure, additional children would be a blessing, but this sole babe was boon enough for him. healthy, and olive as well. he, too, could die happily here, surrounded by blood and birth and wolves that had his heart.