Hushed Willows wohlhabend

for @Olive, pups, & anyone who would be attending them. backdated about a week, closer to their birth.

a summons had come for the midwife in the warm light of a midafternoon. children had been born to the gentle midwife of elysium; would mahler not come to call upon her in a way that befit both their standings? he had at once wrapped a few herbs in a stiffening pelt and padded after the courier, their wolf-trot eating away the miles until he stood at the threshold of elysium.
here the willows beckoned with movements of their wispy leaves. the gargoyle inhaled the peaceful scent, no longer perturbed that this place harboured a wolf who had once been his enemy. morningside had fallen. diaspora thrived. there was little reason to bear enmity.
because he had come as guest of the leaders, the messenger led him over the borders and to the shelter wherein olive lay with her little ones. mahler hung back somewhat, announcing himself with a rough clearing of his throat; he would not enter until the midwife had laid forth an invitation.