Swiftcurrent Creek fold out your hands; give me a sign [birth]

would she fail at this, too? 
she is so tired of her inadequacies. sounds is tearing its way up her throat and betwixt her fangs, but she doesn't register it as she curls tightly inward on herself, spasms racking her body. mind is beginning to awaken into sharp clarity, though she is convinced that if she were glance to her sides they would be wreathed in flame, and oh, how it burns. 

aditya's there, and she stiffens so that she may shake her head. "no. it's-" strangled cry cuts of the words, and the curls again in on herself. it's on fire, she wants to say, don't you see? it's cramped and tight and smells of blood, and at least here, under the skies and stars and moon she can breath - 

another. this one's bigger than the first, bigger than any pup should be. for half an hour, she will struggle. in the end, it is sheer luck that has the child born, for just as easily could her labour have stalled. it is almost perfect - save for its impatience, its too-early breaths that had it suffocate before it could exist even for a moment outside the womb. she peers at it and it is still, and foreign, and can't be her own. inky black, a darker sliver of night against the ground and then she tears her gaze away. "adi-" 

but she's not done, oh gods why is this not enough. she stands, half-crouched, takes a step and then two before easing onto the ground again. two, now - in quick succession. these ones she can't see clearly, they're too bloodied for that. panting, she can only stare for a long moment. but with the lulling of the spasms instinct leaks into the cracks they left, and she draws one close with her muzzle, tears away the membrane and tries not to swallow down the blood that is hers. the boy who will be @Stone stirs.