Whitebark Stream I'll unwrap my fingers, free my foot and run away

He hovered, anxious, though dared not enter the hollow. Though he longed to be close to his mate and encourage her through the delivery, support her with all he could give, Dawn had not requested his presence within the whelping den. Artyom, knowing well enough that she would seek him if she required assistance, did not want to disrespect her wish for privacy with intrusion. He naturally worried, though sourced some small comfort in recalling that the ashen Alphess had been through this before.

The recent demise of Salvatore, the disappearance of Connor, the return of wayward Kavik - these thoughts and the whirlwind of emotion to accompany each of them was promptly forced to the back of Artyom's mind as a summons came from the burrow over which he guarded. He gathered to his ivory paws and padded closer and ears pricked forward as he held his breath, listened for the gentle coo of newborns. Artyom moved inside, a whole new feeling quickening the beat of his already racing heart as his gaze took in the scene before him: Dawn, his Dawn, presenting to him the most wonderful gift she could've given.

Their children, each as perfect as the other, and Artyom stared at all four tiny pups as though they might disappear should he dare to blink.

Words failed him when at last he sought the sterling leader's lovely features, yet the glimmer of his watery eyes would communicate the overwhelming adoration he'd come to feel for her. With a croon he ducked his crown to press his gilded brow to that of his companion, pressed a feather light kiss atop her snout, then settled in near to her so he might gaze longingly at their litter over her slackened shoulders.