Hideaway Strath there was a star riding through clouds one night,

Aerin could only listen as the tale unfolded, feeling a stab of concern pierce her heart to see the proud and victorious Overseer reduced to lying on the ground in defeat -- head curled forlornly over her paws. She couldn't stand it; the midwife moved to sit next to her higher-up -- slowly, with great care not to spook the shieldmaiden after she'd shared something so traumatic. "It vas nae yer fault," she promised, much as she had once reassured Arlette. "Ye vere too young and ze stress of it all...it vould 'ave been impossible for anyone to give birth in such conditions. I'm just grateful zat ye are 'ere vith us now an' don't ever 'ave to vorry about such awfulness again," Aerin murmured, hoping it might make the Nightwish feel better to hear such affirmations aloud. 

"I 'ad a 'usband once who did much ze same to me...'e forced me to carry 'is young an' trained me so ruthlessly zat I lost most of ze babes before zey vere born. 'e forsook ze one daughter I gave 'im, saying she vas deformed because she looked like me, an' 'e killed 'er," the medic revealed in a hollow wisp, brushing her muzzle idly over Nyra's head in a comforting manner from where she sat perched aside of the prone Amazonian. 

"Perhaps we cannae save ze pups we lost but...yer father 'as nae more power. An' neither does my 'usband. We 'ave ze power -- us, ze Saints. We can try again an' zis time no one vill 'urt ye or yer children," the Priestess nodded, pale eyes hard with determination as she looked out of the cave -- beyond to the Strath and the haven she had found there.