Ouroboros Spine paniktak

Lótë watched the pale girl's face carefully -- a pain striking her to realize, again, that she would not be a girl much longer. How fleeting were the days of young childhood, but she could not ponder on that thought long. A small smile graced her face, relieved as she was that her older children might receive new siblings with acceptance and joy. 

Then, she addressed the concern niggling in the back of her skull like a persistent bee about a flower. "It must seem scary -- what we go through to bring our children into the world. It is." She saw no reason to lie to Wil, it was important her daughter knew the truth should she ever decide to become Amil herself. 

"There is great pain. For great things are often born in pain. But, it is worth every second of pain," Lótë reassured her as best she could, dipping her head so she might catch the amber and gold of the butterfly's gaze and show she meant these words. "It was a great struggle to bring you all into this world but I have delighted in being your mother. I would suffer it ten times over if it meant the result was the same -- holding you all close against me and breathing your scent in the first time." 

"Motherhood is not for every woman. It is possible that you may not ever feel the call to bear your own cubs," the dove informed her, not unkindly. This was just as acceptable as raising ten litters. It did not determine a woman's worth. "But I only want you to know that the joy of meeting your child and raising them -- it makes it all worth it."