Honeyed Pasture bol, radha, bol

birth. fuck.

they came quickly enough, one then two.

his heart grew many sizes, even as his mind reasoned—why? why should you be present for children you'll abandon?

i'll stay around, aditya promised, and poked his muzzle into the den, which smelled of blood and fluids. saw the two little grubs and felt relieved, happy, guilty—

he cleared his throat. i will hunt for you, now, he announced, and took off.

he'd return, with food. but there would be a reckoning.