Hushed Willows [m] But don't stop dancing, don't dare stop

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Her world was quickly narrowing. Reverie was only dimly aware of what happened beyond herself, Kukutux's defensive arrival and Reina's presence and Tybault's scent drifting faintly into the den. Later she would not remember hearing Kukutux speak, but she listened. She found herself lying on the pelts, overwhelmed with the sound of her own labored breathing.

You are not alone. She nodded slowly. Her gaze drifted, until another shock of pain brought her starkly back into reality, another rush of blood. And then there was no room for thought, nothing but the vague wild notion that surely she would snap into pieces and the scent of blood and the silence, silence save the rough hiss of her breaths. It was over quickly.

Reverie didn't realize at first what had happened. She felt breathless, dizzied, her legs soaked to the skin by the rush of blood and — blood and —

and she knew even as she swept the babe into her grasp that he was too small, too still. She knew. Still she tucked him close, cleaned him lovingly, breath hitching with little sobs that threatened at any moment to shatter into a scream. Her son. She had a son. For a moment Kukutux was forgotten, the clamor beyond the den unheard, the blood and pain not felt. Reverie pressed her face to the tiny cooling body and wept.