Sequoia Coast [m] pineapple

the first and most notable thing that wolf dreamer saw was the absence of those threads. stark, now, with how many gilded strands filled the sky, the air, the space between he and she.  

could dancing fox see them?

he hoped she was not able to witness how still and tiny and colorless her children were against the auric lights.

too small. misformed.

despair filled the dreamer. he tasted her pain and it was bitter. 

Wolf snorted. 

the dream is not yet finished, boy.

the sharp scent of birth and blood filled the snow cave.

his arm was around her shoulders. 

no threads. silent children. he pushed their small bodies into the shadows of the shelter and willed the silent screams to bring forth life.

his eyes watched her. his lips trembled.

"come through, dancing fox. dance with the dream. see it fall away in illusion."

birth must bring life, yes? birth must. the dreamer would wait for it, cradling her delicate frame as it was racked by an anguish for which he had no word.