Sequoia Coast [m] pineapple

She did not want to do this anymore. They were all so small, frail, and twisted. Something had gone horribly wrong; and yet there were more waiting to be born! Wilwarin wanted to give in to sleep.

The man spoke to her—she tried to ignore it and to focus on the silence, so familiar. The more he spoke the more lucid she felt, and once roused could only listen, and with her eyes closed she envisioned to the best of her ability these threads.

What did he mean, she was full of gold? Did he not see the red that seeped from her? The black of death that had overwhelmed her little womb? But he seemed so focused, and it was like hearing a plea or a prayer.

A spider's web.

Was that why her little ones were twisted?

A shudder pulled down her spine. She tried to focus on what he was saying—dew drops, stars? Was she a forest then, infested by this gold? Life, he said. Life.

Whimpering, whispering; she had to keep going or she would die. They would die. Wilwarin couldn't fathom that! She would try.

Bracing herself, she began to push in earnest.

[***]

It was a long night, with the man coaxing the last of Wilwarin's energy in to the act of birthing first one, then another boy. Both were so large it was no wonder the others of the litter had suffered! They made room for themselves.

One, dark and red-brown; a little bear tucked against Wilwarin's side (Airasea). The other a vibrant red (@Galathilion) made more garish by the blood everywhere. Wilwarin was unaware of them—but she breathed now, slowly, steadily.