Qeya River [b] love of mine

this time, it was easier, so much easier. like wren, she too feared the engulfment of motherhood and how it sapped one's strength to be independent. silvertongue had fought so harshly against such fears that it had cost her stormpup, and even shadowpaw for a time. bitter in her motherhood, cast adrift without the compelling pillar of crowfeather, she had surrendered the stake of her maternity to ash star. for all the tension between the variegated woman and her wife, silvertongue would never forget that ash star had willingly become what she had not. the beauty of the riverside where they had decided to settle embraced wren and the sharpfang found herself glimmering translucent in the aura of richness which now surrounded her wife. refusing to dwell upon her emotions in these final days left to only them, the moonsilver wife laughed and loved and spoke, wanting to fiercely embrace the freedom that the open newness of the taiga afforded to them.

***

wren's labour began first. silvertongue walked the floor of their den with her mate, whispering here and there words of comfort, of suggestions which might alleviate any pressure from the aching hips. offering massage where wanted, it was not long before her own body responded to the pain of her wife in long swells which soon found the woman focusing upon her own breath. perhaps that was enough; wren's body twisted and then a small boy came away, a child who silvertongue loved at once. her eyes burned with tears; she kissed her wife's cheek and felt her own contractions dim for a little while. a tiny girl joined the boy, and for a while the wives were left alone in their dreaming, wren shifting her focus between her rest and her mate's labor.

rowen was born on the crescendo of silvertongue's first cry. she fell back beside wren, panting, bringing the strong little boy to her chest so they could both look into that small closed face. she placed him beside sparrow and phoebe, passing a kiss for all three tiny spines, and another for her wife; gritting her teeth and letting small sounds eke beyond them, even as she crooned over their second son, their fourth child.

@Bryony was born as one of her siblings shouted a healthy squall and silvertongue sighed a long, low breath, pushing as she braced herself against wren. for a long time, or what felt like it, she only lay there, feeling her wife reach to clean the second daughter. she looked down as well, and for the first time the pain and chaos and adrenaline of birth did not terrify her. little bryony would join rowen, sparrowpaw, and phoebe at rounded bellies, and before silvertongue let herself slip into slumber, she kissed her wife gently. "we made them."