Ocean's Breath Plateau [B] Remember when

'Mac's nerves were frayed. The previous day, it was obvious that Raindrop was in great discomfort, and there was little he could do about it. He'd seen this behavior before in his own mother, and he understood what it meant. Anxieties plagued his mind, his ears perpetually pinned to the sides of his crown as he licked his lips nervously. After spending a day of comforting, pacing, and endlessly trying to be of some use, today he'd decided to occupy his mind with hunting. Unfortunately, his mind was too preoccupied, his muscles too spasmodic, his interest too firmly placed back at the den.

He was finally finding some success hunting a small hare at dawn, if only to occupy his whirling brain, when a familiar, but pained howl rang in his ears. Without a second thought, like a tightly coiled spring, he turned about and bolted, sending the hare skittering away at his tail. 

Sumac slowed his pace as he neared the den and swallowed hard. Cautiously, he stuck his nose in and called softly, "Raindrop...?" He'd never been allowed in a birthing den, and Ma had always been of a violent temper at this time. Rain was of a more even disposition, but surely the great pain of labor could drive even the most peaceful temperament into a tempestuous flurry. He'd been granted admission, so he carefully descended, a whine of empathy escaping his throat as he tried to lick her face in a comforting fashion. Not knowing what to do with himself, he simply lay beside her, pressing his side against her back in an attempt to grant her some solace. This was a battle he could not aid her in.

He hadn't realized how much he'd been holding his breath until he heard the first cries, when it came out of him in a rush. His ears erect, gilded eyes wide with wonder as he beheld the tiny, brightly-hued figure. Raindrop instinctively moved the firstborn, a girl, to her stomach to nurse. A second followed with slightly, mercifully, more ease: a beauty of silver, white, and black. A third followed, and after some time, a fourth. In all, four healthy, beautiful daughters. 'Mac forgot himself entirely as he gazed down upon the four little forms, squirming and nursing eagerly. His maw hung agape, all sense of language abandoned. There was only this precious moment, one that was etched eternally in his memory.

After some time, he finally found his voice, hoarse and raw with some unnamed emotion. "They're... perfect," he croaked, his eyes glistening with affectionate tears.