Deepwood Weald Ahead by a Century

sorry to keep y'all waiting! <3

In the aftermath of her son's birth, she glowed. Dutch came near to see their child, and she welcomed him with a tired, but proud smile. "He does," She replied- obviously pleased to see that her baby resembled her so. To her knowledge, her markings came both her mother and her maternal grandfather; it would be some time yet before the babe's ears showed any indication of being tufted, but she would hope so. 

Soon enough, though, she felt as if her temperature was rising. She began to pant softly, and felt the urge to stir and pace once more- but with the pup at her side, she dared not move. If Raindrop came within the den, she would be ushered out by the (temporarily) unforgiving mother, who once again became agitated in the moments before her next birth. 

With one child suckling at her side, she gave birth to the second- a girl, whose ribs, shoulders, flanks, tail and face were dark- but running along her shoulders was a shade of beige similar to Dutch's fur- and her belly and legs were pale as well. She cleaned the little girl (@Sirimiri), and nosed her alongside her brother but hardly had time to celebrate before she felt the urge to push again. 

The third child came easily- dark-furred and sleek, aside from four beige socks and some hints as well at his chest and belly. Thus, her second son (@Katmai) was born, cleaned, and tucked alongside his brother and sister. Elated, Simbelmyne looked up to her husband, trembling with fatigue, but thriving with the joys of early motherhood. "Three!" She exclaimed softly, as her children nursed. 

And three she thought it would be- calm, fuzzy tiredness crept in, and left her believing that her labour was over. She fawned over the children, and dozed off for a short while in the protective watch of her husband. 

Her eyes opened when she thought she heard an owl hoot; and the dream she'd been having returned, and with it a pang of pain deep within her. She gasped, and moved away from the children for a moment, gesturing for Dutch to come closer to keep them warm. She remained crouched not far away, panting. Another sting caused her to yelp, and she sank to her side once more, straining as she brought forth first one dark pup, and then another, followed by a small trickle of blood. One wriggled- a tiny girl (@seelie) who was lively in spite of her size, but the other...

She could not bring air to his lungs, or life to his heart. 
He was followed shortly thereafter by a sixth child- and once he too had been cleaned and rubbed, whispered to and nudged, she realized that she knew the faces of the two still children. 
On the owl's right wing had been the faces of her four surviving children; on the left, those who did not survive. 

She didn't know whether to celebrate or grieve. It felt wrong to be filled with joy, having four beautiful children, when two had not survived...But it also felt wrong to deny her living children the celebration of their life as well. 

Not knowing what else to do, she held them close- all six of them- reached for her husband, and wept.