Nova Peak Wähkär

Her head lifts to Elowen, empathy in the rainwater eyes.
“I will bring you chamomile. I’ve been using it to soothe some of the discomfort.” But there was not much more that could be done now other than to wait for the children to come.
There were moments when Ayovi feared this. She had known women to die in childbirth, but the storm upon the woman’s face withheld her own anxiety. “I’m glad they’ll have eachother; our pups,” she offers instead, imagining little copies of Skorpa and Lorcan wreaking havoc on the mountain together.
She grins to herself, ears cupping enthusiastically with Elowen’s offer. “I’d like that. In Ashēer we would ferment them with nectar and drink together on nights before a hunt.”
She’d need that after all of this.