Nova Peak my arms are open

breathe, little dove.

her body does not listen. it wracks and heaves, trembling under the weight of something she is not ready for. lorcan is there—his nose warm against her brow, his voice the only thing keeping her from drowning. but the tide of pain pulls her under, relentless.

she clings to him, to his steadiness, as ayovi speaks and moves quickly, a rope to hold onto. they are eager to meet you. elowen exhales shakily. it is a nice thought, a comforting one, but fear still gnaws at her bones. she nods despite it, eyes flickering to ayovi, then lorcan. she needs them both. she cannot do this alone. she does not wish to.

another contraction grips her, tearing a ragged gasp from her throat. she tenses, pressing her face against lorcan’s fur, her breath sharp and shallow. she wants to protest ayovi's command, but her body does not give her a choice. she grips lorcan’s paw, nails digging in, and bears down.

the world blurs. she is only pain. only instinct. and then—relief, sudden and startling. the rush of something small, slipping from her body. silence. no, no, please, no.

she barely registers ayovi moving, barely hears lorcan’s breath hitch beside her. it is too quiet, and her whole world zeroes in on her child. her chest tightens, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes—until it happens.

a sound. a thin, warbling cry. weak, but there. living, breathing. she exhales a sob, a broken thing, her head lolling to the side, seeking. her baby. the pressure in her body does not lessen with the babe's exit, the relief does not last. before she can reach, before she can beg, another contraction grips her, and she is pulled under once more.