Nova Peak my arms are open

something is not right.
no tiny cries. no writhing limbs. only silence, pressing down like snow upon a bowed branch.
he does not want to look—but he does. gold eyes flicking nervously to the sight. a bundle that does not stir, and the one that lives writhing weakly.
another comes. still, lifeless.
horrors lorcan did not think might ever exist in his lifetime. it is a sharp ache that lances through him, fierce and unforgiving. his jaw tightens. but he must be strong.
his embrace upon elowen is firm, tight, and he smoothens his nose along her brow. taking a shaky breath and flicking a glance to ayovi. holding elowen's head in his grasp so that she may not look yet. protecting her from the truth of it.