Ouroboros Spine ᐊ aniuvak

the den was warm with her breath, with the scent of milk gathering slow beneath the skin. ippiksaut stepped in on quiet paws, lowering herself beside raindrop with the ease of one who had sat at many birthing dens, many winters.

your thanks is not needed, she murmured, her voice soft as sifted ash. women must care for one another. that is the old way.

she let her mismatched gaze roam gently over the swell of the soon-to-be mother’s belly, listening to the faint shifting inside — life preparing its first small storm.

tell me, she said, settling her weight into the earth, how do you fare this morning? do you ache in the hips, or feel the tightness come too often?

she nudged the little bundle of herbs closer with her paw. i have willowbark for cramps. sea-lavender for breath. chamomile for easing the trembling that comes before the moon takes her payment.

her expression softened, warmed at the edges. i will stay awhile, if you wish it. sometimes another woman’s presence steadies the body better than any herb.