Dragoncrest Cliffs You are wildings: untamed, unholy, ungod

When the new mother finally drifts off to sleep, her voice softens and she gently nudges against her nose and listens to her breathing. For a while she gets a little bit of rest but Thuringwethil remains alert at all times. She scarcely moves if she can help it and only once considers calling for another to stand guard so she can focus solely on her mate. If anything were to happen, she’d likely notice ahead of time, but she zeros in closely to what’s going on.

Thuringwethil is startled when Wildfire bolts upright and she lifts her head, leaning back to give her space, and a beat later they have a boy. The experienced mother shows her work and Thuringwethil smiles, nodding her head once, but follows it with a quiet, “sha.”

And, with one more, is the biggest of the biggest of the four. Her eyes trail across all four of them, neatly cleaned and ready for the world. It’ll be a while yet before they’ll conquer, but until then, the four nameless babes mewl into their mother.

“I am proud of you,” she whispers, leaning forward again, inching as close as her mate will allow, with soft kisses where she can reach.