Heron Lake Plateau [m] your hands can heal, your hands can bruise

She didn't move again once Mariposa began to talk to her, the soothing tones helped a bit, but so did the loss of fluids and her general lack of energy. Birthing four children was hard work (even if most of them weren't quite ready yet). Her breathing was still a bit quick, the rise and fall of her sides made to look more pronounced because of the girth she'd developed leading up to this moment — but she sat there as calmly as could be expected, dazed and feeling empty. All around her there were signs of the struggle: blood, bodies of children she'd never meet, and then the scattered pair of tiny babes mewling for her. Needing her. This time if/when they were placed by her belly, she wouldn't stop them from latching upon her and drinking their fill; no, she didn't really do much of anything.