Emberwood the black hills, the bad lands, the calloused east

He laid down next to her but she didn’t feel the need to respond to him; he was here, and that’s all that mattered. She stowed her voice in an attempt to stymie this entire thing, and the druid half expected to feel better from simply resting; that it was the travel that had disturbed her body’s serenity so, and now that she was at rest, all stilled. For a while, that was true — the cramps in her abdomen abated and the control of her breath returned. Olive blinked to herself, wondering if it was truly gone, and being so very thankful for it. Maybe everything was going to be okay. 

Maybe, just maybe, she could stand. If she could gather the strength to do that, then certainly all was over and then she would rest and wait for her family to arrive, and with their love and support she would return safely home and birth her children amongst the willows, where they were supposed to be born, when they were supposed to be born. It would all go according her plan, because everything went according to her plan nowadays — it was the only thing ever she counted on. 

Time to stand, and prove to herself that everything would be okay. There was a dull ache that emanated from her loins that nowhere near matched the intensity of before, so she gingerly gathered her legs together underneath her and, though the attack had left her weak, managed to rise up to an unsteady height. She smiled to herself, relieved and certain this meant something good — she almost lifted her voice to the winds to cancel out whatever strangled call Cortez had made, but then a wet sensation between her legs cause her to look back. She was shocked at what she saw. He delicate thighs began to quake as the fear returned a thousandfold. A weak whine emanated from her throat, but her body remained frozen at that spot, in that very pose — trembling, weakened limbs splayed out, barely keeping her standing.

Blood; crimson red, staining her porcelain fur like a hunt in the snow.