Redtail Rise we ca[m]e up with a game to play of being born again

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Since seeing Dark Man, the pain had not returned as it had that day... but there were some small spells of it. Sunday Morning had the mind, now, to go to the whelping den. It felt early somehow, but perhaps that was what her body intended to encourage. For the following twenty four hours, perhaps more, Sunday lingered there. And the pain returned. The late hours of the twenty-fourth brought on great tragedy. When the pain ended, this time there was blood. And  Sunday Morning whimpered quietly to see the two small things she had gently removed the sac from, when it all felt finished, breathless.

Her tongue pressed against their sides in an effort to resuscitate. Sunday had not been aware that these two were born dead. She wrapped herself around the two beings and slept a restless sleep that was far from restorative. Too exhausted to call for Mountain Boulder, or anyone, she had determined to do so when she woke. Her heart ached, but for now she permitted herself to mourn this loss, and to be with them, alone.

But the following day came, and with it, a different sort of pain. This came in waves, and Sunday Morning rose to pace and pant. Sunday Morning growled and snapped at her sides, having thought it all over, and wondering what she must endure this bit of it for. Sunday Morning felt concern, and it was now she loosed a call for Mountain Boulder, for Red Woman. Should she be taken next, she would have them know.

Instinct bid her not let them in, not yet. They would hear of her trial, her confused and pained whimpers. Her labored breathing. Her pacing.

But by the dawn, she had her answer to that why she had asked, hours before.

And Sunday was happy once again. For before her, cleaned and breathing, was the little girl of hers and Mountain Boulder. Thursdays Dawn was born a small thing, but Sunday Morning knew her strength. It was her alive at her teats, now. Sunday Morning looked to the two that had not made it. Instinct bid her to eat them, their hormones not recognizable to her anymore.

For now, Sunday Morning was content to groom @Thursdays Dawn, but before long she took care of the first two when hunger took over.

As of yet, she still had not let any into the den. Hours had gone by. But something still forbid her from it, and as pain returned, and Sunday labored  for hours more, there next came a great boy. Bigger than his sister, @Thursday Evening was already a hefty thing. Sunday Morning grinned at the two  she had produced, and doted on them both with a gentle tongue.

Her crooning note came in the shape of the sound she had for Mountain Boulder. He could look, now. Though should he come too close, she would warn them away with her teeth; they were too small, too fragile, for company beyond herself. But he could look, at least. See what gifts they now shared.

Thursdays Dawn, and Thursday Evening; young, and fresh, and new... but already her greatest accomplishment.