Moonspear smallest wingless

One glance and the male knew. The little one was gone for this world. He had just been too small for his body to handle the new world. He could have not been able to draw breath, or his insides may not have been fully formed. It could have been anything, but what killed the storyteller healer was the sadness on the ladies face and the stoic desperation and grief that clung to the sea man like kelp.

The gasp startled him and he studied her sides. Counting her breaths and the kicks. They didn't seem to be in any type of danger, but he spoke softly. 

Counting their kicks, they don't seem distressed. Sialuk, may I ask you to check her pulse.

Meerkat needed to stay calm, or well he knew Sialuk knew what could happen. He looked to the woman in apology realizing he had spoken quickly and she knew as much as he did if not more. He briefly felt like perhaps he should leave, but it was said now. And he couldn't take it back.