Blackfeather Woods OHMIGOD

The first time she vomited, she didn't think much of it; perhaps there was a bit of yarrow in that poultice. The first time her mind was fogged with dizziness, she attributed it to the sudden heat. The first time she spent all night urinating, she blamed herself for drinking too much.

But after two weeks, it became clear to the witch: she was pregnant. She thought this as she threw up, yet again, in the middle of the night, her stomach churning. Her head roiled with thoughts and hormones as she felt bile rising up her throat. Had @Damien figured it out? Was her scent different now? The thoughts quickly left as what remained of her dinner came up once more.

Every second that Potema was out there was a second Damien spent dealing with anxiety. He feared for her safety, but the desire for what he would gain from it was bigger than anything. This was something that Potema needed to do alone, Damien knew, for the presence of a male, even concealed within shadows would ward potential "donor" off.

But the thing was, Damien had long started seeing his sister more like a device than a feeling being. First she'd been his medium to contact mother (which had been useless), and not a vessel to bring Blackfeather Woods' future to life. She was still his sister, and he loved and cared for her, but the baby Potema with whom he'd shared a playground existed no more. They had grown apart, and Anthony is having a harder time dealing with it than Damien himself.

When she silently returned her scent spoke out for her. Many men were mingled in that smell, them and their fluids, which flashed sensual memories on Damien's mind. And despite his inexperience with the subject he could tell that something had changed, and when the truth was imminent he did not wait to confirm it. How are you, he asked the witch after she was done disgorging. He'd come in her search specifically, dying to know whether she'd succeeded in her mission.

She didn't realize her brother was there until he spoke, and even then she didn't greet him favorably. The witch whipped her head towards her brother, narrowing her eyes. I am literally throwing up and you ask how am I. She snarled, vomit staining her pure white fur right on the corner of her lips.

Her stomach began to settle, though her bad mood didn't ebb away. There were seven, It wasn't as if she didn't enjoy the encounters somewhat. It was just the fact that it was she who had to do this. No one else; Potema had to go be a slut to continue the Melonii line. Even mother knew who she was fucking. I'm pretty sure I'm pregnant. Not sure who; I'll figure it out later, Some she wished were the fathers, though there were quite a few that she would love to block from her womb. Satisfied?

At first his face couldn't help but pull away from Potema's reeking breath, ears flat to his head as she snapped at him with a hidden rage. He dared not say a word, giving her the time she needed to go over her dreadful situation, before he stepped forward with a straight face and tail high with confidence.

"I don't care about the number or the name," he said, voice deep as he regained control of the room, managing somehow to be as cold as he was comprehensive. "What matters is that you succeeded... Well done sister," he finished planting a kiss on Potema's forehead regardless of any opposition she might put.

"You know we're doing this for Blackfeather, right?" he said then, after a moment of silence in which Damien intended to give his sister time to clean herself up a little. Despite his disregard of Potema's thoughts on his request there was a part of him that felt guilty for forcing this upon his own sister... But they had agreed that this was the best for the pack, hadn't they?

She flinched as Damien's lips pressed against her forehead, but she did not pull away. Well done, he said, as if it was something hard to do: go into heat and present your arse to whatever male passed. It wasn't as if she hadn't enjoyed it in some parts, but there was this part of her...that wanted a father for her children. She had grown up without Bane, and Burke had long since disappeared. The fathers of Melonii children had a nasty habit of being absent, something she didn't want for them, the unknown creatures within her that she would soon come to know as her children.

She turned and locked eyes with Damien, her stomach cramping. She held back what she knew to be bile rising in her throat — there was nothing else left in her stomach. I am painfully aware of that, Brother,

Painfully, she said, and Damien's calm expression started to deteriorate. Had she not been in agreement with the plan? Had she not volunteered her loins to make it work? The pregnancy could very well be the cause of her foul demeanor, but Damien did not deserve being treated in such a way, he was only seeing for the pack's interest, and as a leader herself, Potema's duty was juts the same. "If there is anything you wish to say then Spit it out already," he growled, having had enough of the witch's mood. Damien had been too permissive for too long, but he was the master of the forest, not Nemesis, not Cicero or Potema either, him.

She wanted to say something more, fueled by the raging storm of hormones the men she had met created. It probably would have gotten in her in more trouble than she would have wanted, but luckily for her she was stopped. She retched once more, then vomited up bile, her stomach heaving for more things to bring up. She was too miserable to joke at the irony of Damien's words.

Despite the rage burning in her eyes, Potema chose silence over the brashness she'd been going on. Damien prolonged his stare to make a point: He was in control no matter how pregnant or gifted Potema was, and that was how things would continue to be for as long as Damien stood.

It was clear that the witch was not in a mood, or a state to attend Damien's visit. Her body heaved once more, bringing up the little remains of whatever Potema had eaten last. Damien stepped back, staring down at the gross scene with pity and disgust, but with the understanding only a loved one could offer.

"I will not leave you alone in this," he promised, words meant to be encouraging. He'd decided this long ago, even before he'd come up to his sister with his plan, and he was not going to take it back. "They will be mine as much as they're yours. We will make sure mother is proud."

Bile and stomach acid burned her throat. The witch swallowed painfully a few times, gasping. She would have to find some honey later, though the thought of swallowing some of the sweet nectar down only to heave it back up again disturbed her. She damned the pups growing within her, hoping that this had better be worth it, that they would actually be helpful instead of disappearing like Kendra did.

She looked up at her brother, a scowl still gracing her features. She huffed, but at the mention of their mother, she stiffened. What if she died just like mother did? Was her life only made to be sacrificed for her children? She would be proud, She murmured thoughtfully. I don't think she would leave me alone; giving me poultice after poultice and making sure I was ok, She smirked, remembering how mother reacting when one of their own was pregnant.

Unlike his witch sister, Damien did not realize Potema's death to even be a possibility. He was blinded by the prospect of the new life she'd bring to even see the dangers of it. To some, it would appear as though Damien didn't care about the well-being of his sister, and although they'd be right to some extent, Damien considered Potema to be strong enough to carry with the responsibility. Besides, she was a healer, trained in the magic arts and knowledgeable about herbs and remedies, she was unlikely to even suffer anyway.

For a moment Damien stood there, speechless, when Potema spoke about her. It was true, she would have stayed there with her daughter and make her days as comfortable as she could. She was amazing like that, a mother not only to her pups but also to every wolf that worked for her, and all were always safe under her guidance. But Damien could never be like that, or at least not so far. Potema's comment had clearly touched a part of Damien that had been secluded for too long, for his pale eyes were suddenly full of sorrow and pain, and the knot in his throat prevented him from even responding.

She did not realize what her words could mean to Damien until they had passed through her lips. Her laughter caught in her throat, ebbing away. Her face became mournful then. She made no semblance of apology, only moving forward and pressing her face against his neck, forgetting that she had just recently puked.

In her embrace Damien felt a familiarity, a warmth, that he thought he would never again experience. He loved her in that moment like never before, and although his lips did not move he made Potema a promise, with the entirety of his heart, that he would protect her and her offspring with his life until his last day. Like they were his own, Potema's sons and daughters would be Damien's legacy. Meldresi's legacy. Blackfeather Woods' future.