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She didn't know what to expect when the first ripple of cold anxiety overwhelmed her blood; the body's solution to cope with the initial flutter of undulating pain which heralded the start of labor. Tuwawi was used to change, but not like this. Over the past months her body had stretched to capacity in order to cradle the Sveijarn babes as they grew strong. Their small mother happily shouldered such a weight, proud to carry her and Njal's legacy and love. Soon, she knew, their children would be the apple of their eye and the creek's as well. Though the past few weeks had been tumultuous between Bones' abduction and Jace and Ferdie's exile, Tuwawi was still confident in the creek's prowess and Fox's leadership.
The ember mother tended to fret over her husband more and more, concerned for his well-being as he led patrols to secure the borders. Most recently, the Northerner had departed towards Sunspire to intercept the newest pack crafted by their once brothers, and in this twilight hour his wife could not know Njal's whereabouts. She never stepped far from their burrow, aware that something had changed when her precious parcel sunk low within her abdomen. Slowly her temperature dropped, and when the first contraction shot through her sides, the creek's gamma crept into their home for privacy and seclusion.
Instincts went into overdrive. There was no howl to announce that the children had decided it was time to enter the world. Nature insisted on silence, as to not welcome danger at their doorstep during this vulnerable time. Fear, panic, and uncertainty were second in Tuwawi's scope, too focused on the task at hand to truly reflect upon her situation. She shuffled and coiled, shifting from position to position uncomfortably as her body began to squeeze and twist in preparation for birth.
A long time passed between midnight and the early morning while the waves of pain grew stronger; Tuwawi wanting to push but feeling the time had not come just yet. It wasn't until the sky lightened to a downy grey did the real work begin, the soon-to-be mother already exhausted by this plight. She panted rapidly, a groan or whine eeking from her jaws every time her muscles rippled until the hour was at hand, a ray of yellow dappling into the foyer of the den. The first child was a difficult one, and her journey into the world was long and arduous. The tang of blood mixed in the air - something torn within the mother - but still she endeavored, agonizing push after push until she slipped onto the warm deerskin Bazi had gifted. Tuwawi turned to regard the large puppy still curled in its sack, and she began to clean her first infant, a daughter, until she mewled and wailed hungry for her first meal. Like all pups, the child was a sooty gray however bold and dauntless as she blindly crawled to her mother's side, guided by warm and loving caresses until she latched onto a teat and suckled aggressively. The child could not see her parent's quaking shivers or feel the cold sweat upon her brow. Truly, this was not an easy birth by any measure... yet it did not stop a small, but weak, smile from Tuwawi's lips, impressed by her child's vitality. She had expected nothing less.
A small period of rest was granted following the first offspring, allowing Tuwawi a reprieve to refocus her energy and tend to herself and the first child. However, it was not long until the second was on its way... the already familiar pain of labor amplifying exponentially until it was time to push once more. Tuwawi's back arched and limbs moored as she held her breath, bearing down forcefully. Like the first, the second was large, and even the ember's robust figure offered no fortification from her northern blooded children. Whatever virgin flesh had rend split further, but the maiden did not cry out. Gritted teeth and suspended breath sustained her until the second was welcomed into the den's darkness, large like the first but visibly leaner. It was a boy, their first son, sandy like a stormy beach. Gingerly she cleaned him, his sister always squealing every time their mother shifted away, until his fur was free of fluid, dry, and coiffed. He was not as ambitious as the first; a bit slower to find the milk bar but equally determined. Tuwawi's figured curled around her small brood and constantly inspected them for signs of weakness or defects - but nothing showed. They were perfect, healthy, and borderline angelic.
There were no pause between the second and third; new contractions began immediately and more intense the longer Tuwawi took with her delivery. Nature egged her on, hurrying the mother to not savor the moments, lest damage those yet to be born. With another push the third child was greeted by her mother's seeking muzzle, cleaning vigorously to stir the sleeping babe. It had been easier, their newest daughter smaller than the siblings before her, but the Sveijarn matriarch loved her from the start. Auburn hair quickly revealed itself unlike her kin's more tepid colors. She was the rowdiest yet, even surpassing the firstborn, and equally vocal. She squealed for attention, and Tuwawi was happy to oblige, leading the pup to her stomach to indulge in first supper.
The new mother wondered if she was done - if that was it. Pain in her sides continued, however duller than before. Tuwawi was tired - exhausted - and the weary look in her gunmetal eyes was enough to understand the energy she had expended. Three healthy and squirming pups fought at her side for the best seat at the table, softly whimpering as they drank. She cooed to them, fascinated by the life she had produced and dreamed of what they would become. These thoughts were interrupted by a sharp pain, and Swiftcurrent's phoenix soon felt the need to push for the last time. His way into the world, though already forged by his siblings, was wrought with difficulty, and Tuwawi struggled with delivering the final child. Urgency began to set in, and she stood abruptly to get a better handle on a necessary posture. The three star-children cried, upset at being disturbed so suddenly, but it was necessary, and an apologetic look was all Tuwawi could manage though it made no difference. Her mouth was agape, breaths heavy, and sides heaved with effort. Eventually, he relented and the second son, and final child, was guided into her embrace.
He was a small, pale thing, and barely cried as she washed him, but he was adored. Tuwawi nestled him besides the others, who had found their places once again, and settled as the last shivers of pain wracked her body until labor ceased completely. A great wave of relief and content flooded the new mother; it helped numb the pain and exhaustion. Endorphins were a beautiful thing. Though blood coated her rear, whatever internal wound had occurred began to clot, and a perfume of milk shrouded the unpleasant aroma. Tuwawi's lids sagged and her head rolled onto the dusty floor. However, her ears remained pricked and vigilant. No danger was too great if it meant protecting her new family's life.
Sleep wanted to claim her, as tired as she was, but nerves kept Tuwawi awake. She was alone, and the only defense between the outside and the yet unnamed Sveijarn children. Hopefully, Njal would soon return from his patrol, and they could be together once again. Until then, The new mother patiently waited in the dark of their den as dawn crested the horizon. A new and glorious day awaited.
It was finally time to leave the comfort of the fiery female's womb and head out to the world outside. The real world. As much as the little creature enjoyed the security of her mother, something inside of her tiny body told her it was time to move, she had always been a calm one in the womb, never kicking her poor mother's belly or squirming like most of her siblings, she often spend her growing days just sleeping, but today she could not keep her tiny paws from flailing about.
When her turn finally came, the delicate little girl tried to resist, not knowing what wonderful world was waiting for her outside. The pint-sized girl with the same red coat as her mother. A tiny babe with a coat as fiery as her spirit. She was received with a shower of rythmical kisses carefully implanted on her head and back,causing a glorious wave of comfort and peace to sweep over her.
As soon as Tuwawi's gentle licks stopped, the girl whimpered as if to demand more. Suddenly she was pushed forward where a huge wall reeking of warmth and food greeted her. Instinctively the babe clung to her mother's teat, suckling slowly as she began to fall asleep -again.
She was completely oblivious to what was going on around her, she just cared about eating at the moment, so while she sucked gently on her mother's teat and sleep began to take ahold of her body, the little infant's body began to slide off. She laid there curled against her mother's warm belly until she stood up to deliver her other brother. The babe stretched her tiny paws as her mother's body disappeared from her side, and gave confused whimper as she could not find her oversized pillow.
![[Image: girl_gang.png]](https://image.ibb.co/b82KNa/girl_gang.png)
The last to arrive proved to be the greatest struggle, as the kiln of her distended belly shuddered and quaked with effort. He was alive but did not know it; the word, the sensation of being brought in to the world, sent the final Sveijarn in to a state of shock. He was quiet even as Tuwawi extruded him. Fur slick with a glaze of birthing fluids, dust of the den, and errant fur that had attached itself upon his entry in to the world, he was a mess of particulate; a composite of mountain and fire just like his older siblings. A fine piece of kneaded clay in the shape of a fuzzy mound eventually took shape.
As Tuwawi administered her tired tongue across his body and busied herself with cleaning him, rousing him from whatever stupor that consciousness granted him, the child barely made a sound. He whistled through his clogged nose, sucked air, and was gradually introduced to the warmth of her neighboring body. The suckling sound of his siblings went unnoticed, but the slightest motion, the subtle jostle of a brother or sister nearby, caused the pudgy blob to refuse Tuwawi's teat; he would latch on with his gums for a few moments, then a nudge or vibration from nearby would spook the newborn in to a gap-mouthed, silent squeak. Eventually he would adjust to this, as they all would adapt to the new life before them.
The final Sveijarn burrowed against his mother's belly with her urging, and rested.
Muscles moved and contracted, and the second child was lulled into a dream-like state; motionless as to not complicate the great pressure he felt. It did not hurt, and his young body was pliable enough to withstand the force. Suddenly, his mother's seeking tongue roused him from the dreams and the bite of cold morning air stung his barely receptive nerves. At first, he squeaked, gulping in great breaths of air as newborn lungs adjusted for life outside his mother, and then a great scream ushered forth. Yes... these squalling cries were perfect to alert that he was alive and strong. Tuwawi gently jostled him, rolling back and forth to clean every nook and corner of his tiny body despite the howls of resistance. Toes wiggled, and arms kicked out as she nipped at the umbilical cord to sever the last sign of birth and eventually his velveteen hair was warm and dry, shining like a polished stone. Only then did the warm breath of his dam lull him close to her belly, where a first meal awaited.
Though cerulean eyes were sealed tight behind zippered lids, there was no mistaking the savory aroma of milk, something which instinct demanded he obtained immediately. He flailed and crawled with feeble limbs, encouraged on by his provider, until the sensation of hot skin and downy fur signaled that he had finally arrived. With crooning chuffs he searched for a free nipple, and instantly latched on with a strong grip once found. Already there was another body besides him, he could tell, but her presence did not deter the young prince from suckling greedily, the taste was sweet and texture rich. His belly swelled with each gulp, but nature urged him to drink, to taste the colostrum necessary for healthy growth.
Things weren't calm for a while. Tuwawi constantly shifted, making things difficult for the newborns and though the young child complained every time, he earnestly did not mind; for Tuwawi was always quick to pacify her children and ensure them food once again. Eventually the world around him settled, and everything became calm. The small babe became weary with his adventure, overwhelmed by all the new experiences, and fell into a deep sleep with the teat still gripped tight between toothless gums.
The fallout of his visit to the Sunspire had not occurred yet, and Njal trusted in the threats the two fools had given him. Their incursion upon the cliff-side had left him nervous. He returned to the creek with his companions and they dispersed, off to attend to further duties. He was no different. The urge to march around the territory was great, and so he went off as soon as the creek came in to view—moving along the river's edge, around the sparse tree line, northward until shallows came in to view. As his path wove towards the den he shared with Tuwawi, he became alerted to a scent upon the air... And this, coupled with the furious devotion that had risen within him since returning, prompted the warden to launch in to a run. As tired as he was (physically, mentally,) Njal was filled with a new kind of adrenaline.
He arrived at the den within minutes of the last birth, but he didn't know. The scent of blood and fluid was overwhelming, and at first he was afraid to look inside. He paced near the mouth of the den, glancing away from the entrance whenever a sound broke the stillness of the area. When he finally gathered his thoughts and untangled a bit of the rat's nest that had become of his nerves, Njal dipped his nose in to the darkness. There was a scent under the blood that was familiar, of course. Tuwawi's musk was inviting enough. But what caught his attention was another, newer scent. He drifted closer, careful not to step upon the bundles that were so carefully arranged.
As soon as his eyes fell upon them, Njal sucked in a sharp breath—releasing it slowly, while his eyes grew wide. His mouth opened as if to speak, but not a sound came out. The Russian's brain could not fathom words, but the look within his eyes as they trailed from the children to his wife spoke volumes.
Stilted breaths finally became even as a wave of calm washed over the new family who were squirreled away in the safety of the Sveijarn burrow. The young nursed at Tuwawi's side, all gulping down their first supper with fervor, except her second son. He was a fickle boy, and any movement easily disturbed him. Tuwawi cooed to him, gently lapping at his downy hair to encourage feeding. Instinct knew that the first few days of life were crucial, and it was important that he eat his fill. The new mother was still as pond water, attentive and vigilant as the small pups fed from her — a new sensation indeed, but one that strengthened the bonds between them. She loved them all... and the bright, but soft gaze in her eyes regarded them endearingly. Every movement, every sound was charted despite her weary body and mind; and her heartbeat thrummed in time with the four new, precious lives nestled next to her belly.
A shuffling sound outside alerted Tuwawi soon after they had all settled in. She flinched, and coiled her body tight around the babies, legs folding over in a guarded manner. Ruddy ears twisted to try and decipher the source, but a familiar alpine scent was received first. It was Njal, returned from his patrols. Quietly he slunk into the heart of the burrow, his impressive figure stepping with utmost caution. Tuwawi's tail thrummed hard against the ground, relieved and overjoyed at his arrival. Her muzzle learned in an attempt to kiss his chin, but he was too far off the ground to be reached. The love in her mate's golden eyes was evident, and Tuwawi swore she had never seen his expression so incredulous... so soft... so caring before.
The wonder in the den was palpable, and Tuwawi looked to her lover with starry eyes. Never had she fathomed the stark northerner and fiery yearling, who had met in kindred, would take each other to such great heights. From Seahawk, to Chinook, to Teekon; blessed with life, love, passion, and now children. Together they had brought new lives into the world, and together they would raise them.
Of course, once her other siblings started to arrive, it was an altogether different story. Jökull did not like the jostling bodies at her sides, but she stood her ground and nursed with a vengeance. Mine. Being deaf and blind, there was not much she could do to identify her brothers and sisters. Her sense of smell had some developing to do, among other things. Yet blood did not matter, her mind too formative and pitiless for such topics. All that did know for certain was the warmed, sweet taste of her dam's nourishment sliding down her throat in ravening clumps.
Sibling and parent alike would be subject to her infantile tyranny in weeks to come. Because she is a warrior princess, and nothing will stand in her way. She establishes this fact with slumbrous rumbles and petty thrusts of her plump body, aiming to exact her say-so through postnatal physicality. She has some growing to do. Until then, she is just biding her time...She had her father's bullheadedness and her mother's fierceness to thank for such spontaneous ideas (or were they just imaginings?).
Fresh from the womb and Jökull was ready to leave her mark on this world, for better or for worse. But now? Now she was stringent, irate at her mother's jostling body, coming to a stand so as to bring the youngest into this world. Vibrations – outcries for the return of Tuwawi's milk and heat – brought forth a screaky grumble from Jökull. Tuwawi is an attentive mother, returning soon enough. The argent Sveijarn went back to nursing with a vengeance; worrying her mother's teat with ineffective jowls. Sleep would threaten to overtake her, yet a rush of gelidity coursed through her downy fur. Foreign...but comforting all the same. Who cast a loving shadow over her brothers and sister? She wished to know, but the milk was so good and warm and the northern wind could wait.
They shared an expression of utmost wonder as the two parents gazed upon their new creations; Tuwawi looked far more exhausted, but the glow of motherhood was most appealing. He didn't know what to do, and so Njal only stared. He watched the tiny bodies of their children wriggle, eat, and slumber. The sounds they made were tiny things. Njal lowered himself carefully against the opposite wall of the den so that he could lay low and watch, his face on his paws, the awed expression unwavering from his features.
"Two sons and two daughters," Tuwawi relayed to him. As she uncurled from around the chirping newborns, the new father began to creep closer. He dragged himself with a slow crawl towards them, and extended his boxy face—carefully examining with the wet chill of his nose. Committing their fresh scents to memory. In the process Njal's nose touched down upon the youngest boy's belly, which caused him to squawk and roll in resistance to the sensation; in the same vein, Njal's features lit up in to a pleased smile.
"I love you." She reached towards him and with a slight lift of his chin, he was able to touch her snout with his own. A soft lick was placed upon her muzzle, and then he simply perched himself there within her proximity. I love you too, all of you.
Pulling closer, he was then able to wrap a foreleg around the back of Tuwawi's resting body. The other sat crookedly against the bodies of the babies, creating a gunmetal wall. When next Tuwawi spoke Njal's brow furrowed, but not in anger. He pondered what exactly to call them.
The first child to catch his eye was the largest, and that drew his attention. This one... He has been touched by the north. A little glacier.
As Njal spoke he reached for the child, inspecting him, and in that moment, realizing he had been mistaken. Oh, a girl? Then... Our little Jokull.
While she drank her fill, Njal pulled back to gaze upon Tuwawi.
He was distracted as one of the boys suddenly rolled his pudgy self up against his extended limb. The beige child, still gumming at the air, kicked with one of his back legs prior to folding up against his mother. And this one, touched by your fire.
The yellow of the boy's face was sparse, but as Njal adjusted himself so that light could peek in through the den mouth, he caught sight of it. Larus.
Bazi strayed near the Sveijarn den quite by chance whilst zigzagging across Swiftcurrent Creek in the early hours of dawn. The Sunspire's long shadow had birthed a paranoia that had taken up residence in her heart, driving the young Beta to patrol incessantly around and across their woefully exposed home. The flatness of it was both a disadvantage and a plus - they would see the enemy coming, but there was nothing stopping them from coming in the first place.
Tuwawi's labour was long over when Bazi neared, and Njal had recently returned from his own patrols. The scent of him hung in the air where his body had been, and she followed it to within a hundred meters of the dark den. She sunk to her haunches here, her back to the entrance and keen eyes roving over the flat horizon.
Thoughts turned to the impending birth when suddenly, unbelievably, a high-pitched mewling escaped into the morning. Bazi nearly twisted her own head off turning towards the sound, and only averted a crick by twisting backwards, cat-like, and flopping to the ground. A second, thin little voice responded to the first, and she heard Njal's low bass murmur something incomprehensible. Creek children.. The very first - safely delivered.
The ghostly outrider climbed swiftly to her feet, grinning like a fool. She would guard the privacy of this moment for them, though it was near impossible to focus on the possibility of danger when happiness radiated from the birthing den like the heat of a tiny, fierce little sun.
Comfort and security ushered a calm over Tuwawi when Njal drew close, positioning himself above the precious family to guard it from the dangers of the world. With her nerves easing, and the strenuous work of childbirth over, the Sveijarn dam could already feel herself being lulled into dreamland. It wasn't fair to Njal, who had only just returned from patrol, but it could not be helped. Her body was week and she needed strength.
The ember blinked slowly as Njal named two of his children. Jökull, the firstborn... slate grey and platinum like her father. Not an ounce of Tuwawi's dusty browns or playful vermilion had touched her offspring's coat, though perhaps it was too easy to tell... for the markings on all the children were mottled to some degree. Njal had been surprised she was a girl, and it Tuwawi grin. Surely this child would be strong in body and spirit... what every parent wanted. The smallest boy was named next, Lárus, his golden face already shinning next to his granite colored body.
Two were left, but already Tuwawi had a few names in mind. She studied the younger daughter, deep red all over with a sooty back. She was smitten by this child, created in the image of her mother.
After colliding a couple of times with her own siblings,she joined in with her own whimpers, and suddenly the proud father was greeted by a little orchestra of the infants' cries. While her mother spoke to him, the little unnamed girl tried to find again her mother's teat, but after a few seconds without luck she shrieked with frustraton. Her whole body began to wiggle and with a final outburst of energy she headbutted against the her older brother, Valtýr, without knowing she was interrupting the little boy from his sleep.
Then as named were assigned, the fire colored newborn gave a tiny grunt of despair as she failed miserably to find her mother's belly again. But soon every feeling of defeat left her little body, only to be replaced by an overwhelming sense of somnolence that forced Maera to sleep.