Swiftcurrent Creek the road that led us here

he sought out @Dawn this evening, feeling utterly hangdog, but with a large hare dangling from his jaws. it was somewhat the equivalent of a big bouquet of flowers—it didn't erase his relative absence these past weeks, but at least it was something. and she needed to keep her strength up, anyway.

the litter must be arriving sooner rather than later; he'd seen, from afar, her womb fill up, her appearance morph ever so slightly from lithe hunter to expectant mother. she was bigger than ever before, and the sight of her filled him with both excitement and terror. the latter, mostly, in spades.

how could he have done this to her? he knew she wanted pups—that she had been upset at her inability to give him pups, last season. but everything had changed since then, and whatever solid ground they had stood on together last spring was gone, different, eroded. now there was only uncertainty, and how dare he bring not only a good woman into that maelstrom, but children as well?

aditya sighed around the mouthful of hare, trotting along the bank of the stream, eyes peeled for her gray form.

she's come to accept that in this, she will be more or less alone. solitude's something she's become used to, and with the members of Swiftcurrent few and far between, she finds herself missing the life at the Hollow time and again. she is content, however, with her wanderings within the territory. occasionally she ventures near the mountains, and on one of these trips did she discover a scent she could not place, but reminded her dully of the figure within the Vale so long ago. 

besides, she was never completely alone. now, in the late stages of her pregnancy, she could feel them kick. did she want them? this? no. she'd found that answer one morning, and while it didn't cause her the anguish she would have expected (it took a great deal more to do that, now) she felt somewhat removed from the life inside her. she would love them, care for them, but not in the way a mother who'd wanted them so desperately would. 

the relative absence of Aditya had to caused her to truly examine why so desperately she hoped for his return, what they'd had. why she'd followed him. perhaps it was because she sought to identify herself based on their relationship - it was synonymous with good times long gone, and memories she'd not only cherished but idealized. but his love would not bring that back, and chasing it would not either. 

so, ultimately, the mother to be was unwilling, but not unloving. she loved, but no longer so desperately needed that love returned. she'd reached a kind of contentedness, one that was not happiness but alleviated her burdens. she pulled herself from the den she'd etched into the base of an aging oak, making her way towards the creek. she finds Aditya there, fresh from the hunt, and chuffs a neutral greeting. "adi," she offered, muzzle twisting into some slight smile. she pauses, considering him, before moving to slacken her burning thirst; though her attention remains on him.

they found each other at last, and she was pleased enough to see him. . .but still, it would never be like it once was, right? he dropped the hare at her paws and smiled. i thought you might like a bite to eat, adi said warmly, ears canted forward in query. it could only help. their pups wouldn't hurt for nutrients, at least.

how are you feeling? he asked, gaze sweeping down and over the curve of her belly before returning to her face. the pregnancy only added to her beauty, softening the sharp edges ever-so slightly. he would have never described her as 'voluptuous,' but lately she was trending that way. he tried not to ogle too often or obviously. . .but he did look.

he seemed warm, considerate, for someone who had been absent for the past month. but she would not hold it against him, not when she had been through worst. ignoring her swollen sides seemed to be her favoured course of action, and only sometimes did it end badly. speaking of, as she turned toward him and his gift, her sides lit up in twin twinges of pain. her ears flicked back, briefly, but then she dipped her head. "thank you." she would not admit it, but her success in the hunt had taken a sharp plummet. 

she tucks neatly into the rabbit. she's almost constantly hungry, now. "fine," she states, pausing in her meal a moment later. her ears flick back again, and odd expression crosses her features. "they're kicking." in this, she and her young are united; both want to give birth and be born as soon as possible, respectively.

he nodded, accepting her thanks. he knew it wasn't enough. nothing ever would be. he'd impregnated her in a flash of passion, brought them both here. . .and then promptly laid low for the first half of her pregnancy. not to mention everything he'd done before, to her, her family, her allies and friends, and countless others. he had a mountain of things to atone for and not enough years left to climb it.

but he could try, at least.

at her addition to 'fine,' his ears perked, eyes widening slightly. really? he murmured half-rhetorically. does it. . .hurt, at all? do they feel strong? he wondered how many there were, if they were male or female. what would they look like? what would she call them? he certainly had no claim to their names.

she supposed it was rather remarkable - she'd grown life inside her, even if said life caused her no end of discomfort. he seemed fascinated, and while it was true he had no claim to their names, she had no desire to keep them from him. that would entail her raising the lot alone, and she could not imagine herself confined to some den for days, weeks at a time. also, perhaps, because despite how nonchalant she seemed the idea of life relying solely on her was somewhat fear-inducing. 

at his question, she shrugs, experiencing this all for the first time and thus having no comparison for the odd movements. for a moment, she considers, before easing onto her stomach and rolling then slightly to the side. "you can feel them, if you like." it's a subtle gesture, too, that no matter how far apart they've drifted she won't keep him from their young.

he hadn't taken into consideration her lack of history, no frame of reference to which she could compare it. he also didn't consider the fact that she would let him feel them within her; he had all but given up hope of that. his golden eyes widened very slightly, lips parting infinitesimally. yes, he said, after a beat or two of silence. yes, i would.

aditya came close, slowly, like a bomb squad going into the line of duty. very gingerly, he placed a paw upon her distended belly—and felt movement, like fish beneath the surface of water, rippling, pulsing. every so often, a sharper kick!, but more just rolling, tumbling, enjoying their life before this world.

he turned his face to dawn's; his countenance was suffused with wonder. oh, he murmured, a dazed smile coming over his face. subhanallah. he didn't know why he said it, why it came out—he remembered one of his friends long ago would utter the phrase in moments of great beauty, of great joy. it seemed right, in this particular scene. it seemed the only word to express what he felt.

they'll be perfect, adi whispered, removing his paw but not yet placing it on the ground, as if that would spoil the touch of before. they already are, dawn.

he is careful in his approach, but when he felt them stir and kick the wonder that spread across his face was the most genuine she had seen. he was awestruck; something she was decidedly not when she felt them pummel her from the inside. this she attributed to the fact she the bore the brunt of the discomfort they brought, but it did not stop a wary, unbidden smile from twisting up the corners of her muzzle. 

she eases back up to her haunches when he withdraws, not sure quite how to respond to his words. his reaction eases something within her - whether it be nerves, or a fear of failure, she does not know, but it prompts her to offer a small grin. "of course they'll be - just look at their parents." mirth glints briefly in her gaze, and then it turns downward and she huffs. she more amiable in the moment, especially with the prospect of more rabbit to consume, and wonders aloud, "how much longer, do you think?" 

it was one of the first moments of levity between them in quite a long time. he leaned into it, savoring those precious seconds, reveling in her smile. captivated by it, like a moth drawn to the light. her question had gone unanswered for a few beats before he came to himself again, shrugging, his grin growing sheepish.

i'm not sure. probably the wrong wolf to ask, adi teased, shifting on his paws. i'm new to this, too. but. . .soon, perhaps? he ventured a guess, glancing at her belly. they were moving quite a bit, and dawn had grown large. it must be soon, else she'd pop. worst-case scenario, right there.

he seems to know that same about this as she, which is to say next to nothing. "they'd better," she grumbles, and is certain she'll be thoroughly unimpressed if they take any longer than 'soon'. she wants to know where he's been, but that would imply she wants him close, and she's already decided she can handle this more or less on her own. she can rely on Rosalie, she knows. 

"any luck recruiting?" her own attempts have been less than substantial, and the fatter she gets the less useful she feels as a potential recruiter.

he shook his head in rueful fashion, gaze skimming the ground as his smile faded. not at all, adi murmured, feeling thoroughly useless. he returned his eyes to dawn, brow furrowed. it feels emptier here than it did before, dawn. when we lived on the plains and in the maplewood, i felt like there were always lone wolves about. i hardly see them, now.

he suppose it wasn't all bad. there was plenty of game, the scenery was beautiful, and kavik and alessia ran a good pack. but he wished their ranks were that much bigger. he wished he could live up to the expectations placed upon his shoulders upon entrance to swiftcurrent.

perhaps it will change, when winter comes and wolves grow desperate, he said pensively. for now, we'll get by. we always have. he shot dawn a smile, unsure of whether he more meant to encourage her or himself.

she nods solemnly, somewhat relieved that they are in the same boat but fearing the future should they both fail in their only task. "I'm tired of getting by." she admits, and regrets it. it is selfish to admit it aloud, but she longs for the early days still. she knows they are gone, but she only hopes she can find something like them. 

she stands, pulling the remainder of the catch towards her. "thanks, Adi." with that, she moves further along the river, beelining to the same spot she'd met Rosalie a week prior.