Whitebark Stream I'll unwrap my fingers, free my foot and run away

in an airport and on mobile - please excuse any errors until I can get home and correct them! <3

The pains had been ignored much of the morning. They were nothing like she remembered, and knew that the later stages of her pregnancy would not be without discomfort. But suddenly, starkly, things changed. The surge, the pain became familiar, strengthened and sent her back toward the den. The woman wavered a moment at the entrance, suddenly overcome by uncertainty. She ought to call for @Artyom -- and yet, she remembered the horrors, the failurea of her first birth. And she loved him, cared for him too deeply to fail him in this. 

In the end, another surge of pain sent her into the dark comfort of the den. In this, she would be alone. She remembers clearly the blood, the hurt, those tiny bodies. Sharp fear burns along her spine, and somewhere in her mind she wonders if this comes to soon.

Minutes pass, and hour. The she-wolf labours, and though the pain is familiar, as is the fear, the adrenaline, that ripping pain does not come, nor the blood and bile. When the first child comes, rather, it is with sureity that she draws the boy toward her, clearing away the birth sac and waiting, breathlessly, for the first draw of his tiny lungs. And he breathes, and her fear crests and breaks.

The others come quickly then -- those that will one day be named @Frost, @Storm and @Juniper. And each draws breath, and is perfect, and her racing heart slows. Four -- she draws them close, curling tightly around her perfect children, and with wavering, tired howl calls for their father.

He hovered, anxious, though dared not enter the hollow. Though he longed to be close to his mate and encourage her through the delivery, support her with all he could give, Dawn had not requested his presence within the whelping den. Artyom, knowing well enough that she would seek him if she required assistance, did not want to disrespect her wish for privacy with intrusion. He naturally worried, though sourced some small comfort in recalling that the ashen Alphess had been through this before.

The recent demise of Salvatore, the disappearance of Connor, the return of wayward Kavik - these thoughts and the whirlwind of emotion to accompany each of them was promptly forced to the back of Artyom's mind as a summons came from the burrow over which he guarded. He gathered to his ivory paws and padded closer and ears pricked forward as he held his breath, listened for the gentle coo of newborns. Artyom moved inside, a whole new feeling quickening the beat of his already racing heart as his gaze took in the scene before him: Dawn, his Dawn, presenting to him the most wonderful gift she could've given.

Their children, each as perfect as the other, and Artyom stared at all four tiny pups as though they might disappear should he dare to blink.

Words failed him when at last he sought the sterling leader's lovely features, yet the glimmer of his watery eyes would communicate the overwhelming adoration he'd come to feel for her. With a croon he ducked his crown to press his gilded brow to that of his companion, pressed a feather light kiss atop her snout, then settled in near to her so he might gaze longingly at their litter over her slackened shoulders.

There's not really a whole lot to say about Frost Whitebark's birth. At least, not from his perspective. One minute he was warm, happy and relaxed and the next, he was shooting down a water slide he was pretty sure he hadn't bought a ticket for with his siblings. He didn't so much like that part and he let that be known within a few seconds of landing in the world by voicing a chorus of what can only be described as his impression of a dying car alarm.

Frost's moment of misery was over pretty quickly though, not that the pup had any concept of time to help him recognize this fact. All he knew was that in this most recent moment, he was warm, happy and relaxed again. He had suddenly and inexplicably found himself nestled at his mother's side, having a drink at the titty bar with the other water park patrons. His former experiences were thusly forgotten, as would this experience be in the next few minutes when he fell victim to the oncoming milk coma he was greedily guzzling his way to.

Winter Whitebark's entrance into the world did not come swiftly, but thankfully without trauma. The first to be delivered, he was content to have his fill of milk and bask in the entirety of his mother's attention. Warm, fat and happy, the tiny ashen cub nuzzled his way between willing, loving arms where he the sound of a familiar heartbeat lull him to sleep.

He did not know when the womb-sharers arrived to join this little party in the real world, but their presence at his flanks brought him greater comfort. With a happy little coo, the downy-furred pup bundled himself among them, seeking the warmth and weight of them that he'd known his entire life.

Storm Whitebark was coaxed into consciousness by Dawn's grooming. She stirred under her mother's touch, feeling overwhelmed suddenly by the sheer notion of awareness; all she could think to do was to produce a heartbreaking wail with her first breath. Once adequately cleaned, Storm was placed at Dawn's side, surrounded by those who had kept her company in utero. 

Calmed by both the warmth of her company and the aroma of milk, Storm's cries were subdued to gentle, pleasing grunts as she scooted closer to Dawn's side. Following the scent, she found a teat and feasted greedily. Milk spilled from out of the corners of Storm's mouth, streaming down her body; the mess did not deter her from eating. Concluding her meal only when she was entirely satisfied with her fill, Storm quieted. 

Repositioning herself amongst her siblings, and resting her head upon @Winter's back, Storm fell asleep; life wasn't so bad, after all.

birth is a simple thing for the cream-tinted pup, all things considered. Everything, preceded by nothing. Instinct is a guiding hand she, like all those before her, does not stray from. Hunger is sated by the teat she moves to find, the warmth tempers discomfort, and sleep puts an end to exhaustion. Her needs are met neatly, and presently, it is all the newest addition to the Whitebark family requires. Each day ahead will hold so much more than her very first, and already, she slumbers.

Concluding this.  :)

Together they rested quietly, and Artyom basked in the glow of his new family. He could barely keep his eyes from the four tiny bodies of his children, though occasionally his gaze stole away to look upon his mate's lovely features and shoot her an adoring smile.

He loved them. He loved her, and he felt it pulse right at the heart of him. Dawn had given Artyom everything he'd only dared to dream of, and his appreciation was apparent in each happy sweep of his ivory plume. Content to lie there with her as she drifted off for some well-earned sleep, he quietly observed their offspring and considered what they might call them and how they'd brightened his entire world in an instant.