Moonspear are we awake, or are we asleep?

babies first, please! @Altair @Caelum @Mira @Mintaka

 

The time had come. 

She was grateful for it; the matriarch had been within her whelping den for the entirety of the day, if not more than that. Knowing from the last year that movement helped, Hydra emerged from the whelping den and took a brief jaunt with @Lyra and @Alya. The former was her midwife, the latter her support and coach in this despite having never given birth herself. It was good she was here this year, for this one. She could see and hear for herself the way a child could destroy, too, but seconds from the womb. 

And then, how all the pain endured from it would be worth it. 

Perhaps it was the not being here the last year that made Alya decline the opportunity this year; perhaps it was that she wanted the opportunity to be an aunt, first, seen from the moment their eyes could open. Whatever it was, Hydra supported her. Whenever she was ready, she would be ready... 

Such thoughts precluded her own epiphany, as they headed back. The moon was full, as it had been the last year. It was with a start that Hydra picked up the pace, and not a moment too soon. Immediately after slipping into the whelping den, Altair was brought into the world. It had been, unquestionably, the easiest birth, and without any pains. Hydra was swift in doing as instinct bid, removing the sac and cleaning him. She nosed him toward her breast, and soon the heads of not one but two sisters peered into the birthing den. The rumble that came from her was halfhearted. Lyra would help, and if Hydra died in this grueling process, Alya would be a mother, too. 

The ache that overcame her then grounded her. The work that went into the next birth was no quick, simple thing. She pushed and heaved, got up to pace and stretch. Later rather than sooner, @Mintaka came into the world. A beautiful little thing, and Hydra thought on how Vega now had her very first sister. Her heart warmed as she groomed her, but once more the pains started. Of all her cubs, Mintaka was the most unique in appearance... but no less loved for it. 

Though it was a long and arduous process, soon enough, @Caelum was brought into the universe. As she looked to him, and cleansed him, Hydra's tail waved. Another baby boy. Each of her own were precious and favored for different reasons, but she thrilled for more. The pain ceased, for a little while, but Hydra knew she was not yet finished. Still, she dozed off for her precious moments of peace that she might have. The process was far longer than the last year, though she was no worse off for it. It was the same, but... different. 

She arose when pain rippled through her. She groaned, looking to her belly, and then lower still. Now came the fourth, and final. It was quick enough, for all of the waiting, which in truth had not been for longer than natural. But once @Mira emerged, Hydra felt tired. Cleaning her, and placing her where she belonged, Hydra sighed. Each babe to her breast, she felt a wonderful calm overtake her. Again she had done this thing, bring four miracles into the world. Their world. She looked to Lyra and Alya, and asked, howl; let the pack know. Call Dirge, she asked, but she felt sure he was near without needing to ask. He had been watchful as of late, and she knew why. Wrapping around their children, and the present future of Moonspear, Hydra felt content, and as though she could sleep for days.

When life came to take her to the world beyond, Mira sat ready on a dark chariot; the princess who drummed her fingers and twiddled her toes and thumbs waiting for this moment. She was eager to make her way out. Snake soul writhed within her, coiling around her heart and squeezing it dry of feeling; she was made completely bone and flesh in that instant as the red organ shriveled within, then thrummed with sudden life.

Mira hungered for the milk of her mother and found it soon enough, greedily drinking her fill with an insatiable thirst. Beside her lay others whom she paid no mind. Only in the days to come would she learn what competition they were.

Quite the opposite to the dark princess, the peculiar child awaited in thrilled excitement, lit up like the supermoon she was born beneath. In the future, she would dance and sing and express herself in all ways jovial and joyous, but for now, as she broke free of her amniotic sac and was dried by her mother's tongue, she could only make indecipherable noise. Soft, light chirrups and twitters, attempts at communication before she was even aware of what communication was.

Soon, the little being would be settled at her mother's stomach, inhaling colostrum like it was her job. And for now, it was - the storytelling would come later.

A stoic shadow between two sisters that shone bright like stars in their beings, the dark boy did not stir when he was born. Silence marked him, and one might be worried that something was wrong with him, as he was not very vocal. He did not cry as he was brought into the world or cleaned. He simply was.

The next days would be marked with equal stoicism; he was not a fussy child and seemed easy enough to be handled, although he would not allow himself to be pushed away either.

Comparatively to his siblings, Altair came into the world to scream.

From his first breath, he found his voice to decree a protest against the violence in change. But his screams—squeaks, really; how he mewled—were not mighty and fell on deaf ears; he was easily silenced by the solution to hunger and necessity of comfort. There was familiarity to being nestled tightly against his siblings once more, but a uncertain vastness that lurked in an ever expanding universe. This too, he would adapt to in time, but he would be heard, again and again in a rallying cry.

The time had come upon them so quickly, Lyra felt it had been only yesterday that Hydra had brought her first litter into the world. Now here they were, awaiting a second batch with bated breath, hoping - no, knowing - all would be well and the newest lives to be added to their ever expanding family would be healthy and strong. The trio of sisters moved together as Hydra worked to bring about her young and, as she and Alya spoke, Lyra watched, aware of every minute uncharacteristic movement and hitch of breath that told her the time was near.

Soon enough, it was.

Within moments of Hydra disappearing into the darkness of the den, the helpless, screeching cries of a babe rung out, causing the two guardians outside to pause and peer into the den. Still working off the sac he had arrived in the world in, they watched as their sister helped her new son take his first breaths. Lyra sent a questioning look to her Alpha, one that asked if she needed medicine for the pain. A soft shake of the head was all that was needed in response, and the two sisters withdrew to leave Hydra to deliver the rest of her litter in peace.

It was a long process and would likely take most of the night. Like sharks, Lyra and Alya circled outside the whelping den, dark fur on end, eyes catching the light of the super moon above as they watched for any intruder who would dare set foot near their beloved while she was at her most vulnerable. Not to mention the precious newborns she was working so hard to bring into the world.

Finally, after the muffled squeaks and cries and grunts had settled, the two sisters once again retreated to the den, wordless in their question for Hydra: are you okay? She looked to them, and for all the pain she had just endured and the consequent tiredness, she was still just as domineering and stoic as ever. Lyra's features lit up, a rare smile filled with warmth spreading across her maw. Everything had gone well; Moonspear had been blessed with four new healthy lives.

Moving to the clearing once more, the twins mirrored each other as they sent up the howl, announcing the birth of the new litter and asking the pack to lend their voice in celebration. @Dirge, in particular, was summoned, though they knew he would be lurking somewhere not far off but wisely not in sight. Now, he could safely approach.

The sisters were right in thinking that he was close—he had been, for some time. Whether it was simply dumb luck or some inexplicable, innate perception that something was unfolding he had possessed the sense to find where Hydra had intended to whelp. He had found the rough location only a few days prior, but the lurking done by the other two had helped him hone in on its location.

This year, they lingered too close for him to answer his own questions.

From his sequestered vantage, they were nothing more than two dark sprites that flickered in and out of view. From behind trees or dense clumps of thick grasses they would appear, loiter briefly, and phase back out. He was too far to hear the cries of any babes there, too far to have called out gently to either Lyra or Alya or both to gain insight. Not that they would have shared; they knew no more than he would for a time, if not barely anything else.

He left them, once, if only to settle himself.

In a time like this, he could not abide by stillness; it were as though suddenly having to be apart from Hydra was more curse than blessing. The borders would be too far off to distract him so he had patrolled a wider range than the sisters would, carving a lazy, distracted semi-circle through dip and rise alike. It was in the curve back that he found @Vega and soon had her company to occupy him with questions and answers, the things that she could anticipate.

At that point, the two took up roost where he had been prior, lying in the grass with prolonged states of silence until one of them broke it. She asked if he had done the same when she and her siblings had been born; he told her that he had, that the setup had been very much like the one they were presented with. Her aunts to keep watch and to guard the closest and how he had stayed further out to do the same. How Vega and her siblings no doubt aided this cause, even if for the moment they simply lied in wait.

Perhaps true to his nature, he did not tell her that his lingering was not so prolonged, or that he had wormed his way up towards the den mouth until he was close enough to find his own answers, how he had been close enough and smart enough to scurry away when Alya had spotted him last moment in his retreat. Or even that he had been closer in his wait last year than this one for that reason—the experience had been enriching for him in just how tolerant her mother and her aunts were not. For once, Dirge had not been able to charm his way. And thus, he had not tried this year.

Through the cover, he realized in his recollection that the pacing sisters had stopped. Neither had passed through his line of sight for what seemed a beat too long, nor did they appear when he hastily rose from his place on the grassy knoll. Inquisitive as his features willingly twisted, he found himself locked there only because Vega had rose beside him, her gaze shifting between him and the point in the moonlit world he had fixated on.

Her mouth opened to ask another question, but was cut off by Lyra’s summon.

He ventured on with his daughter in tow for a spell, at least until Lyra’s cutting figure was joined by Alya and he felt his own gait slow in approach. Wanting to spare Vega from a scornful tongue, he stopped altogether and turned to her to ward her off gently: “Wait here, and watch for your brothers.” He didn’t know how quickly to expect them, but he imagined that @Osiris would be lingering close by, perhaps with @Antares or @Atlas too. No doubt they had conferred among themselves—Vega had found him, after all.

Once that was out of the way, he approached more cautiously, though more towards Lyra—Alya seemed to be keen on keeping watch for the others. Fair enough, he determined; he thought he had a better chance of information in going to the one sibling that did seem a bit fonder of him. The same acrid aroma struck him where they intersected, and his gaze stole away to the lip of the den where it sunk steadily into the earth. It did not linger there long before he brought it to her to hold her imploringly, gently.

“Tell me,” he asked of her in sotto voce—he did not hear the cry of babes, who by then were content and fed. The silence was disquieting, the thrum of his own pulse loud in his ears. His was a worry to remain until he would be afforded opportunity to see them for himself.

Like Dirge and Vega, Osiris had been somewhat nearby when Lyra had announced the birth of his younger siblings; he had been anticipating this moment since Hydra had told him about her pregnancy. He had been in the middle of a nightshift along the northeastern boundaries when the news came, tending to the markers and keeping an eye out for any unwanted visitors. Without a second thought, Osiris abandoned his post and raced towards Hydra's whelping den. 

He found Vega in the clearing, a safe distance from where Dirge and the den was. Although he wanted to join their father, he read the scene correctly; they were not allowed and had to wait outside. 

"Hey," he greeted his sister. 
"Hey," she said in reply. 
Sitting next to Vega, Osiris took a moment to catch his breath. 
"So, do you know anything about them?" he asked. "Names? Genders?" 
Vega smirked, amused by her brother's excitement. "Nothing yet. I'm sure Dad will tell us once he's able." 
Osiris nodded. He sat then, and sighed; they were in it for the long-haul. He would wait as long as it took to get any information. 

A silence settled between the siblings, the air around them buzzing with anticipation. Osiris couldn't help but wonder where Antares and Atlas were, and he kept a lookout for them as well.

Final from me, here!

 

Hydra was exhausted. But as she looked to her children, she again saw that it was a worthwhile endeavor. Four young, living, breathing things. A continuation of she and Dirge's legacy. Beautifully fragile little things. She nosed them, and closed her eyes as she recalled stories shared by her fathre. Stars named, while her mothers eyes sparkled in the moonlight and Hydra could hear her heartbeat with an ear pressed flush against her as the other listened to her fathers voice. 

She opened her eyes as the voice of Dirge came then, and she shared tiredly from within: four... two boys, two girls, came her voice, strong even despite her exhaustion. The names she recalled but moments ago were the ones she shared: Caelum, Altair, Mira and Mintaka, ones they had discussed, too, but weeks before they had even arrived. Charon and Amekaze would live on in stories told, still, but all to come would be better still she felt. And so it was with much satisfaction to be felt that she looked upon her young, no feelings of mourning to be recognized as the year prior. She and Dirge had done wonderfully with their first brood, and with them to help Hydra was all the more confident that to feel only joy this hour was not at all wrong. She missed them still, but placed a happy little kiss upon their brows before falling into her own deep sleep.