Firestone Hot Springs You're saying the words that I want you to say

@Stryx <3

She knew her days of being able to leave the territory to search for herbs were limited. Her trip out with Emrik the other day had been very productive but there were still some things she needed. She rarely left the territory, especially now, but she hated the idea of being low on supplies with three litters due soon in Kaistleoki. She could have asked her mate to go with her, but she hadn't been able to find him that morning and she only planned to go a short distance—not too far to call for help if she needed it. 

To her great surprise, she had come across a raspberry bush not too far from the borders. Leaves held gently between her paws, she had continued on a little more to see if she might find anything else. Her wandering lead her to the hot springs, and she was hit with an instant wave of nostalgia. The last time she had been here was with Slavik, and that felt like a lifetime ago; it kind of made her sad, but the feeling was quickly dashed away by how grateful she was for what she had now. 

The muscles of her abdomen were awfully sore today, which she knew was normal this close to having the pups, but a faint cramp brought her back to the present. She wondered if she might have pushed herself too far today. She knew better, too, and would not hesitate to rebuke one of her packmates for doing the same. She sat down and placed the leaves at her feet, blowing a few breaths out of her mouth as she waited for the discomfort to pass. Once it did, she would return home.

Note to self: this is around the same time Raleska went home.

This place smelled... weird. While she was used to the smell of salt by the coast and pine everywhere else, the absence of both was a surprise, and the strong sulfur-rich fog in the air made her nose curl. It took a while for Stryx to adapt to the smell; it wasn't the most inviting thing in the universe. As she investigated the area she found a small pool of steaming water, and then another, and another - some large, all misshapen and equally vibrant.

Because of the smell in the air she could not keep track of anything else - she was nose blind. Stryx had entered the scene with a strong hunger and now it was diminished, practically gone entirely, and she had to fight the urge to gag. She'd been plenty of places and the only comparison to this pock-marked landscape she could think of was the boggy westland.

Ahead of her, beyond a thicket where the fog was trapped like foaming milk, something moved. It looked round and large, and brown, all indications that it could be a bear. She ducked and moved so that her path hugged the brambles, trying to slink around the bushes and the supposed threat before she could be spotted - or possibly maimed.

She drew in and slowly released a few more breaths, the ache starting to diminish the longer she was off her feet. She worried about making the journey home, but if she took it slow, she figured she would be fine. She would be ready to sleep for sure, but she should be able to make it home without incident as long as she paced herself. And she would need to rest for a bit first. 

So in the meantime, she looked around, taking in her surroundings in case she saw anything weird. She saw a flash of grey out of the corner of her eye and whipped her head around. Her hear slammed against the walls of her chest, and she quickly looked around to see who or what was there. She cursed herself for coming out here alone; she knew it was a bad idea, and yet she did it anyway because she hadn't wanted to trouble anyone.

She saw nothing, though, no matter how intently she searched, and it only made her more nervous. Who's out there? she finally called out. If they were here to hurt her, then she wanted to know soother rather than later. She got to her feet, adrenaline making her move a little too quickly, which sent another ache along the side of her abdomen. She tried to ignore it as she waited for an answer to her question.

When a voice rang out, Stryx stopped with a paw raised. She looked around quickly with her eyes, then raised her head a little bit, her ears pivoting as she listened for more signs, thinking that maybe the bear was tricking her. That made her squint a second though; bears were boorish things, more like pigs than wolves, and ultimately the lesser species. Big, strong, terrible, but not smart enough in her experience to pull off such a trick.

Stryx wasn't sure if she wanted company but she trusted her gut, and stopped sneaking by. She called in reply: I'm only passing through! But mid-shout she noticed the hulking shape again, this time closer, and recognized the warm brown patterning of the stranger's coat as something specific to her own kind; her voice clipped at the end and she came out from hiding with a sheepish slant to her posture, apologetic.

Didn't mean to cause a fuss, miss. Thought you were a bear at first.

A bear? How odd. She was pretty round by this point in her pregnancy, sure, but she was a fairly small wolf. So to be confused with a bear was comical. In fact, the healer released a few giggles as she moved closer to the other woman. Well, I am probably the furthest thing from a bear, I assure you, she said first. 

I'm Speedy, Kaistloki's physician, she told the stranger, dipping her head respectfully. I was searching for herbs out here. I haven't been as successful as I would like. She smiled warmly at the other woman then and waited for her retrun greeting.

The woman's laughter sparked something in Stryx, who was comparable on most days to a humourless stone. Her gaze glimmered with faint amusement, reacting more to the giggling than what she'd initially admitted, and she nodded her agreement. Now that they were side to side this young lady was far too small to be a bear. It was a poor comparison when she was merely pregnant. Thankful that the stranger did not take offence, a tiny smirk drifts across Stryx's face.

It does not last long. The woman admits to being a physician. It is not a rare thing for Stryx to encounter other medics obviously, as she'd come upon Sugar Glider various times by now. But it does surprise her that the woman is so round with new life while also claiming the trade. It is not a pairing she can justify with her current world view.

A physician. She repeats lowly, and makes an effort to observe the grass and plants around them as if the foraging is what's perplexing to her. Stryx tries to gather her thoughts but instead of the cold, detached, clinical guise she dons when around most wolves, she finds herself incised with a potent anger. Perhaps anger is not the right word — but she is offended by the very notion of Speedy and her full womb. It is a knee-jerk reaction, this inflammation of judgement.

You are pregnant. There are many dangerous herbs growing in the wilds, and you risk the lives of your unborn to continue?

The other woman seemed confused by her words, repeating her title and looking around at the ground as if she were searching for something. Speedy wondered if she should clarify that a physician was the same thing as a healer. But before she could say anything else, the stranger was speaking again. Not just speaking—accusing her of endangering the lives of her unborn children by doing something that was second nature to her. 

I appreciate your concern, she said first, her smile and words genuine—because she really did appreciate that a stranger would be so concerned with the lives of children she had no ties to. I've been a healer for quite some time now; I know the difference between what is toxic and what is safe. I'm here looking for specific herbs to add to my cache. She didn't have the luxury of taking it easy as some might. I am Kaistleoki's sole healer; I can't just take off from my duties, especially when I'm capable enough to continue my work safely. I have a lot to do before my children are born and I'm bound to a den and have no choice but to take a break. Even if she wasn't her pack's only healer, she would still be working until her pups were born because that's just who she was. There was no danger in continuing her work, not that Speedy could see anyway.

There was nothing more egregious to Stryx than the scene before her, no matter what she'd seen on the field of her practice, no matter what rogue tales filtered their way to her as she travelled, than a woman putting herself at risk in the way that Speedy now was. The way that Stryx had been taught forbade a physician from partaking in such a union. To have someone claim they were a healer but also a future mother, well, it didn't sit right with her at all — and she couldn't handle it.

No matter what Speedy said, Stryx could only see the matrons of the Order reciting their rules to her, over and over and over again. It put the unborn at risk, it put the mother at risk too — and when Speedy admitted to being the only medic of her pack, Stryx saw red.

You are the only physician, and you have taken no apprentices? You think it is wise to birth newborns when there is nobody to take over...? Why would you threaten the lives of your charges that way, that is incredibly narrow-minded. Did you think that you could birth a litter on your own without any possible complications? The words came flowing out of her; she could not help but get louder and more abrasive with each one, until she sounded more like the elders who had berated her.

If she were to die during the birth then her children might die too, or they would suffer beside a cooling body rather than a warm milk-heavy one; her pack would be without a healer, and all of this was wrong.

Stryx was fuming, although somewhere deep down she knew she was in the wrong for losing her cool—she could not stop herself from stating frigidly, You will be a terrible mother.

Speedy was not prepared for the stranger's anger or biting judgement. But mostly she was not prepared for how deeply her words would resonate within her. She was right. What if she did have complications during birth? Any apprentice she had tried to take under her wing had disappeared, let her down in the end, and so she had just taken on the full responsibility herself. And if something happened to her during childbirth, what then? If she wasn't in a condition to coach someone through what to do, what would happen? Their sister pack was too far away to be able to help in such a time sensitive situation. So what backup plan did she have? The answer was no backup plan. She had been so concerned with getting everything prepared for her absence that she hadn't considered what might happen if she were unable to deal with any problems during her own birth. 

And then, You will be a terrible mother. The words were salt in an already open wound. The twins were so angry with her that they weren't even speaking to her, Acheron had left, and now she had all of these possible complications she hadn't considered before. There was no going to be—she was a terrible mother. She suddenly felt sorry for her unborn children. She was already incredibly sensitive, but the hormones made it almost impossible for her not to cry at the drop of a hat. Her eyes widened in horror, and then tears welled in the golden depths before falling down her cheeks. She backed up and her rear paw landed on a rock, causing her to lose her balance some and fall back on her haunches and she just stayed there, unable to pull herself up. She wished the earth would open up and swallow her.

The woman stared at her and Stryx could only stare back, bristling, waiting for her to see sense, as if that were possible. As if her words could abort those little lives in the span of seconds.

She did not know her views were so harmful nor so alien in this place; but she did recognize the look of panic in the other woman's face, the glossing of her eyes, the dribbling of tears to darken her pale cheeks. The woman stepped back and in that tenuous moment Stryx realized her mistake. Her ire had been misplaced—she didn't mean it, she—!

Down went Speedy. A twist of an ankle, enough destabilization for her rotund self that she plopped against the dirt, and sat there crying with what Stryx might decribed as an utterly crushed expression on her face.

Something clicked in Stryx's mind then. She knew she was in the wrong but could not face this woman or her tears. That round belly swollen with innocent lives, and the cluster that sat nearby of freshly plucked herbs that Speedy had been trying to gather—her work interrupted—and in the back of her mind those crones shouting rare praise in support.

Rather than apologize (as she felt she had nothing to apologize for) Stryx turned, and with a brisk trot, left the scene.