Hideaway Strath To each their own

Mature Content Warning

This thread has been marked as mature. By reading and/or participating in this thread, you acknowledge that you are of age or have permission from your parents to do so.

The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: Puppy birthing and killing,
New unsure mother not raised in a normal pack, not knowing what to do.
Please do not read on if you are squeamish or are upset easily

@Kynareth Deagon
Feel free to join but this could be a read only I will close it off in a week with the finishing post of the second and last pup

Her white blue eyes slid open slowly, adjusting to the early morning light. Ears cocked as she looked around wondering what sound had awoken her, she was sure there had been a noise. Nothing was near by…

Where had she fallen asleep light night? Glancing up she saw a tree like any other she had slept below a hundred times or more. She really should make herself a den to go to each night. However that would be work and she discovered though she had great desires she had no follow through. She was fine with that it was whom she was and she owned it.

Her belly hardened and she made a soft pained groan. She realized then it was her… she had made the noise that had woken her up. She turned to look at her body as if it had betrayed her, caused her pain for no reason she could see… 

She stood and paced, after a few moments she felt the pain build, she stopped and stared at her side again glared at her belly as pain wracked her. She bit down on her groan and refused to make a sound. Her teeth bared after that wave of pain she trotted toward the border of the pack territory wanting to run.

She’d not get away from her own body though. Panting tongue lolled over bared teeth she paused in her trek her sides heaving, her body aching. She had no idea where she was anymore blinded by pain she had just traveled with no destination in mind but ‘away’

She couched as if to use the washroom but more pain ripped through her it took several pushes and more pain before something slid from her body; it was not poop. She turned and stared at it, stared at the thing on the ground a lump covered in a skin? A ball? The thing lurched and without thought Whrist snapped at it crushing it in her jaws. She tasted blood, she shook the thing in her maw until it did not move then spit it out. A mess of flesh and blood and fluid she nudged the thing that had come out of her. It did not move again.

Though she had been present for a birthing or two lately, all she had glimpsed was the females eating something. She had no idea that they had only eaten after birth she had no idea what new born pups looked like. She lay down finally and stared at the thing that had come out of ‘her’ body. It deserved it’s fate having hurt her, so she ate it like the other females had done, she ate it as if it were a rabbit. It kind of looked like one, Sort of tasted like one too.

She thought her ordeal was all done, when her belly hardened and pain threatened to upturn her newly acquired meal. Another one of those things were coming? She growled and stared at her heaving sides, As she considered biting herself… She gritted her teeth trying not to make a sound glaring at her own body as it betrayed her yet again.

Kyn awakes in the middle of the night, a feeling welling in the pit of his stomach. Not necessarily a bad one, but just a feeling — one he cannot ignore. He rises from his den, dark auds shifting back on his skull. He gives his little ones and @Simmik a short glance before he allows his paws to draw him further and further away from the den.

Something's happening. He paces around the territory — wondering. Then he smells blood. Blood mixed in with Whrist’s scent. He freezes in his place and sniffs the air and ground once more. Has someone hurt Whrist? He feels his veins light up with a furious fire. There’s another scent in there — one he can’t quite put a name to. 

Needless to say, he follows it, moving into a brisk gallop. Worry creeps into his mind as he urges himself faster and faster. It leads further to the borders. There’s no other scents besides hers. What is happening?

He finds her, lying beside a tree, the musk of copper tainting his senses the closer her gets. He rushes over with a whisper of her name on his tongue, concern lacing into his glowing, canary orbs. Standing before her, he rushes to her side and just looks at her. 

She’s panting heavily, hocks soaked in blood that shines sickly in the sullen night light against her dark fur. That scent. Birth. He remembers it from Simmik’s own bearing. His blood runs cold and he lowers himself close to her.

“Whrist-“ He begins almost panicked. Nudging her head with a thick muzzle. “Whrist, darling, are you — are you okay?” He asks dumbly, trying to comfort her even though he’s sure it won’t do much good. She seems panicked — primal. 

He rasps a dark tongue over her muzzle and tastes the blood on her. It’s so fresh. There’s so much of it. He looks down and sees the remains of tiny bits of gristle — meat and bone. His mind tries to catch up. Had she already had one? If so, what happened?

intended this one to be dead after to long in the birth canal, genderless unless you'd like to give it one. 

The world stopped, sounds did not exist, nothing existed outside of the exquisite pain that wracked her body,  she was trapped in her own version of hell. She heard nothing of the early morning crickets and insects that greeted the day nor the bleats of a herd of goats that came down from the hills to sneak a drink.

Her body hardened around the object it was trying to expel; her white teeth stained with the blood of the first bared in frustration her breathing stopped until her body relaxed but the thing her body was trying to push out was no further along it was large to large it felt like it was splitting her apart. 

There was a voice with a soothing lilt that usually melted her bones from the inside out is barely heard, the words slipped by without purchase in her ears. A guttural groan was his only reply, White blue orbs squeezed shut her paws pushed at the dirt and scrabbled for purchase she did need. It was only a moment more before her belly turned rock hard and squeezed tight and still the thing inside her did not move.

Her breaths came in heavy pants now and she startled at the touch of tongue to her face so startled she forgot to attack. Her eyes opened to stare into his yellow eyes, but her’s still did not see him. Whrist stood and paced her paws leaving wet marks on the ground. She groaned growled again this time when her belly hardened, the burden she carried finally moved and she pushed it free from her body as she paced the thing did not move as it hit the ground, covered in blood it was large almost to large for her body have expelled on her own. She moved away several paces before she stopped, her back to both Kynareth and the thing that had caused her so much pain.

The sack still covered the babe that had yet to move, when she delivered the afterbirth and finally she was free of pain, her body softened her legs shook in relief.

The black wraith lifted her muzzle not daring to look behind her, at the the thing that had cause all this pain or at the Grandmaster. She didn’t know what to say; should she apologize for making him worry, should she thank him for coming to her aid though there was nothing he could do while her own body violated her. Should she take vengeance upon the thing that had hurt her so? She didn’t trust her voice so she didn’t say anything, she choose to remain quiet and see if he’d come to her, she still heard nothing from the thing…

He tries to ask her what’s wrong, he gets nothing but a huff of a groan in return. When he laps at her head, she snaps those beautifully pale eyes up at him, but there’s something so terribly wrong. She’s got a pained, thousand yard stare, as if she doesn’t even see him. His ears lie flat and he looks down at her with raw concern displayed in his own golden irises, expression twisted up in concern too. 

“Whri-“ He begins to say.

Then she stands up, dragging paws against the ground. A pink tongue falls from a stress panting mouth and he back up to give her space and to see where’s she’s moving. She only paces and it’s then his eyes move to inspect her further. 

Then a sickening, wet plop hits his auds along with the midnight woman’s pained growls and pants. When he looks down he pales at the sight of how big the pup is. And there’s no mistaking it. It is definitely a puppy.

Everything connects then. The bloody and gristle covering her maw and the far away, terrified, and pained look in her eyes says everything. She ate the first one. He wonders if it was born still just as this one seemed to be. It’s then that his morbid curiosity gets the better of him. Approaching the unmoving child, still wrapped in its birthing sack, he nudges it with a nose, even tears it from the protective layer around it. Meanwhile, Whrist paces away and Don risks trying to nudge and lick the babe like he’d seen Simmik and Nyra do.

Nothing. 

After much too long he steps back, eyes stuck to the dead child. There’s nothing he can do for it now. He has a bigger problem: the mother. 

Fearing for her health he rips his gaze off of the pup and moves over to Whrist. Hoping to bring her back into the present with his touch, he softly brushed his body along hers, giving her a place to lean on. 

“Whrist.” He whispers to her. “Are you okay, love?” The question is not shallow in the least. He’s obviously very concerned, but he doesn’t want to stress her out by him stressing out. Trying to stay as calm as possible, he nudges the crown of his skull against her. Hoping to bring her back to him and help her in any way needed.

[ooc]I tweaked the last two paragraphs, I was still unhappy with it. I think it's more inline with Whrist now[\ooc]

Her eyes which had been staring vacantly ahead finally slid closed, they burned with the need for moisture which she had denied them for to long. A moment or two after his head touched hers her stiff posture finally relented then melted against him. She licked his chin greedy for the taste of him needing something, anything else rather then the blinding pain of the last few hours.

She didn’t know how to answer him so she simply didn’t. Just drew in his presence like the warm comforting beacon he was to her.

It was a long moment before she turned her head and set her gaze upon ‘the thing’ and her eyes widened she growled softly. Outside of the covering it wasn’t moving, the other one had moved while it was covered did uncovering it kill it? She hadn’t unwrapped the other one, didn’t know she was supposed to, just that she had seen the other wolves eat something….  but this one was clearly a puppy or at least something very close to a puppy, she had only seen puppies walk around with eyes open and fully dry and much older.

Curiosity got the better of her and she reluctantly returned to the pup then nudged it’s lifeless body and frowned at it, was it really a puppy? Did it really come from her?

She looked up at her Grandmaster “What?…” She hated how small she sounded just then, She didn’t know how to finish her question either did she want to ask What to do with the body? or What was this thing? or What had just happened to her? Or What to do now? Perhaps that word somehow conveyed all of that? She doubted it but again she was at a loss for more words.

She remember her conversation with Aerin the one where she 'might' have possibly been rather rude to the priestess, perhaps she’d have to apologize at some point. Admit that at the very least the woman had be right somehow. She stared down at the body as these thoughts flitted through her mind, but the thought a white wolf told her she was pregnant and then to go through this?

She felt something snap like an elastic band, The White Wolves had somehow done all this to her. Even after all this time the white ones were finding ways to make her miserable and cause her pain this, all of this!, was the White Wolves fault!!  Without thinking she leaned down and snapped the puppies neck as if to make sure it was dead or to kill an imaginary white wolf, but feeling the bones break beneath her teeth broke through her blinding rage.

Whirst leapt back as if the body had electrocuted her, she stared a moment more at it then looked at Kynareth Deagon with a casual shrug in her expression. Nothing to be done now. 
“Do we eat it?”  She inquired as if things like this happened every day.

Finally she comes back to him when he leans against her, she leans back. Her eyes blink and he can see how glazed they are. He can see how truly stressed she is. When she laps at his chin and doesn’t answer him, he doesn’t question her anymore. He simply allows it to happen. He’s here for her now. He’s here to do whatever she wants him to do — whatever she desires of him. He is hers completely for the night and possibly even the next few days. His worry gets the better of him and he’s going to want to make sure she’s okay indefinitely. 

So they stood there and embraced for a few long moments before he feels her move from his hold. Her gaze turning to the pup that lies lifeless before them. His own eyes meet the same sight, watching with morbid curiosity as she closes in on the pup. She nudges it, a pensive expression on her beautiful face. His heart wrenches knowing that it is his pup. Because who else’s could it be? He’s the one who boned her during her heat and that pup is too big and dark to be anyone else’s.

So when Whrist looks up to him with those icy blues of hers and utters a single word that says everything his brows turn up in sympathy. He did this to her. She had no idea what was happening and that’s not her fault. None of this is her fault — only his. 

He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. But by then her attention has turned back to the pup and this time a much more gruesome expression befalls her face. 

Then it happens. It’s like a strike of lightening — she snaps. Wrenching forward and with a small spray of blood crunches the lifeless infants neck in her toothy grasp. He almost gasps at the display of violence towards his own child, but again, he has no one to blame but himself. Yet, he isn’t angry at her, for she jumps back as if she’s been burned and now he’s more confused than ever. His expression is worried as he closes in on the two of them, moving beside her to comfort her despite her violent reaction to the body before her. He knows not of the turmoil that rushes through her mind like a hurricane. He only know that he must be there for her. So he is. 

Yet when she asks her next question, he almost wants to laugh in a sick sort of way. How casual is she now asking such things like that. Her mood swings are something otherworldly, but gos knows he’s not going to question her when she’s gone through so much tonight already. 

So with his own shrug he nods. “Yeah.” He whispers back. “Let me.” He pleads. It is Saint tradition that the father consumes any stillborns.

So with that, he moves in. Getting it over with by grabbing up the body and crunching into it with dangerous teeth. Severing it’s weak body like it’s nothing. It only takes him a few moments to fully eat it and he almost wants to say that he feels sick after doing so. But it is family tradition, so he has to get over it. His father would be pissed at his sentiment over the creature that was too weak to even come out of the womb dead in the first place. 

Moving back to Whrist, he laps at his bloody lips. Brushing his large head sensually along her own. He’s tired. He’s positive she’s tired too. So he embraces her. Usually their moments are so filled with desire — list for one another. This is different. He runs along her sensually, in a way he hopes to comfort her. A promise in his eyes that she’s his for the night once more. And will be again.