Ouroboros Spine breathe into you

eee so excited to get this up! all are welcome to join <3

shikoba has little use for a calendar in her head nowadays, she tends to solely focus on the day that she is on; once the sun as set and night has overtaken, she moves forward towards the next sunrise. very rarely does she think of any time before or after sunrise and sunset.

but today is a day that she has been thinking about since the day she knew she was going to be a mother. she resides in the deep crevices of her ulaq, feeling the contractions of her children wanting to be set free into this world from their humble home within herself.

a panicked call for those who could do anything to help, specifically for her husband, @Inutsuk and for @Lótë and whoever else may be in earshot. With @Kukutux just giving birth to hers, shikoba decides to try her best to not bother the woman as she cares for her next generation. instead, she focuses on her breathing, as labored as it sounded, and begins to try and follow any instinct that told her to push.

@Mojag would come first, and she wasted no time trying to clean him and envelop him in her unwavering adoration for him. though he would not be joined alone, per see. two others join their eldest brother, but something is not right about them. shikoba feels worried as she looks over them and soon realizes that they are stillborn. 

she is left in tears as she nudges them with her nose, but there is no response. she brings them close to her, though tries her best to separate them from Mojag. what sin could the woman have committed to cause the death of her unborn? perhaps it is to make up for the lives that she was forced to take, perhaps it was simply her poor luck.

but she tries her best not to linger. shikoba has produced something of worth, something beautiful. a little boy who would carry on her legacy.

His story began with a dream. 

Within it, three small figures were settled in a circle, with a plinth of stone at the center. There was nothing upon the surface of the stone except a slight graduation in color where something had chipped it. 

There he was: formidable and swarthy, with white-toed paws crossed in an elegant manner, his coat composed of wisps. The others were far less detailed - there was less context for them, only the sensation of holding communion with them. A pair; smaller than himself he thought, the way an island feels small when you see it from a distance. He has been sitting in wait for an eternity, hoping that they speak, that they share their secrets with him; but when he finally opens his own mouth to demand something - of which he is uncertain to its specificity - he is gasping for breath.

Now, beside him, as the dream breaks - the two figures tucked against the earth, with him between. They are warmed for a scant amount of time, but as soon as the trio have exited the womb they begin to cool, to chill. He feels it; they don't. His questions evaporate with the warmth, and little Mojag slips in to oblivion as his life begins. 

His hunger draws him towards Shikoba's belly and he chews at her damp fur, suckling on clumps of it before finding a teat. Not long after, he is squalling rather than drinking; an uproar pulled from the depths of his soul.

Lótë left her vigil near moonwoman's den, loping to Shikoba's in the spirit-speaker's stead. She was no healer like her sister but she knew enough -- not to mention she felt obligated to be at the native's side as Shikoba had been there for her in the year past, and by her love for her village sister. 

The delivery appeared to have gone quickly, judging by the squealing within and the heavy scent of blood and birth in the air. The cloudberry slowed as she neared, calling out quietly so as not to startle the new mother. Only after receiving permission would she enter the ulaq. 

Pale emeralds fell first on the son that cried at Shikoba's underbelly, a tender smile blooming on her lips. Her eyes shone with congratulations and pride for the she-wolf but her words of kindness died before they escaped, verdant gemstones falling on the two stillborns. 

"I will bury them for you, my friend," she whispered, reaching to brush her muzzle to the mother's temple. She would be confined here with her newborn, unable to complete the necessary task herself. And Lótë did not believe it right that Inutsuk should have to carry and lay his children to rest. 

"When you have healed, I can take you to where they reside, so you might perform any rites of your people." Lótë offered this, her tone and expression open -- waiting to see if Sivullik would protest or desire for her to do something else before moving to gather the small forms of the unmoving children. 

cameo!

two days after, kukutux heard the voice of shikoba.

it was not her name which was asked. sivullik was thoughtful, respectful.

but moonwoman's heart swelled both with pleasure and a pang that she could not come to shikoba as the woman had done for her.

the duck's voice lifted some time after, pride and love woven into the sound. she willed it to the hearth of shikoba and inutsuk.

Shikoba's cries called out with a readiness of new birth. Kukutux was restless behind him (children tucked to her side) as Aiolos sat at the opening of the den, back to her as he looked out. 

Their first hunter would not call for them. She knew their own pups had been born just days prior. Still, Aiolos feels the need to be there, even if only a little. 

As Kukutux howl to Shikoba ends, Aiolos would lift and turn his body to his mate. I'll bring back news. He offers and slips out into the open. 

By the time he arrives, it is after Lote's words. Aiolos hangs back, giving plenty of space between he and the den, yet to stand guard at least until Inutsuk arrived.

He had been away, practicing hard to better stalk and catch smaller kills. 

With now a wife and pups to tend to, such skills would be needed to ensure their needs were met.

Far out along the hunting ground, the call had barely made his audit. 

It was Shikoba who called for him. Could it be? Was it time already?

Heart skipping in his chest, Inutsuk raced for the ulaq the couple shared. Despite his heavy weight, the man pushed himself to a pace he rarely used.

Upon arrival, he noticed Aiolos close by, standing guard. Inutsuk is grateful for this, and shows it with a nod and a chuff of thanks.

Moving onward, the tawny man slipped into the den, eyes widening at the sight. There were three bodies, but only one that moved. If only it were not meant to be a momentous occasion, he would have wept and howled with grief. But now, he knew he could not.

Shikoba. The name had been screamed inwardly. At her side, he dipped his snout and nuzzled her cheek, then licked in between her ears.

Once Inutsuk had smothered the new mother with loving affection, he would then place his attention over the three whelps. His tongue sought out the stillborns, giving each a gentle lick: his way of saying both welcome and farewell. Then onto the third. A lively boy, clinging onto his mother. A lick for him as well.

There should have been words to part his lips, but the man was too speechless. Instead of speak, his chin rested upon Shikoba's crown and his eyes hovered fondly over the furry bundle that was their son. There was nothing else he desired to do in this moment.

there were many feelings that swirled within the body of the first hunter. she could feel pride swell within her chest over creating the most perfect little boy; though the feeling of sadness washed away some of the joy she felt. she does not drown in her feelings, for löté has arrived with an offer the woman cannot refuse. she nods to the woman softly and leans into her for a moment. lóté has been a friend for many moons now, shikoba trusted the woman to take care of the little ones that were lost.

"let inutsuk see, then take them."

other voices and scents become more apparent and the woman must fight every instinct in herself to not chase away those who offer their help. every fiber in her body tells her to protect the one child that survives, breathes, and nurses. and yet it is her consciousness that tells her that Moonglow arrives to help her, not take away the little boy whom she already adores so much.

inutsuk appears, and as he draws near to see what she has created, what they both have made, the woman is flooded with tears as she sobs into her husband. oh, how she wanted to apologize for only giving him one son and nothing else, how she wanted to apologize for shaming him with dead bodies rather than ones full of life.

"one--" she gasps out to him, "a boy, Mojag."

at last, he was named. the atmosphere is heavy with grief, yet there is a lightness to it as the boy nurses. moonglow grows by one.

skippable!

A boy—Mojag.

The words are soft upon Sialuk’s ears as she came close, the smell of more children confirmed when she sees their small, still bodies. But they did not move as Mojag did, and the raindrop understood. Sialuk offered the new mother a freshly-caught hare. Strength to care for her child.

She looked to Lote then, wondering if she might assist whatever ceremony would come for the cold, still children.