Wheeling Gull Isle tristraka

welcome, island babies! no posting order! <3333

heda redhawk’s labour began as so many do with the first time mother: in surprise. it is because until such an event takes hold of you, there is no way to understand what you might expect.
her night had been restless, tossing beside caracal until dawn warmed the sky to dove-grey and rose-pink. at that point, heda, knowing she would not sleep again, had emerged from their lovely den to greet the morning.
the branches and stones upon the top of their home had become tangled with lovely flowering ivy and a climbing salt-clementine, and it was there heda stood in first sunglow before she trotted to the very top of the greenhills, its waving grasses high enough to brush just the midpoints of her shoulders.
thank you. as always, heda turned to prayer, tilting her head back and eyes raised to heaven as she praised in quiet reverence the everlasting splendor which god had given to her and to caracal. she prayed for the land which lay around them, for the inhabitants of the main world — for bartholomew, that god still guided his steps and would one day bring him home.
and yes, and as the light of morning grew into a sweet honey which poured across the island, which bathed her in shimmering gold, heda was bent near in two by a sudden and galvanizing pain which wrapped her in a deep, bone-breaking anguish.
a lake of water from inside her own body sank into the earth, moistening her paws, the inside of her thighs.
the cry echoed through the island, shock tied in tendrils to agony; the young woman in white robes calling now for @Caracal.
she leaned in sorrow and knowing and awe upon her mate as he guided her back to their den, heda doubled twice more with the force of her contractions.
and yes, she was afraid, but as she lay back upon the soft skins and the armfuls of lavender lay beneath, dried into a fragrance that hung upon them both; as heda clutched his paw, the gilded eyes set in their silver tracery beheld that of her husband. ”give your fear to god,” heda exhorted caracal, comprehending in some ancient way that the same force she worshipped was to bestow upon her the greatest trial of her loyalty to his will.
and a tribulation it was.
i will test you as i tested bartholomew in the lion’s den.
heda’s cries were resplendent and tormented as the morning’s hours seemed to stretch into a nothingness where time went to die. no shift of her body gave her relief. when the pain ebbed she asked for water. when she could stand again, heda walked in small circles along the flowery clearing she had devotedly sculpted, in which she meant to raise their young ones and teach them the first beauty of the home that god had given them.
if caracal spoke, heda did not hear him; her eyes were fixed upon some distant point or closed; her mouth working in prayer, her brow knitted.
at length she lay down again, and cried out to god as the agonies descended upon her twisting form once more, begging for his mercies.
trust in me, heda.
”i do, lord!” she choked beneath gritted teeth.
surrender your fear to me.
and in the next moment, which seemed to be an eon, heda screamed again, and at last gave up the last touch of trepidation for her own mortality.
i give you a son.
@Simeon, firstborn.
all of her was set ablaze with a riotous sense of glee; transfixed, she answered the call of her instinct and set the boy free from the caul. a perfect, beautiful child already with a touch of coloration about him that she knew must come from her husband. heda began to weep; she looked in glory for caracal, glancing toward his face with trembling, smiling lips as she carefully guided the pup to her belly.
”thank you, god,” heda breathed out, and lowered her head for a small time of rest.
it returned, the ocean of iron nails which drove into her bones and left her sobbing, guttural sounds wrenching from her throat as the primality of a thousand unnamed ancestors drove heda almost to madness. but she reached out for god again, and as the morning moved to afternoon, she delivered not one but two, a pair of graystone boys who embraced one another in a single caul as their mother laboured to bring them both breathside.
@Malakai and @Judah, touched by heda’s tears, and though their small folded ears would not hear for many days, she whispered again her gratitude to god as she cleaned them to the down of ducklings, heard their first breaths, and settled them beside simeon to marvel, for she could not look away.
not until the midpoint of the afternoon did her anguish begin again, and heda felt almost she could not bear it again, not again; her eyes ached with the tears she had shed, and every muscle around her ribcage seemed taut to snap.
trust in me, heda.
”i do,” and the golden eyes rolled closed, and the brow narrowed, and with the last of her strength and a final wavering shriek, heda delivered a daughter, @Dinah, to the holy island and to caracal redhawk.
determined despite her weakness, she smoothed the girl’s face, seeing only her husband in the tiny closed and ruddy features, and not until she heard a cry would she relinquish the only sweetharbor daughter to the fullness of her breast.
rejoice.
and oh, she did, closing her eyes with a whisper to god as the light of afternoon flowed across the island and turned the waves to azureite.

Caracal muttered fervent prayers under his breath while his wife labored. It was hard to see Heda in such agony, though he stayed steadfastly by her side, providing her with whatever she needed from him. By the time the pups debuted, he was exhausted, so he could not imagine how she must feel.

He was a father of four. Caracal looked at them tenderly, though as soon as he ascertained all were healthy and whole, he returned his attention to his mate. He nuzzled her brow, mopping it with his tongue before bathing her face in kisses. He was grateful for and proud of her. He loved her—and them—so fiercely, it brought tears to his eyes.

There weren’t many who would hear, nevertheless Caracal stepped away from Heda and the babes to sing joyously, “We have four new children!” and then, “God is good! Praise Him and give thanks!”

He stepped back toward his little family and hunkered down behind Heda, his body cradling hers as he peered over her shoulder. Caracal’s cheek pressed against hers as he marveled at their four little gifts from God.

;0; <33

---

The child knew one thing to be true: that all things came in pairs. Limbs, nostrils, kicks to your belly, and most importantly, heartbeats. Every thing had two heart beats, identical in rhythm and chime, and around these beats two little furred temples tasked with keeping them in union.

So when a great thrust evicted him from his sanctuary a silent panic bloomed. He could do nothing but lie motionless, torn away from his vital other half.

This is how the boy known as Judah came into life: certain that it was death.

O Lord, you have probed me and you know me; you know when I sit and when I stand; you understand my thoughts from afar. My journeys and my rest you scrutinize, with all my ways you are familiar.

I praise you, for I am wonderfully made.

Truly you have formed my inmost being; you knit me in my mother’s womb. I give you thanks that I am fearfully, wonderfully made; wonderful are your works.

I praise you,  for I am wonderfully made.

---

There is a rush of cold, and the sudden tangy smell of seasalt and metal. A new life has graced the world with her gifted presence. 

With tiny, wet paws, there's a twitch and then a reach outward, landing upon the warm skin of Heda's belly. Instinctually, the soft mouth of the infant opens, and there is full-body warmth once again in the form of milk. There is a cry of thanks, small and warbled, as little white droplets form on her chin. She is alive with the glory of the Lord.

You have encircled me behind and in front, and placed Your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is too high, I cannot comprehend it.

---

There is a time for everything, and the time came for them to live beyond the warmth within the embrace of their mother's womb. Simeon came first, a ball of sand and earth wrapped up in all the Lord had given him to survive.

He choked once before he felt the fluids wiped away. Given, and taken away, yet given something greater in return.

Breath filled the little boy's lungs. Air, both cool and sharp, and he cried out for that warmth that had once embraced him.

There, she curled around him again. There, familiarity surrounded him, too, in the gentle press of three other bodies. Warm, like him. Slightly soggy, like him. Breathing, hearts beating.

Three months since his book was opened.

Today, a new page turned: day 62, when lungs are given life.

---

My frame was not hidden from You when I was made in secret,
      and skillfully formed in the depths of the earth;
Your eyes have seen my formless substance;

And in Your book were written all the days that were ordained for me,

  when as yet there was not one of them.
How precious also are Your thoughts for me, God!
  How vast is the sum of them!
Were I to count them, they would outnumber the sand.
  When I awake, I am still with You.

The Messanger of God is born. 

Malakai entered the new world with a cry and shock. There was warmth around him, of his mother and father and siblings yet, not so much as within the confines of the womb. The sounds were no longer muffled, but loud to his tiny, cupped ears.The scents is what stirred him most- made of salt, lavender, birth, blood and milk. 

Malakai seeks, for at his side is no longer the brother which he had pressed his weight into all this time. Finally, in the wobbling and as he is set to his mother's belly, alas the twins are renewed. A grumble on his lips of satisfaction, his brother at his side, where he belonged.