Stone Circle may these words be the first to find your ears

They be born!! A day early, but we can forward date this to tomorrow, it's a busy week and I'm not sure if I'll have the time to post tomorrow itself <3 Welcome to Kvarsheim kiddos!! <33 I don't know if your puppy accounts are made so I'll tag your other ones just in case! @Vale Enid @Wren @Eshe @Gunnar

In a quiet and secret place, four little hearts slip into the circle of stones.

Her labour began in the early morning hours and stretched through noon and late day. Only now as the sun touches down and spills the evening over the land, Taktuq turns to look upon her brood -- exhausted, yet brimming with wonder and love.

Only one looks much like her. He is the eldest, the first among kin, with stony furs like a variegated storm. Beyond this she can tell very little of who he is, what his future will be, only that he is sturdy and large and beautiful. She has many hopes for these children: that they will bring beauty to the Wilds, and goodness, even if this takes their paws on journey miles away. She longs for them to bless the Wilds, and so, she blesses them. She leans down and kisses her firstborn's head. He is not much older than his siblings, and yet, he bears a mantle she knows will be heavy. Yet she and Gunnar and all of Kvarsheim will be with him in this. I bless you, eldest one, she begins to whisper, may you care for your siblings as though they were yourself, may you watch them and love them with a willing heart. May your name be renowned as a protector of kin, may you carry peace throughout the Valley and to the lands where you are led. You are born of Stone Circle, cut from the rock and hemmed to be ours. You are Kvarsheim's, and we are yours. Ujurak, she decides. Ujurak Baldir, her stone prince.

The second carries Gunnar's tawny fur. She, too, is strong, and sturdy, boasting paws beyond her size. Darker browns fall along her back and Taktuq considers her with a different affection, a different tender eye. She is like her: the only sister amongst a crowd of boys. But Taktuq knows the women of the Circle will be as sisters to this little one, as Tauris has been to her, and she prays Inkeri might have girls also, to grow up alongside her and to be woman with her. I bless you, second one, sweet daughter of mine. May you soften your brothers and come alongside them. Sharpened yourself and sharpen them with the wit and way only woman may give. You are born of Stone Circle, formed from the clay, and shaped to be ours. Be of courage, and strength, and fidelity, and love. You are Kvarsheim's, and we are yours. Astrid Ahnah, already her divinely beautiful, may she grow to be a woman ever wiser.

The third again carries Gunnar's brown fur, but is intermixed with Taktuq's own soft greys. His back, however, is shaded far deeper, dark, which reminds her of her aunt Valette, and even more, of her cousin Merrit, and her thoughts drift to him. She only met him in swift meetings during her travels to and fro, but he always welcomed her, and she recalls the conversations she has had with him - deep, and reflective, of faith beyond her knowing, but one she admires, and sometimes wonders after. He has told her, too, of the one he follows, and of what he is like - his goodness and all his counsel. Perhaps her children might reflect this, too, I bless you, third one, but not least of mine. May your heart be kind and your soul be good. You are born of Stone Circle, of the mighty birch, rooted and grown to be ours. May your eyes see the helpless, the weak, and the lost, may your strong arms be a shelter, may your voice be their hope. You are Kvarsheim's, and we are yours. Kristjan Tulugaak, may he bear the marks of a Christ-bearer, may he be a bringer of light.

The last is darker than all the others - darker than Valette, and Merrit himself. Perhaps this comes from Gunnar's side. Perhaps, too, the splatter of light across his back, tiny freckles, forming stars in the inky black of his fur. They peek through like stars on a clear night and she is mesmerized by them. He is the smallest of the four but his paws, too, speak of the man he will become. Strong, she prays, of heart and of mind. Rich, she hopes, in the giving of himself. I bless you, lastborn, my darling son. May your words and your actions be true to each other, and may grace guide you to right judgment of strangers, packmates, and kin. You are born of Stone Circle, of the stars on a cloudless night, set in darkness to shine as ours. May you grow to be strong, and a holder of truth; may you carry your victories and your scars with humility, as did the one I name you for. You are Kvarsheim's, and we are yours. Sven Adlartok, her little warrior, may his heart be as clear as the clear sky that lets the light shine through.

They are beautiful. They are hers. They are Gunnar's, too, and he will meet them now. Hear of the names they carry, from the ones they spoke of between each other in the days her delivery neared.

And lets out a soft call for him to come and meet his daughter and sons.

Astrid Ahnah Loðbrók came into this world as her name suggests: divinely. Membrane is swept from her forehead and she is revealed to Kvarsheim basking in the soft-sweet glow of evening. Her first breath is of crisp Cancer air, fireflies dance around outside of the denmouth, and there are soft sounds of birds' chatter just in the distance. She is the Sun. 
And when her breaths steady, instinct leads her to the warmth of mother's milk, tiny paws scanning for a softened stomach to lean upon. And beside her, there are three brothers, whom she knows by touch alone. 
They are unique. They are elemental, they are holy. They are the future of Kvarsheim, even if they do not know it yet. 

It was with quiet spirit and gentle movements that he arrived on the tail end of Taktuq's call. He hadn't known his heart could carry anymore love. But he was proven wrong when he saw the little ones nestled there. And a love of absolute purity too he felt for Taktuq for the labor she had gone through.

He went to her first a gentle touch to her brow and her cheek.

You are amazing and did well, Drotting .

And he gave her the nickname he never used. That had been his mothers from the man she had loved more than herself. The highest honor he felt he could give her for a woman of her caliber who had brought to life their children and had done so with grace.

Then as he looked over their children a tightening in his chest and a lump in his throat. His eyes cast over them. All colors and shades between him and she. And then one who carried the pelt of one Gunnar hadn't seen since he'd been a young man if less than 2. He looked like Mercury.

They are beautiful. Hardy and strong. And i love them.

A gentle lick to Taktuq's head again. So blessed and proud. Then each the littles he pressed a nose to their heads whispered their names to their ears. Even if they couldn't hear him. They'd know his voice. He'd be an active father.

Last born, but not least loved. A little coo upon his birth. As air brushed his little face and deep into his lungs. He leaned into it fearless and wondering if such a name could exist in his minds eyes, ah but not yet. But he would come to know. 

The softness of his mother and his siblings. A gentle touch to his head. Whispered words he had not yet to hear, but he would. And he'd know always loved.

A firstborn son. 

Ujurak does not yet know the weight that will be his to bear as the eldest. For a few moments, all he knows of is his mother. As she unveils him to the evening air, he cries once before being soothed by her gentle kiss. He does not hear her voice as she speaks to him. Not the blessings gifted to him, but he feels her love with every vibration of sound. He nestles up to her belly, forepaws pressed against her as instinct drives him to nurse.

Soon he is joined by three other bodies. Smaller than his own, but all wriggling to be with their mother. He feels the weight of each sibling but does not yield his place, holding firm and steady. Supporting those that leaned against him without complaint. The stone prince belongs to them as much as they belong to him. 

A second touch his placed atop his head. Different, but cut from the same loving cloth as his mother. One day he would recognize this man as his father. Yet Ujurak does not need to know his future. For in the present, he is warm, content, and loved.

Kristjan's earth-side existence started with a wail that vocalized triumph and perseverance. Despite the odds, they lived. Although the cold had been jarring and woke him from his unconscious existence, warmth soon followed; love, in every sense of the word.

Guided by the smell of milk, the baby squirmed towards his mother's breast, latched, and ate hungrily. Once he was full and satisfied, with the ruminants of his meal dribbling from the corners of his lips, he shuffled towards his nearest sibling and leaned against them.

Snores could be heard briefly after he had settled among the litter, and the baby fell into a deep sleep.

They were beautiful. They may not have known it yet, but she would speak these things to them every chance she had, that they would know that they were beautiful, and that they would believe it true.

They would raise them to have hearts that were beautiful, that their beauty would adorn them, inside and out.

And when she looked up and saw Gunnar cut through the dim light of the den mouth —

Well, he was beautiful, too.

In his gentleness as he drew near them. In the quiet word he whispered in place of her name. She didn’t know what it meant, but she felt the weight of it, the love. She could only laugh, and smile back, heart too full to speak.

She told him their names, and he kissed each one, and she rested in his tenderness.

I love them, too, she said softly when he had finished, and paused for a breath. Gunnar… Was she wise to ask him…? She hadn’t been so sure before, but seeing their children now… we came together with no strings, but I have been thinking. Of their future — our future, and I… I believe they will need father and mother who are bound by strings… willingly, of course. They will look to us as an example. And I realize, she pays sed again, it has grown on me, this care that is deeper than words can really express. Or maybe I have been afraid. But — would you stay with me, Gunnar? Not only as father to our children, but as husband to me, until the end comes?

Her heart quickened and she glanced away, not sure she could handle seeing his face before hearing his rejection.

He had no words for the little lives that lay nestled in her arms. They were lovely and perfect. Just as she was, always had been. Good mother, good woman, good friend, everything.

He knew their children would grow well. They'd be strong and hardy and proud, but it would not bitter their hearts he'd make sure of it for as long as he could.

Tawny ears turned towards her as she spoke his name. Slate grey of eyes to trace across her features. Noting the seriousness to her face.

He was surprised and humbled all at once. And a gentle rumble in his chest as he thought over her words. He was fine with strings she could have him to herself he didn't mind. But he didn't know how much longer he had to give her. He was not a young man.

He lay a paw along a shoulder and then nudged with his nose to her side. So she'd looked. There were years of life in that gaze.

I will stay Taktuq. I will be yours, but I must express that I'm not young. I don't know how long I can give you.

A small sadness in his chest at this. Had he been younger. Had they met years before. Had and have nots so many things, but he'd give her what he could for as long as he could. Should he be concerned at their ages? Perhaps. But he had learned if you wanted something speak up.