Fairspell Meadow ambaróne

Heat thread 3

Wilwarin danced through the Wilds, feeling more free now than ever before. The snow continued to fall, to follow her, and she did not mind it. As she passed nearby to a dark forest she saw the way the snow collected on the branches and thought, how pretty!

Her wandering brought her to a meadow. She was immediately reminded of the flowerbed where she had met Haizel, and that flushed feeling grew stronger across her face, the hunger in her belly flaring.

The black bear searched restlessly for a place to make her den, certain by now that she carried new life within her. It was apparent in her scent, just this stranger's fertility was apparent in hers. The black bear watched her for a long moment, smiling to herself as she observed the butterfly flit through the frozen meadow.

Finally, she gave a bark of greeting, prancing near with her black tail wheeling. She did not have what the young woman likely sought, but she hoped to share in these high spirits all the same.

At a respectable distance, Easy romped a few feinting steps before bowing low, front paws splayed wide.

If only she could find another playmate! How could she feel so young and so old at the same time? Wilwarin wanted to be close to someone - and she knew this wasn't utterly alien to her, but the hunger of her body for this specific taste made her wonder.

She ran, dancing over the snow until she was out of breath! If she could sing she would; if she could howl, her voice would have called to anyone within earshot.

Thankfully, someone had noticed her. They came crunching through the snow and seemed intent to intercept; Wilwarin being an innocent fool, did not suspect anything. The other wolf was older, and a woman, but Wilwarin did not mind.

When she made a bid to play, Wilwarin made a motion as if she were barking with excitement, but not even a whistle came out of her. She bowed and ducked and feigned, welcoming the game.

She was so tiny! The young woman reminded Easy of Bhediya as she'd last seen her, even though their pelts were as different as shadow and snow. This might have been a sad thought at another time, but her high spirits spurred the black bear easily into prey. Her only worry, for a time, was being sure not to bowl the young woman over in her enthusiasm.

They romped through the snowy field, wheeling and kicking and snapping teeth. The woman's silence unnerved Easy for a time, but she hardly noticed it by the time she lost her breath to laughter. She ended any tussling by standing upright and being generally immovable to the much smaller wolf.

"You should hurry," she said, high spirited but just a little regretful. "If you want to be sure you'll have babes come springtime." Her head tilted. "That is what you are doing, yes?"

Because otherwise, it was dangerous for her to be out here alone.

The game wasn't long-lasting but it was enough to rile Wilwarin, to get her blood pumping and further distance the cold of winter from the rest of her. The hum of her skin seemed to grow each time she connected with the other wolf. The laughter of the lady filled the space and for a time Wilwarin could pretend it was her own voice.

When it ended, she was glad to have a moment to catch her breath. She stood panting and covered in snow, close but not too close to Easy, and listening. The mention of babes was a surprise and Wilwarin expressed this by shutting her mouth, tilting her head, and then frowning briefly. What did these games have to do with children? Except that she felt like one!

She began to mouth something, and then stopped. So few knew how to translate her soundlessness, and in that moment Wilwarin felt like there was a world of difference between her and the elder woman.

After a pause to think, she tried to mouth, I am only playing. And then bowed in another invitation, but this was not a serious bid, she was only trying to make her words clearer. A pantomime.

Easy wasn't adept at ready lips, but she was good with body language. The woman's confusion was palpable, and her dismissal of the thought of children similarly clear. Easy answered with a bow of her own, tail whisking to reassure the other woman that they could keep playing! She didn't care to stop at all! But,

"This scent and this feeling about you," she said, her tone gentle but serious, "It means that you are fertile. If you lay with a man, new life may spark within you."

The black bear watched her intently, orange gaze scanning for her reaction.

She knew what had been taught to her: that women became wives, that men were husbands. That they could lay together and make children. The urge to do so had never possessed Wilwarin before; she only felt good now, and did not consider where the feeling came from, or what might result if she gave in to it; and she had! One with one man, and so brief a game that she barely thought of him now. But the woman spoke of these things and the flower-man came to her mind immediately.

It was with a stunned expression that Wilwarin looked upon the woman. How could she have been so mindless? She had only wanted to play games, to let herself be affectionate - and it had not felt bad. It had been what she had wanted. All women were expected to perform their First Rite; perhaps that was all this was, she thought. Perhaps the contact had not been enough to fill her womb.

Wilwarin was suddenly worried, and the spark of good-natured fun seemed to diminish. Her play-bow lifted, and she had an overcast look to her features as she looked at herself: sidelong, to her belly, and then thoughtfully towards the woman.

Her heart sank just a little for the girl, and her lips parted to speak soothing words, but for a moment, none came to mind. The pause was long enough for the butterfly to turn his attention to Easy, who found it in herself to laugh.

She planted her ass in the snow and lifted a paw to give the butterfly a better view. Her belly showed no true signs of pregnancy yet, but it was apparent by then in her scent to those who knew what to look for.

"Yes, they're in there," she said, her voice warm. "I expect them near winter's end. Three or four, I think."

With her good humor restored, she felt able to speak to the butterflies unspoken worries:

"There is no shame in it," she said, her voice kind. "Our bodies are meant to bring life. If you have done what is natural for you, it may spark inside you. There are herbs you can take to prevent this — although bot without some small risk. But I have been in your place. If you want them, we are quite capable of raising young on our own. It is difficult, but it can be done."

She swept a look up and down the young woman.

"Or you can come to me," she offered.

They were? They were! The woman must have known somehow. Wilwarin was incredulous; it would take some time before her mind wrapped around the idea of being pregnant, and that did not account for her disinterest in being a mother, which would arise closer to the due date. After all she had learned from her own mothers, and from her sisters, and from the wilderness that she so loved - how could she be so stupid as to let this happen? She did not feel ashamed — even while the elder woman spoke of that as a possibility — but she did feel fear.

Her own mother had reared children alone, although not wholly alone. For a time she'd had the support of a husband and then after, the support of a village. Wilwarin thought also of Fjall, and how he had been born to a place half-built and doomed to fall, and yet he was out in the wilderness presumably alive and well. She found herself wondering about her family, then. Where was Lote? How could she do anything without her mother to help her?

Or you can come to me. The woman offered! A look of hope sprang to life upon Wilwarin's face. Her lips pressed together, giving a pinched look, while she felt the impulse to whine a pleading sound - but no sound would come, only the expression of please. With her head ducking, Wilwarin moved to touch her nose to the woman's chin as a daughter might to a mother.

In this moment, it seemed the elder woman would be her support.

Easy was just a little surprised by the young woman's reaction. She recalled someone making her a similar offer all too long ago, and she'd been too proud, wanting to raise them on her own. Or maybe hoping Aditya would come back — it was hard to remember what lies she'd told herself back in those early days.

She gave the young woman a brief nuzzle, and fought her instinct to tell her that everything would be alright.

"My name is Ishara Morningbreeze," she said, and she gave the butterfly a moment to supply her own name, even guessing that it would not come. "Friends call me Easy, she went on, although it seemed the the butterfly would call her nothing. "I've been looking for a den. It will be somewhere near here, I think. But perhaps that can wait."

She jabbed the butterfly with her nose — [I]tag! you're it! — and then danced out of reach to slap the ground.

Ishara was a beautiful name. It ran over and over in Wilwarin's mind, although she need not focus so hard on it to remember this woman, who was wise and beautiful and so kind to let her stay! To help her through whatever waas to come. Yet she did, because the name was beautiful.

She opened her mouth to try and mime her own name: Wil-wa-rin as best she could. It would've been easier if she had a sibling with her; a sister to tell the name aloud, so that it could be known. There was no way to be sure Ishara knew it.

Besides that, the woman wasn't really listening. She moved to tag Wilwarin and then floated out of reach, inviting her back to a game, and Wilwarin was pleased enough to let the more serious matters settle for the time being. She dove in to a play-bow as well and soon was frolicking in the snow, happy again.