Noctisardor Bypass We'll sneak out while they sleep

Glaukos took the beaver he had culled to the rendezvous point, and there with the help of the lagoon he pulled apart the carcass and cleaned what he could. The fur would have been of great use to some woman, probably, as it was water-proof and thick; but Glaukos did not think of this, and when he had finished butchering the creature in to component parts he left the remains to soak and to drift. Some of it he ate, because it had been hard work to drag the giant rodent this far and his hunger won over his usual practicality. There was still quite a lot of meat to be carried, so he set about doing that.

The man did not know where @Druid was exactly. He knew where she liked to sleep, and generally how far she might travel to avoid being sick near him, and so he began a lazy hunt for her while carrying the stripped remains of the beaver; hopefully in this more accessible form it would be appealing, given that one sister had not been keen to eat.

Druid returned from a patrol feeling much more drained than usual. She yearned for her warm bed in Dawnleaf, though before she reached it, a wave of nausea gripped her. She stopped in her tracks, sore muscles clenching in anticipation of the usual heaving, though this time the feeling passed. She pressed on wearily.

She’d nearly reached the den when she heard Glaukos’s familiar, heavy footsteps. Druid paused, giving the air an idle sniff in his direction. He had meat with him. Her mouth flooded with saliva, though not because she was about to throw up for once. She was so ravenous, she let out a low whine, as if imploring him to deliver the food to her more quickly.

When he heard her calling for him, he picked up his pace.

When he caught up to where she was, he found himself surprised by how glad he was to see her, but put aside that immediate sensation for the work of maneuvering the meat. He placed it on the ground nearby and motioned that she should come eat.

As she did this, if she did this, Glaukos stood watch and idled, wondering if the hunger that Druid currently displayed would be displaced by a similar sickness to Heda; he had not forgotten the question he was meant to ask about the sleeping arrangements, but would wait until Druid had at least inspected the meal.

The whine crescendoed when he stepped into view. He’d barely dropped the kill before she fell upon it, scarfing every last bite like she hadn’t eaten in years. She growled her pleasure between swallows of only partially chewed meat.

She noisily licked her chops when she polished off the last bite. The look Druid cast Glaukos then was grateful and slightly sheepish. Her tail waved. She swallowed a burp, lest it result in upchuck.

Thank you, she said to him. Now that I’ve eaten, I need to rest. Come with me?

Druid didn’t wait for an answer. She turned and took the route to the den she’d recently begun using. It was a simple affair which should suit her needs when it came time to whelp. At least that’s what her instincts told her.

She walked inside and slung herself to the floor with a sigh. Druid found she had to shift herself to one side to accommodate her midsection. Whereas the rest of her frame became bonier by day, it continued to swell.

As pleasing as it was to Glaukos to be successful in this moment, feeding one of the pregnant women of his home turf, here was a sight he had gone blind to: the slowly withering Druid, who was putting all of herself in to her children. Glaukos watched her as she ate, ravenous, and was satisfied knowing he had provided. He would need to hunt so much more frequently - and maybe he would favor Druid with first choice more often, given the state of her.

When she bid he follow, then took off running, Glaukos was startled but he did as he was told. It was surprising to see someone with such a belly able to run the way Druid did. When they came to the den space, she slipped inside and he felt more at-ease when he heard her flatten out.

He lingered outside the den mouth, guarding the area with a sweep of his attention and alert expression.

Glaukos did not join her inside. Druid huffed a laugh through her nose as she watched him take up a stoic vigil. She shook her head lightly.

If you want to stay out there, I won’t force you to come inside. But I was hoping we could talk. Not about anything in particular. Although maybe it’s time to start thinking about names, she mused.

He listened, contemplated his next move, and begrudgingly wedged himself first within the opening and then beside her, his tail drawn across the threshold.

There was an unease to him as he lay there. A clear tension through his shoulders and subtle slant to his ears; but Glaukos did not speak about it. He looked attentively to Druid and with a somewhat awkward pause, said, What if we let them... choose their own? When they can.

Druid swallowed a chuckle when Glaukos squeezed himself into the den, as if he didn’t quite fit inside. She sensed his unease and gave him a soft smile, appreciating that he would make himself uncomfortable at her request—both of them.

Now there’s an idea, she hummed in response to his pitch.

She liked the thought, in principle. It was a little unconventional but Druid wasn’t particularly one for conventions, was she? Practically speaking, the children would need monikers of some kind from the start, perhaps simple nicknames they could shed when they were a bit more grown.

‘When they can’… Druid repeated. If we let them pick their names as soon as they’re capable of speech, we may end up with children named things like Goo and Gaga, she pointed out with an indelicate snort. Do you have a surname? she tacked on in the next breath.

While she was willing to follow that idea, logistically they would need names for the immediate days after the birth of the children - for which Glaukos was at a loss. He thought of his past names, both those he chose and those forced upon him, and never had he considered a surname.

Maybe I was born with one. I don't remember. He answered with a thoughtful, if a bit detached, expression upon his face. I don't remember my parents names either. Closest to that would be... Merrick, I guess. Or Germanicus. The two were polar opposites; one manic and devout, the other a hyper-rational stoic.

Is that important? Having a second name.

It can be, she mused in reply, in the sense that it indicates a family unit when they all share one last name.

She had been born and raised Druid of Rivenwood, which wasn’t so much a surname as a title, she supposed. Then she’d chosen Basilisk for herself, a name of which she was still fond for its connection to her childhood companion. Would Glaukos and their children like to share either one, she wondered?

Before she could press the issue any further, her earlier nausea returned with a sudden vengeance. Druid leaped to her feet and managed to exit the den to avoid upchucking in their cozy space. Afterward, she sighed and kicked dirt over the puddle of vomit, then slunk back toward the little lair.

She frowned an apology at him, then squeezed in beside Glaukos again. Instead of resuming their conversation, Druid’s head sank to her paws and she closed her eyes.

As far as Glaukos understood it, a family was much like any barracks of warriors. In this case Druid would be the commanding officer and the children would have to grow in to their roles as soldiers.

Glaukos was thoughtful and silent. When Druid suddenly moved to the entrance he rose up and shifted to let her pass without obstruction, at least as best he could manage; then she settled again after, looking tired.

He did not know what to do.

Quietly he asks, Can I get you anything?

A bedtime story, she quipped without opening her eyes, the corners of her mouth pulling upward at the little inside joke. I’m only kidding, she added tiredly in the next breath, although I do think I’m going to get some shuteye. Ejecting one’s stomach contents repeatedly is exhausting.

With a low murmuring sound, Druid shifted a little to get more comfortable. Her eyes fluttered but didn’t open. Sometimes something as innocuous as light could trigger her stomach’s tripwire. She wasn’t taking any chances and, besides, she was telling the truth. If she kept her eyes closed, it was only a matter of time before the succumbed to the exhaustion and drifted off.