Nova Peak We all wish for more.

@Masquerade had retired to the densite. The change was anticipated, but still it fathered a thousand butterflies in Riley’s belly.

Soon.

He brought her a woodchuck who’d been a little too casual about his approach and paid the price for it. Sizing her up with concern, Riley playfully ‘threw’ it towards her like she used to do to him, though he aimed just a little off to the side as to not hit her. How are you feeling?

Like I can’t get comfortable, Masque griped after deftly dodging the carcass.

Well, her head moved swiftly out of the way, though there was nothing deft about the rest of her body. Her four paws remained planted where she stood, though she looked down at the woodchuck and gingerly stepped nearer to it. She eased onto her haunches, then slid slowly onto her belly, albeit listing to one side to avoid as much pressure as possible.

But she wasn’t kidding: there was no avoiding discomfort entirely at this point. Even when the puppies weren’t kicking—they must be asleep just now, as they were very still—they occupied so much of Masque’s body that it didn’t even feel like it belonged to her anymore. It certainly didn’t cooperate with her much.

Thank you, she remembered to say in regards to the food, shooting Riley an affectionate if careworn glance.

Riley didn’t know it, but this was the calm before the storm. If the pair felt run ragged now, they were in for a sore surprise — imagine how they would feel three weeks later, pulled in every which direction by a series of endless needs and hungry mouths.

It pained him to see Masque so uncomfortable and know he was the progenitor of it. Why couldn’t wolves just lay eggs?

As Masque gingerly slipped down Riley joined her, nursing his own hip as he did so. The boar had done its mark, but he found he was healing — a blessing, given things could be much worse.

Don’t mention it. I’m sorry it’s uncomfortable though. Anything I could do?

Just keep waiting on me hand and foot, I suppose, Masque joshed wryly.

She was relieved when Riley came to lay beside her. She reached to slip her muzzle under his, though she couldn’t hold the position for long. With a grunt, she stretched out again, letting her weight shift almost entirely onto her side. She wouldn’t be able to eat like this, though she wasn’t that hungry at the moment.

She idly pawed at the carcass, wondering if she simply didn’t have any room in her stomach. It sincerely felt as though the pups were occupying every inch of her body cavity. Masquerade dwelled on this a moment, the thought making her uneasy, and then forcibly turned he remind to other matters.

I’m so glad we have Dagur now. Perfect timing too, she mused. This is it, Riley. I’m not moving from this den until they’re born… and probably not for a while after that, either.

It pained Riley to see Masquerade so visibly uncomfortable. As she shifted around and eventually laid on her side, he was able to see just how big her belly had gotten — and wondered not for the first time, how women managed to grow tiny lives in such a small cavity. He couldn’t begin to imagine how it felt.

Probably incredibly invasive and violating.

She nudged the carcass with a paw, mentioning their new recruit and how she was, from this point onwards, locked in dugout jail. Riley’s gaze swept the enclosure; it was safe and secluded, but it lacked the gorgeous luster of being outside. Even more reason for him to sympathize with his mate, who was enduring this crucible on her body, alone. Even if he was here, which he was, only her body was going through it. Only she would experience the pain and humiliation of childbirth.

Like Masque, Riley had to quickly push his thoughts aside. I can’t believe it’s about to happen. He breathed in response, gently nudging his mate’s nose. I’ll make sure food service is top notch.

She could really only manage a wan smile for her mate’s remarks. She loved him dearly, as she did their offspring currently crowding her body, but Masquerade was at the end of her rope. Although she was nervous about the birth itself—particularly with no other women near at hand—Masque knew she could act as her own midwife, with Riley there to pick up the slack.

I do wish my mother or my sister could be here, she found herself murmuring after a short stretch of silence.

Even New Snow would’ve been a welcome presence, even though she would lack any words of guidance. Masque let out a wistful sigh, then tried not to dwell on these matters. She was lucky she had the support system she did. And though Redd couldn’t stand by her through the delivery, it wouldn’t be long after that that she could meet her nephews and nieces.

She tried to picture not just Wealda but the others—particularly Mulherin—coming to see children in a few weeks’ time. Would their faces light up when they saw Avicus’s continuing legacy in the flesh? Would they remain as taciturn as ever? Masque snorted, lips curving fondly at the thought.

Riley’s slender smile fell away. He knew what Masquerade meant, but still the reminder that Avicus wasn’t here and that Masquerade’s family couldn’t support her left him cold. He would have to step in — he was her family now.

He wished things were different, but if they were, would he be in the fortunate position he was in now, as Masque’s mate and the father of their future children? If circumstances were different, would they have ever met and become close?

It was too much hypothetical thinking for so small a moment. He kissed her forehead gently. Me too. He meant it; moreso Avicus than her sister. Get some rest. I’ll go do some more hunting.

Or Ashlar, she murmured, thinking of the poor man left in an unmarked grave out west.

Riley urged her to rest while he fetched more food. She nodded a little absently, her thoughts still far away—both geographically and temporally—though her eyes sharpened to a focus even as her mate stepped out of the den.

If you see any white flowers with yellow centers while you’re out there, can you bring some back here? I forget what they’re called but I remember him mentioning they can help with pain and inflammation…

Were they daisies? No, that didn’t feel right. It wasn’t until Riley was long gone that she would suddenly remember: feverfew.

Ashlar. Riley had tried not to think too much of him since they’d found him in the bog. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to carry Ashlar’s memory - it was that, when faced with recalling to mind the man’s sodden skin, Riley had been aware of how easily it could have been him or Masque in Ashlar’s place.

The thought sent a shiver down his spine as he crawled out the dugout. He turned, one ear cupped back towards Masquerade. A white flower with a yellow center. He repeated, realizing he’d never really paid attention enough to the landscape to know if said flower even existed.

In any event, he turned and gave Masque a wave of his paw before he was off, figuring the first place to look would be the knoll not so far from the dugout.