Deepwood Weald Ahead by a Century

welcome to the world, BÉBÉS!

She dreamt of an owl, and stared into its two gleaming, amber eyes. It stared back into hers, and unfurled its great wings as it hovered miraculously in mid-air. Shimmering, iridescent, its feathers ruffled on an invisible breeze and like dust lifted by a sweeping hand, the shimmering pulsed and collected, and formed figures on each of the owl’s wings. 

She saw faces that she did not know; four on one wing, and two on another. Slowly, they came into focus, and she thought she recognized the features of the pair on the right wing. The owl’s wings beat; and the pair disappeared. 

For some reason, she felt despair, in spite of the fact that she had no idea who those wolves were. 

The owl’s wings beat again, and it soared overhead, brushing past her shoulder only to pivot and with a screech, sink its talons into her abdomen. 

Simbelmyne screamed in surprise as she awoke, feeling the muscles deep in her belly clench and shudder. ”@Dutch!” She blurted his name, and gritted her teeth together to get herself through the prolonged clenching of muscles. She grunted as it passed, and began to dig at the bedding within her den.

It was time! Her heart thudded wildly. But as sudden as the contraction had come, it had past- leaving in its wake her heightened heartbeat and a feeling of general anxiety. What should she do? When would the next one happen? What if something went wrong?

”I don’t know how to do this,” She pleaded with him. ”Don’t leave!” She added hastily; she would not have him be away if she needed him to comfort her or worse- put her out of her misery. 

She was over-reacting, of course; but it was her first litter, and while she had seen her sisters give birth before, they had done so with many aunts and sisters and their mother as well, assuring them every step of the way. Suddenly, she reaped the consequences of having been so standoffish; she had no idea who to ask for. 

”Can you call for someone? Someone who can help?” Her mind immediately went to Chakliux’s wives, nearby in Moontide. While she was not close with them, she knew Dutch would feel comfortable asking them for help.

Looking for 1 healer and/or mother

It was time — he knew the song and dance well enough. And he was worried for his wife on some level, but he didn't let it show. He came to her side with an encouraging smile, ready to assist as needed. For a moment it seemed he would need to run off in search of a doctor, but he remembered that @Minnow had been with moonwoman's party of midwives. He thought of Tullik as well, but knowing that Marina and Chakliux were away, leaving her with all five children, he did not yet call for her. Instead he called for Minnow and @Raindrop, hoping that Sumac would be able to take over watching the children while Simbelmyne labored.

Fervently, he wished for his own mother.

"They will come," he was sure! But, "Let us get you comfortable while we wait. What else can I do, mere rani?"

He thought to call for his father as well — if nothing more, just to have a runner nearby in case the need came. But he did not want to overwhelm his wife, so he left it alone, for now.

Raindrop heard the urgent cry from beyond the plateau. It came from the mouth of Dutch, he was family, in more ways than one, and so she would be there. 

She kissed each of her children, then placed a kiss upon her husband’s dark face, grabbing meat from their personal cache, and made her way to the forest of Morningside. 

Once she made it to the border, she called out to Dutch, telling him of her arrival, and crossed the border lines. She followed the scent trail of Dutch and Simbelmyne to their den. Crouching low at the entrance, placed the meat aside and cooed reassuring words to the wife and a warm glance to Dutch. 

“It is okay. Your body knows what to do, it is natural. Your husband is here to comfort you, and so am I.”

She panted softly as she waited for the next round of pain to come. Dutch howled, assured her- and she remained on edge in spite of it all. She licked her lips anxiously, tufted ears turned back. Whale-eyed, she tried to remain positive. 

To her husband she spoke between a series of short puffs of breath. ”No, love- it will be;” her breath caught as she felt a twinge. It was one of the children moving, not another contraction. ”I have seen my sisters through labour before but they never said it hurt so-“ her words were cut off by another contraction. She held her breath and crouched through it. When the pain lessened, she began breathing again, and began pacing.

And so it continued for some time- she paced and panted, pausing when a contraction stopped her in her tracks, and she began to notice that the breaks in between were getting shorter. 

Just in time, a woman arrived; one who smelled of children, of Moontide. Simbelmyne’s lower back ached; her pelvis felt as if all the weight of her midsection pushed against it. ”It does not feel very natural to meeeeeee!” Came her reply, lightly sarcastic, and pinched by the onset of yet another contraction. ”How much more of this?” She asked when the pain had subsided.

He did not like seeing her in pain. The panther felt more helpless than ever as he watched Simbelmyne wince and pace, her pretty feature pinching daintily in what he thought of as an astounding show of strength. Usually, his mother would have snapped or hollered at him by now.

"You are doing wonderfully," he assured her at various points, deeply admiring of how she maintained her calm nature even at such a time as this. He had always thought her strong in the way that all women seemed strong to him — but this changed something. Slowly but surely, he began to see someone new.

Simbelmyne carried the day, but he was grateful all the same when Raindrop arrived. He made quick introductions to the two women, so that they might know what to call one another, and remained dutifully nearby.

"Soon," he told her, though he did not know for sure. His mother had always wanted to be told that it would be soon.

Raindrop’s maternal instincts kicked in, and she tried her best to coax Simbelmyne. 

She stuck close to the wife of Dutch, whispering words of encouragement. “Simbelmyne, you must soon lie down. The labor will take as long as it seems necessary, but the rewards are much greater.” She paced with the woman, as close as Simbelmyne would let her. “Breathe.”

Raindrop was no midwife, but she would do her best. To comfort Simbelmyne was top priority.

It was then that a voice called from the borders — one intimately familiar to the ears of one in particular. The call spoke with love and grace — that she was here, and that she was near enough to be called on if needed.

"It is the black bear!" he exclaimed, eyes bright as he looked lovingly at his wife. "My mother. She came just in time!"

It felt like a better one then to Dutch, but he was quiet then, letting the women work. As eager as he was to see his mother, he would not leave his post. They could reunite when he had grandchildren to show her!

She gave her husband a pained expression when he complimented her. Was she really doing all that well? She’d been moody and distant during her pregnancy and now here she was- overwhelmed, flummoxed, impatient; none of the things that would make her a good wife. 

”How soon is soon?” She asked, exhasperated, unable to keep her temper in check. She looked to Raindrop whose well-intended soothing served only to irk her more. She rolled her eyes so dramatically that it was nearly audible, before she was hit with another crippling contraction. Karma. 

She didn’t feel like laying down, the only peace she got was when she kept moving. She tried, just to humour the woman- but found herself too uncomfortable, and began to pace again. She didn’t hear the woman’s howl, and barely noticed her husband’s glee, even when he announced that it was his mother who had called. 

Her brain was busy. She was not interested in meeting her mother-in-law, not like this. She summoned a smile that was both parchment thin and short-lived, and nodded as if to say very well dear, but I can’t think about that now.

Around and around she went, crouching when a contraction came, and trying to keep her breaths even in between. The time between them shortened even more still. ”Ugh,” she grunted, when her pain ceased momentarily. ”I need air,” She said, and swept past her husband to emerge into the daylight, and take in a deep, replenishing breath of air.

He gave a helpless shrug.

"Before the end of the night, certainly," he hazarded, having timed her contractions, "But more probably within the next few hours. There is no way to know for certain."

There were better ways, but he did not know them. He looked to Raindrop, but it seemed they were both a little at a loss. Later, when Easy called, he thought to call back to her with summons, but nothing was wrong. He would let Simbelmyne rest without more company, for now.

"Do you feel like walking to the creek?" he wondered, following he out and stretching deep to rid himself of growing anxiety. The creek wasn't too far, and — "I have heard it said that walking can help them come faster."

He looked to Raindrop to see what she thought of this. They were both first-time mothers, but Raindrop had at least finished this part before!

Easy can be skipped <3

She could see and feel the mood changes in Simbelmyne, and she understood. She decided it was best to give Simbelmyne free rein at this point, and did not follow directly when she left the den. There was a howl from the borders, and Raindrop’s own eyes lit up when Dutch announced it was his mother. Raindrop looked then to Dutch as he suggested walking and she nodded. “Yes. Dutch is right. We will do whatever you are comfortable with. Walking does help ease the muscle cramping.” She said, her gaze turning now, once more, to Simbelmyne. 

I’m good with anything. Happy that Easy is back though. :D

She closed her eyes, and tried to pretend that nothing else existed besides herself and the soft rustle of wind in the forest. It was easy to get lost in the beauty of the Weald, even when there was a pack of wolf children inside her desperately trying to squat and declare this as their permanent home. 

Her husband’s voice brought her back to reality just in time for her to feel another bone-shuddering contraction. She weathered it, wondering if her contractions were getting easier to bear because she was going into shock; she certainly hoped not. 

Raindrop spoke up, and Simbelmyne yet again rolled her eyes. ”You tell em lay down, now you tell me to walk,” she declared, irritated by the change in plans. ”If you do not know what you are doing, you can go,” Her voice became pinched as she felt her muscles cramp again. Suddenly, she began to feel pressure, and the need to push.

”Clear the way!” She said as she brushed past both wolves and back into the den. There, she circled and lay down, grunting through her pain, until she felt at last that something had passed through her, and into her world. She sat up and found at her hind end, a small pup still encased in her birth sac. 

In the quiet wake, she cleaned the pup and nuzzled the boy until he breathed, crying out at first while she turned him over gently to free him completely. His fur was ashy grey, but noticeably darker along his back and shoulders; on his face was a mask, one quite similar to her own. 

”A boy!” She breathed softly as she nudged him to her side. She took her time to make sure he was clean, and to make sure that he latched on well to get access to her milk. 

She was given a break; in that time, she would croon softly to her newborn, and beam proudly at her husband.

Ah — here was more familiar territory. Simbelmyne had a few pointed words for Raindrop — perhaps for them both! — and the way that Dutch murmured, "Mere rani," to himself was not quite an admonishment. Her tone crawled up his spine in the most pleasant of ways, and after offering a contrite glance in Raindrop's direction, he followed her to the den with big, stupid heart eyes.

And then, for a moment, he stood locked in the doorway, fascinated by the birth of his — not his first child, exactly. But the first that would be his. Theirs.

He crept closer while she cleaned him, and was finally, a while later, close enough to touch the very tip of his nose to the fat little body that hardly even looked like a wolf.

They were always so small.

"He looks like you," he declared, his voice barely a breath through a wide smile.

But soon enough, it was time once more to get out of then way.

Kitimat was born at a most inconvenient time — in the middle of a nap. Or it had been a nap, rather, before his bed was suddenly squeezing him incessantly like an over-freindly python. And then that go sort of soothing after a while, but —

But this? This was not pleasant. He wanted to lodge a complaint. He wanted to speak to Simbelmyne's manager. He wanted —

Oh. He just wanted milk.

All was well.

aditya paced the area around the birthing den, waiting for news; waiting for orders.

easy's call sent his heart lodged hard into his throat—she was here?! and did her babies fare well—?

but she could care for herself. this was, he understood, symbelmyne's first litter, and she was the priority. 

adi's breath came short, and he pulled himself into scenting distance—if they wanted him, they could pull him in, easily. but if not, he could disperse.

still, he wanted to know—grandchildren. how many?!

just one post from me!

sorry to keep y'all waiting! <3

In the aftermath of her son's birth, she glowed. Dutch came near to see their child, and she welcomed him with a tired, but proud smile. "He does," She replied- obviously pleased to see that her baby resembled her so. To her knowledge, her markings came both her mother and her maternal grandfather; it would be some time yet before the babe's ears showed any indication of being tufted, but she would hope so. 

Soon enough, though, she felt as if her temperature was rising. She began to pant softly, and felt the urge to stir and pace once more- but with the pup at her side, she dared not move. If Raindrop came within the den, she would be ushered out by the (temporarily) unforgiving mother, who once again became agitated in the moments before her next birth. 

With one child suckling at her side, she gave birth to the second- a girl, whose ribs, shoulders, flanks, tail and face were dark- but running along her shoulders was a shade of beige similar to Dutch's fur- and her belly and legs were pale as well. She cleaned the little girl (@Sirimiri), and nosed her alongside her brother but hardly had time to celebrate before she felt the urge to push again. 

The third child came easily- dark-furred and sleek, aside from four beige socks and some hints as well at his chest and belly. Thus, her second son (@Katmai) was born, cleaned, and tucked alongside his brother and sister. Elated, Simbelmyne looked up to her husband, trembling with fatigue, but thriving with the joys of early motherhood. "Three!" She exclaimed softly, as her children nursed. 

And three she thought it would be- calm, fuzzy tiredness crept in, and left her believing that her labour was over. She fawned over the children, and dozed off for a short while in the protective watch of her husband. 

Her eyes opened when she thought she heard an owl hoot; and the dream she'd been having returned, and with it a pang of pain deep within her. She gasped, and moved away from the children for a moment, gesturing for Dutch to come closer to keep them warm. She remained crouched not far away, panting. Another sting caused her to yelp, and she sank to her side once more, straining as she brought forth first one dark pup, and then another, followed by a small trickle of blood. One wriggled- a tiny girl (@seelie) who was lively in spite of her size, but the other...

She could not bring air to his lungs, or life to his heart. 
He was followed shortly thereafter by a sixth child- and once he too had been cleaned and rubbed, whispered to and nudged, she realized that she knew the faces of the two still children. 
On the owl's right wing had been the faces of her four surviving children; on the left, those who did not survive. 

She didn't know whether to celebrate or grieve. It felt wrong to be filled with joy, having four beautiful children, when two had not survived...But it also felt wrong to deny her living children the celebration of their life as well. 

Not knowing what else to do, she held them close- all six of them- reached for her husband, and wept.