Lion Head Mesa all i want for christmas is

Dated to yesterday!

The sun was high in the sky when she felt the first sharp pains of her body's protests. Serein's first thought, past the panic, was stark; I'm not ready. She sucked in a breath and cast her gaze to the sky. I'll never be ready.

It was a lonely, long-suffering agony. It was a penance. It was her red-dripping reward for daring to reach for something, daring to think she could afford to want. It was the small lifeless bundle of her firstborn, cooling too quickly, never stirring even for a moment. It was the echo of dread on her tongue, the sharp churn of her stomach.

It was two tiny, helpless little lives to follow the pain. Serein didn't bother to give them names; who knew if they would survive the night? She simply gathered them close and let her eyes drift shut. That was how @Kemal would find her, if he bothered to check.

Disa was drawn by the smell and the nervous shiver in the air that told her something had begun.

She kept her distance. There was nothing she could say or do to ease Serein's pain, and she was not keen on seeing anything larger than acorn exit any orifice, ever.

The day wore on. The process of birth intensified. Disa stayed, chewing in a leathery piece of skin left over from Beau's gifted leg.

It was long dark when she finally approached the whelping den, guided by what moonlight managed to break through the clouds. Mother and babes were mere presences in the dark, pulsating with heat. Except one.

Disa crept closer, nudging the stiff little body. 

"I can take it to the garden," she whispered in the dark. The stillborn would make excellent fertilizer. Perhaps to something tough, and thorny, and dangerous. "Unless you want to eat it."

Nobody had told Kemal of the birth. He only found out through the scents of the wind when he came to the base of the mesa. When the realization hit, he immediately broke into a sprint.

He was first frustrated, moreso when he saw Disa in the whelping den. He hadn't expected Serein to try and ask for him, but he would think that Disa would have the sense to call him. He didn't air his grievances loudly, only through a heavy scowl before his eyes moved to Serein and their two healthy children. It was the presence of the two women that kept him from outright crying.

They had really come, finally. He was a father.

Kemal dropped to the ground, nose twitching and a smile he couldn't contain - it was the most emotion his face had shown since life with Narin. Have you named them?

It was Disa who found her first, and maybe she should have expected it. Serein stiffened only slightly at the woman's appearance in her den. The fur along her back rippled once, then settled. She might have spoken then, but within moments Kemal had joined the women. He seemed displeased.

Serein flinched as if struck, ears pasting to her skull, and dropped her head to hover defensively over her two children. But Kemal was already softening at the sight of them, speaking to her of — of names. So he wasn't displeased with her...? She swallowed hard.

I - no... She glanced at Disa. Take it - take her to the garden. Please. Serein reached out a trembling paw to push the cold little corpse toward Disa. Only then did her gaze find Kemal again. If they get through the night, they... they can have names in the morning. Serein let out a breath. Her whole body felt deflated, raw on the inside in a way that seemed wrong. All she wanted was to sleep.

Disa placed her paw on the cold little girl.

"Her," she repeated. Gently, taking the utmost care, she scooped the unmade life into her mouth and stole away into the dark.

She was given a name and a funeral.

The garden soil was soft from compost activity, and it did not take Disa long to dig a first and final cradle by the south wall. Hard-won gifts accompanied Serein's firstborn on her journey back into earth. A strip of bark from the Heartwood. A glimmering stone from Luneshale Pass. A perfectly preserved specimen of sacred datura, wickedly poisonous, destined to grow that spring -  and spread and thrive and flower bright, long past the end of Disa's life and the bloodlines of Verapaz.

Nightshade, the gifter had called it.

Disa breathed one last breath in the child's soft ear, then covered her in duvet of still-steaming soil.

Nightshade slept eternal, held close by the garden of poisons.

Kemal was sad to see the third go, but he did not let it dull his happiness for long. It was a matter of life, and it was all the more reason to be grateful for what he had.

Waiting until Disa had cleared out, Kemal lays on the other side of the puppies. Paws just barely touching Serein's, closing a circle of warmth and protection around the children he already loves so much. Thank you. He tells her, maybe because he doesn't know what else to say. To Kemal, it all feels like a complete miracle.

I'll stay here until the morning, He decides without hesitation. To take care of them, and you.

He almost has everthing he could want.

Almost.

He won't let it slip away this time.

And you. Serein softened at Kemal's quiet words, though she cast a longing glance toward where Disa had disappeared with her firstborn. Her eyelids fluttered closed after a moment. She stayed upright, but she swayed slightly, feeling the weight of her exhaustion hit her all at once.

Kemal's presence was a comfort then, a balm to the spike of panic that shot through her even through the lethargy. They were so small. Suppose she crushed one in her sleep? Or lost one? But no — there were two sets of eyes on the newest and tiniest members of Verapaz, at least for tonight. She let out a breath and lowered her head to rest on her paws.

The girl looks like you, she murmured idly, already drifting slowly into sleep.

Kemal stays silent as Serein lulls into a sleep, eyes resting over what fate has gifted him.

He smiles as he looks down at the little girl. Beren, he's already decided. A name that says she's strong and clever.

But for the boy, his mind runs dry. Something in his heart aches. He loves him, he knows he does, but somewhere Kemal's heart has a wound yet to heal. He refuses to think too hard about it now, refuses to ruin his happy moment. The name will be left to Serein.

In silence he sits through the night, dutifully watching over then den.