Redhawk Caldera carry on phenomenon

Post dated for tomorrow because I know I'm gonna be busy.

Since she had awoken that morning, Fox could tell that things were nearing the end. She refused food that Peregrine had brought for her, and she was antsy throughout the early afternoon, requesting that Peregrine give her some space. Eventually, he complied (praise science), and Fox managed to get a few winks of sleep before dusk settled over Redhawk Caldera. She awoke with that familiar feeling of (completely normal, yet completely uncomfortable) pain, and her body went into autopilot.

Fox circled the den over and over, laying down only to get up a few moments later. With or without her consent, her body was going to keep on doing its thing. The contractions grew closer, stronger, and increasingly painful. At this point, Fox was panting heavily, laying on the ground, and generally unattractive. If she could have, she would have been sweating her balls off. Canines, as you may or may not know, only sweat through their paw pads though, which meant she resorted to panting.

Her body signaled for her to push, and so Fox did just that. It wasn't long before @Ferret (as he would later be named) came into the world. Fox snatched him up and cleaned him before the next pup was ready to make his appearance.

Everything went mostly according to plan on the assembly line. He was given four paws, one tail and two temporarily sealed eyes just as ordered. His nose was turned on, but his ears were programmed to start up later. There was, however, a mix up in the painting department and he ended up sprayed according to a palette and template meant for a certain mustelid of the plains, but that was minor, and he passed inspection and would be the first to roll out of the plant. Of course, if you asked him later, he would tell you that he fought for that honor and won it after beating his fetal-siblings into a very early submission.

But two things were overlooked. As his mother cleaned him and then presumably shoved him over to her belly, she would learn that the chief in charge of teeth, while hammering each tooth into his gum for their usual delayed showing, missed a single solitary canine on the upper left side of his jaw. This rare, tiny natal tooth would pinch her nipple as he began to suckle, likely ensuring he would be her favorite for subjecting her to such discomfort from day one. There was also a printing error on the manifest so that when he arrived at one of the last stops, where he was to receive his guiding spirits before being released into the world, he would wind up with an angel on one shoulder, as normally prescribed....

...and 500 devils on the other.

"Oops," said the clerk who had been the one to finalize the work order. Then with an innocent whistle, she would burn the evidence and hope it all panned out in the end.

Thus, code name Troublepaws was born.

For the record, I don't really care about posting order. You can post as soon as you're born'd! :)

One down, only the sky above knew how many more to go. Fox promptly shoved the first one to his place at the source of food, and not a moment after did another wave of pushing engulf her. She grunted ever-so-unladylike as another body spilled out onto the dirt floor. So focused on the second place winner at life, she didn't even notice the slight irritation that Ferret was causing her poor ol' nipple.

Next in line was the wolf who would one day be named @Gannet for his white coat and black socks and stalkings. "Another boy," Fox thought idly. Her fist litter had been two boys and two girls, even if one of the boys hadn't made it to his first full moon. Perhaps this litter would turn out to be the same. But there was work to be done, and little time for musing of such things. Fox unceremoniously picked up the white child by his head and plopped him down between her paws, licking away the afterbirth.

Once that was out of the way, she set him down beside his brother and was able to take a few breaths before the next round.

The second boy followed his brother into the world with a perplexed sort of meekness, a position that would possibly prove to be a somewhat sustained state throughout much of his early life.  A soft, confused squeak was about all he managed before he was promptly shoved into warmth and quieted with the new fun that was food. 

Attention successfully captured, he bucked down and set in, perfectly content following the assumed order - shut up and eat.  Life had been good before and was good now, the change in scene already one hundred percent accepted by a mind not near stubborn enough to hold onto what it had had before.

Even though she wished for more rest, Fox knew she wasn't about to get it. Her body made her well aware of this fact by convulsing again, sending shooting pains throughout her abdomen. "Fucking hell," she groaned, straining as she pushed yet again. The third one was more difficult (for whatever reason), but she managed to make it work with another push. Thus, the third pup (who would one day be called @Whip-poor-will) was born. Wheezing now, and damn near out of energy, Fox plucked him from the ground and pulled him toward her chest, cleaning off the birthing sack so that he could breathe.

"You little fuckers sure aren't making this easy," she scolded, then smiled. This lull would only last a few seconds, Fox knew. Once they started coming out, they'd keep coming out until there was nothing left in there but stuff that was meant to stay in there.

Flails into existance.

Thankfully, birth was not something Whip would remember as he aged. It was a terrifying affair. Had he any concept to compare it to, or the capacity to do so, perhaps he would have felt as if he were a were an unpleasant turd. Still within the comfort of his amniotic sac, Whip had no concept of anything... but then the world simply was.

With the help of his mother, Whip finally escaped his membranous prison and breathed his first breath. Instinct drove him, and he sought the warmth his mother provided... and food. Food too.

Last post from me! Feel free to mingle amongst yourselves. :)

Well, maybe she didn't know. The lull lasted for at least a couple of minutes, and she furiously continued cleaning the three pups. Once those minutes were up, though, her body convulsed again. Before she knew it, the final pup was brought into this utterly crazy world with a thump. Later, he would be known as @Peter Pan. For now, though, he was just the last in a series of four. He was smaller, and Fox immediately thought of the little Derp that had not made it past his first few weeks. She hoped that this one would not meet the same fate.

The mother cleaned him up, then shoved him toward a teat. Thankfully, that seemed to be it. Four boys. That thought didn't really dawn on her just yet, in her exhausted state. When she awoke after a very long nap, though, she would suddenly fear the next few months. Four effing boys. It was going to be a rough year.

Long before the soul had taken the form of the tiny cub born today, it had wandered through the universe. Among the stars, listening to the everlasting hum of particles coming together and disintegrating, seeing the galaxies dying and being reborn, traveled through black holes, experienced, how nothingness reasembled and turned into something entirely new. And having this feeling of being part of it all and at the same time having a mind unique and one of the kind. It was a carefree existance - easy and simple. 

Therefore the stark change, when he was brought in this world, the myriad of new senses and awarness of one's body, was physically painful. He let out series of quiet cries and whimpers, as his mother washed him and nudged him towards her belly so that he could nurse - the only form of protest he was capable of, because the novelty of everything was too much for the young soul that had roamed free for so long and was now trapped within a feeble mass of flesh and bone, wrapped in complete darkness. Eventually he calmed down and after the first meal he fell asleep, finding out that this way he could still reach the stars.

Peregrine gave Fox her space during the labor and delivery, squashing the urge to stick his head inside the den just about every fourteen seconds. He paced outside, stopping often to cock his head and listen to the noises coming from within the whelping den. It sounded like everything was going according to plan. He silently coached her, though every thought in his head immediately flew out the window when he heard the first and unmistakable cry of a newborn.

Oh, man, he was itching to look inside now, just for one second. But Peregrine waited, pacing and fidgeting, until a telling hush suddenly fell. That was his cue if there ever was one. He burst into the den, looking first at the flopped Fox—she had promptly passed out—and then at the four bundles tucked beside her. His heart did flipflops as he moved closer, pressing his nose to Fox's warm cheek; he was rewarded with a faint flutter of eyelashes.

Then his attention turned to his babies, his four sons, just as he had predicted. His eyes were drawn to the nearest pup (Peter), whose small size reminded the Alpha male of little "Derp." Hopefully he wouldn't suffer his older brother's fate. Peregrine touched his nose to the child's head in welcome. Then he moved onto the next pup (Whip), snuffling at his little face. The third pup in the row (Gannett) was on his side and the father gave his pale ribs a little tickle. The fourth and final pup (Ferret)—the largest of the batch and the clear firstborn—was given a gentle, fatherly kiss.

Immediately, he settled down on the den floor, large black body curling protectively around the squirming litter and his head near his unconscious mate's so that he could occasionally pepper her sleeping face with proud, affectionate kisses.