Sleeping Dragon entangled bank

The rats inhabiting Sleeping Dragon had become few and far between. While not exactly inhibited by the famine, the wolves of the dragon had taken to nearly wiping out the population they shared. By now, with more and more green sprouting up every day, he felt confident that things are beginning to change. It might still take time but with new life brought even more. Rabbits and squirrels and other creatures that lived off the surrounding vegetation might begin their reemergence soon and, ultimately, he could hope for a herd of two soon that might pass through with the promise of food. 

For now, Gavriel settles for the limp rodent hanging from his jaws. His killing blow had snapped the creature nearly in two and he'd devoured part of it before thinking about his purpose. The rest of it, at least a bigger portion, remains and he begins his trek to search for @Gyda. The blood and fur filling his mouth soon becomes a test on whether or not he can hold out. He could eat it, bones and all, and no one would even notice, but the guilt bubbles enough in his stomach that he might regurgitate what he'd taken in. Swallowing the lump, he actively begins the search. First, her den, and if not there he'd move on somewhere else.

Thus far being pregnant was not what Gyda had expected it to be. Surely, she had her “glowing” moments but mostly she was aggressive and irritated because of the constant pang of hunger in her bones, worried for the lives of the children that grew within her, and generally a hot mess. Or maybe just a mess. Her hormones were a wreck — and she realized her own naivety with a reluctance. She had been with Nerian through her pregnancy but Nerian's had clearly been simpler. The priestess had not been trying to lead a pack and survive through a famine. Not for the first time a rush of hot, white jealousy surged through her, followed by a very taboo and shameful rise of anger at the Gods. Ragnar had once told her that they give with one hand and take with the other — she had been too young to understand the true meaning of those words but now she saw and she understood. If there was any comfort to be drawn from: it was the fact that she could feel her children moving. She was determined to keep both herself and them alive — regardless of the cost — and if they were anything like her: she knew that they would not give up either.

Or so this was how she managed to comfort herself.

Until she saw the first sprig of green — a small but mighty beacon of hope and without much warning the pregnant Viking Queen began to weep. It was out of joy that the very small sprig of green brought her — a reassurance from Frigga and Freyja (or so Gyda had chosen to see it) that made her latch onto her hope with a ferocity that surprised even herself. She had not once ever considered that Frigga and Freyja would abandon her or her children but the seeds of doubt had been sown and just as quickly had they been vanquished. She had been determined to make her patrols though she grew rounder with what seemed to be every passing day and she had to stop often. A part of her was irritated by her new found limitations and it occurred to her briefly that when they were born it would be some time before she could see to her physical duties. Diplomatic she could still conduct from her birthing den but she would be indisposed until her babes could eat regurgitated meat ...and until she decided who she could trust with watching them.

She had time — but not as much as she would have liked, she considered. Already a month had passed by in a blur and soon she knew on archaic maternal instincts, she would be giving birth. A few weeks, perhaps. Already, she had begun digging a birthing den the instinct to seek a safe place to bring her children into the world strong. She had reclined back gingerly upon her haunches, taking in the time to rest, a familiar figure catching her eye. “Gavriel,” She called to him, unable to help but realize that this would truly be the first time she'd spoken with him (in more than passing perhaps) since the night they had consummated their ...deal. She was starving for company, though the tangy scent of blood that lingered on his own scent — familiar as it had became to her — reminded her that she was also hungry in general. Not a huge surprise for the shield-maiden since her appetite had grown with the swell of her sides. Her ...no their babes were ravenous little beasts and though she did not yet know them Gyda loved them more than she could ever express to anyone.

It does not take long to find her and when her scent becomes prominent, he turns to continue his search. Fortunately, he doesn’t have to wait long and the rodent swings in his jaws once he comes to a stop in surprise. Gavriel smiles through the kill and, upon realizing his entire purpose, lowers his had and drops the kill at her feet. It is small and he’d subconsciously taken a bite out of it before he’d begun searching, so he isn’t sure how much it’ll make a difference but it’s better than nothing. He hopes.

“It’s not much,” he murmurs with his head low and tail waving a few times behind him. If they were not in a famine, Gavriel knew he’d be able to bring her things left and right, but seeing her belly well while the rest of her shrinks hurts him, hurts her even more, and so his frown remains as he nudges it a few inches ahead of him.

Her lips parted as he dropped the kill at her feet, and while she supposed it should not have come as a surprise to her, nevertheless it did. She fidgeted slightly, saliva pooling in her mouth as she lowered her head towards it to inhale it's scent before she looked back up at him, taking him in. She knew the extra effort the Dragons were making to ensure that she was fed. Perhaps they saw it as their duty to her but Gyda only saw it as a kindness. They were all starving and at times, she felt guilty as she toyed with the knowledge that she may very well be the best fed out of them all. No one complained — at least not to the viking queen's face, anyhow. For some reason her heart felt like it was in her throat though not of guilt. Of gratitude instead, accompanied by a soft flutter of warmth in her stomach as she studied him. Perhaps it was her spiked hormones and at times overly emotional state but she couldn't be sure. She was fond of the grounder, of course, but this felt different. Naturally, there was no way for her to tell, in her current state, that it wasn't just an emotion tied to the children he had blessed her with, sure that it could easily be brushed off in her state. So, she kept it to herself.

“Thank you,” Gyda accepted his catch with grace and a small pang of guilt. Yet, it truly wasn't her fault. It wasn't as if Gavriel and her had known a famine would hit. One day everything had been fine and the next everything was far from fine; and at this point Gyda tried to do the best she could running off her very knowledge of her pregnant step-mother. Of course, their cases were largely different though. Nerian hadn't been enduring a famine while she carried Ragnar's offspring. “Would you split it with me?” Gyda inquired. It felt like the right thing to offer even if she suspected he might turn her down. "I must confess I feel guilty for the offerings everyone brings me." And it was true. Her children were her world but so were her subordinates and that was a hard tight rope to balance upon.

She takes the offering and he smiles, taking a step back so she can grab it without him looming over. It's small, and meager, and likely wouldn't provide much but it will hopefully get her to her next meal. He spends most of his time searching for something to bring back and not a lot of time around her as perhaps he should. A battling though that frequents his attention and his suddenly frustrated with himself so much that he barely hears the offer.

"Oh, no," he tells her as he drops his head, ears against the back of his head. If there's a chance her leader could make it to full term with any amount of strength, they'd be able to provide the rest, but right now it's against them. And if they don't survive, Gavriel can at least say he did what he could. "I've already eaten," he lies, flashing a sunken in grin.

With a swish of his tail as Gyda takes the kill, he stays for a while to talk, but ultimately takes his departure to continue his patrol.