Stavanger Bay when the river took flight

*whispers: "I can't wait any longer"*

It was dark inside the den, though the sun was already climbing high. She'd retreated into the stone den as soon as the contractions made her feel as though she was in danger of falling off the narrow ledge, but it'd been some hours since then, and her labor had not been kind.

Finally, though, the planets seemed to align. With a quiet wail, Doe pushed forth the tiny body she'd been warring with for the better of half of an hour. The pain and pressure and desparation of the moment seemed to fade as she lifted a messy leg and caught sight of the immobile lump that laid there. And for an instant, the little shewolf could not bring herself to bring it nearer. Fear beyond anything she'd ever known had a tight and sudden grip on her heart, and for an instant, she could do nothing but tremble. She wanted her mother. Wanted Szymon. Skellige. Furiosa. Someone to tell her it would be okay; to pick the thing up already and see whether it was dead, whether it was worth saving. For an instant, she was terrified.

But the next instant, the thing twitched - a shiver in the dark. And Doe's head dipped forward as though she'd done this a million times, and the still, small babe was picked up in gentle, loving jaws. Doe cleaned its nose and mouth first, and then licked away the rest of the fluid that marred its thin, silky pelt.

In the dark, she could not tell what color he was - only that it was a strong, healthy boy. And her first instinct was to call him Riverbone there on the spot, but already, she knew that this would be a grave insult to her pack. To her king. To the wolf that she'd become. Because this pup was a Cairn, and he should have a name that fit the title. A good name, a strong one. One that would put him on par with great wolves like his father, Szymon. Like Skellige, their king. Even like Ksenia, the fearsome wraith that they were told might someday return with a vengence.

Doe wanted him to be able to meet her when she came. With flashing eyes and snapping teeth, and with a name that meant he was owned by the sea, and not the tiny, fleeting inlets that her former alpha had been named for.

"@Isengrim," she breathed, pressing a soft kiss to the child's head. And there would be more - but for the moment, Doe drew the boy against her side and revelled in the newness of him.

isengrim' first contact with the world was an uncomfortable one. one moment he was suspended, part of some non-feeling and insensate void. the next he was made aware of the sting of discomfort, and drew his first death on earth in the form of a piteous and warbling wail. 

unthinking, unseeing, and unhearing, the pup felt cold and vulnerable until he was touched by some comforting embrace. with a soft snuffle he instinctively squirmed in the direction of the touch, driven by an inexorable force to seek the warmth of his mother's flank.

Doe's tail swept over the ground in excitment as noise and movement came to the little life she's created. "Iss," she cooed at him, nudging him even when he found warmth against her flank. She did not want him to sleep, did not want to leave him be. She could not wrap her mind around the fact that she'd made him, he'd come from her body - and that one day, he'd be a big wolf like her.

In all her hopes and dreams, she'd never once thought that it would be like this. That love for them would be so fierce and instantaneous.

She did not, however, have long to dwell on such well-guarded truths. Soon enough, Doe could feel it building again. The pain was worse this time, and even as she tried to prepared herself, a ragged cry broke the charged silence in the den. "Mama!"

But Hind did not come, and before Doe knew it there were two more squiggly little beings tarred and feathered behind her. A laugh of relief came from the ragged shewolf as she pulled them one-at-a-time between her paws, and cleaned the feathers and dust and birthing goop from their bodies until she had a pair of pale little girls between her paws. A smile so wide it hurt was stretched across her face as she gaze down at them. In the dark, they looked identical to each other and very similar to their brother, but Doe didn't let that bother her, now. In her mind, they were Szymon's spitting image, and for that, she adored them.

"@Julep," she said, nuzzling the one she'd first picked up. Doe spent some time looking between the two and eventually decided that Julep was a bit larger than her sister. The larger child went with her brother against Doe's flank, but the new mother spent some time giving the nameless one a slightly firmer bath, trying to encourage life and movement. Though the little girl was clearly alive, she was not quite as big or as strong as the other two. It didn't bode well for her.

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A push, a pull... Those were all new things, as was the empty space she felt when who she would one day call brother was ejected. Everything around her was telling her to follow him, her instinct, her body, the walls of uterus closing in around her. Was there even a reason to resist? Was there even a way?

Cold was the first thing Julep would not remember about her birth, but in the moment it felt like everything. A chill ran down her weak spine, prompting a shriek from her tiny lungs and the whining that came after. It didn't stop, not while she remained cold, not while she felt vulnerable, which lasted until another followed her down Doe's body. Only then she got her mother's attention.

She was picked up effortlessly - delicately too - and when she was put back down the cold ceased to exist. Her warmth, that she would always remember, and that was so far the best thing there could be.

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she was little, and she was the stark opposite of fierce. no, when she was dispelled from her mothers womb she felt only exhaustion. the babe wished to sleep, but was firstly roused by a series of touches from her mother. even still, the young one wanted to rest. she let out the smallest squeal of noncompliance before another touch brought about a new, strange feeling in her. it was the most uncomfortable thing in the world, and she would never enjoy it. hunger was its name, but she did not know it! she probed her mothers chest and found nothing that she wanted there but for warmth, and she let out a frail cry that told of the life within her. she was a fierce little thing that hungered, and though she adored the warmth her mother had brought she desired something else, something nameless!

Worry ate at the young mother's belly as she continued to groom her smallest babe. The child's frailty astounded her; she'd never seen anything so delicate that she'd hadn't immediately proceeded to consume. And perhaps she should consume the poor girl. Doe felt a growing sense of shame in the pit of her stomach. The more she looked at the weak little creature, the more she desired to hide it away from the world. From Szymon.

"What's wrong?" Doe asked, ears laid back against her head. She nosed more insistently at the child as it continued to wiggle and whine, hoping now that it could be irritated into liveliness. She wished more than ever that Hind was with her; surely the seasoned mother would know what to do about the weak child. "Furiosa," she muttered to herself, remembering that someone much closer had similar wisdom to share.

For now, though, Doe laid the child beside Julep and Isengrim, deciding to forgoe naming it for the time being. If it survived the night, she would think of something to call it.

Eyes still fixed on the three small figures that laid against her, Doe bayed a long, low note. Her own voice echoed painfully off the walls of the Stone Den, but Doe knew that her packmates - and those in Donnelaith - would hear it as well. She hoped that @Szymon would be the first to arrive - Doe had little doubt that he'd been pacing around or killing something to pass this anxious time. She hadn't told him what she'd come here to do, but there were few secrets between the two mates despite the amount of things that had been left unspoken.

Doe also wondered if @Deirdre or @Skellige would come. Doubtlessly, the Sea King had other things to tend to, but Doe rather thought the Forest Queen would jump at any chance to see newborn pups. Too, the new mother hoped that the rest of her pack would trickle by, and those in Donnelaith, too. A runner would have to be sent to Ravensblood Forest to notify Furiosa and Arturo, of course - Doe wanted everyone to know that two beautiful pups had been added to Blackrock's ranks.

In the excitment of her musings, Doe almost did not recognize the feeling that was quickly overtaking her. Suddenly, though, and with little exertion from the mother but a violent shudder and a startled squawk, a fourth pup came into the world. This one was as large as the first two, but silent and immoble like the nameless girl. Doe lifted it toward her, trembling from exhaustion that gripped her anew.

This pup was brown; Doe recognized the muddy color even in the darkness - and lo, the sun was now fully in the sky, sending a long, reaching shaft of light through the small entrance to the Stone Den. The pup was the exact same shade of brown as Doe's own mother, Hind - and she was dead. Doe looked down at the still, sodden wretch, blinking hot tears from her eyes. Though it seemed a useless endeavor, the young mother began to cleanse the dead girl of dirt and birthing fluids, her rough tongue laving over the motionless body as delicately as it had her three living offspring.

the call had come, and deirdre had heard it. it was the eve before samhain, and deirdre knew the birth of doe was blessed. if any cubs did come to pass, they would know no torment and pass through the veil soon enough, unless they desired to stay in this world a while longer! deirdre paused before the borders, howling to any who would give her consent to cross the threshold to bear witness to doe's deed, her tail waving proudly, excitedly, behind her.

Rusty. Getting back in the swing of things!

For a time, the wolf who had skulked as omega had swaggered as beta — but Skellige’s disappointment in his wayward brother had struck Szymon several rungs down the hierarchical ladder he had worked so hard to climb. It was a fact that the black-banded Cairn carefully ignored; he continued with the duties that had been appointed him and devoted much of his time to Qilaq, Doe, and Doe’s stomach — a separate entity these days. As her pregnancy advanced, the Atoll spent more and more time in the Stone Den — usually, it seemed to Szymon, to fussily rearrange the feather-lined floor. It had become instinctive for Szymon to search for her there whenever he could not find her in the pampas grove, and when Doe’s first cry of travail had struck the air, he’d been on his way there to find her. The sharp wail of pain and effort had sliced through Szymon’s skull, striking him dumb, and he’d busied himself with a pelt of shaggy wool gleaned from a mountain goat kill for the better part of the last hour.

His worry had produced a fine blanket for mother and cubs — frenzied nibbles and licks had scored all of the sinew from it, and rubbing it against rock and sand had dried it appropriately. Now Szymon flinched, unable to ignore the ragged cry — “Mama!” — and he nearly killed himself trying to leap straight up the mountainside to get to his mate. They had weathered a few storms lately, but he would willingly dare her ire if it meant being close enough to touch her and assure himself that she was well. Adjusting his trajectory, Szymon climbed the crags in a more wolf-appropriate manner with his gift between his jaws, and the thick, heady scent of blood and new life assaulted his senses. His hackles flared, a wild disarray of urchin-like spines, as he cast his gaze suspiciously about — Doe’s cry of triumph was not long in coming and Deirdre’s answering call came swiftly in reply. He ought to have answered Skellige’s Chosen One, but he found that he was selfish over his family and kept his silence, blocking the light of the den with his lean and feral framework.

A low, appealing rumble spilled from his narrow jaws, smoothing into a croon of love and affection. The sight of his Doe alongside three healthy puppies — one of them noticeably smaller than the others — filled him with pride. Two of the children were as pale as Szymon himself, but the third was inkdark with dampness — and only now, the golden-eyed father noticed that Doe was busy cleaning a fourth child with fervor that bordered on ferocity. He ought to have waited before trespassing nearer, but emotion overruled good sense as Szymon stepped into the den with the warm, insulating fleece clasped securely between his jaws. He set it down, wondering if he should have brought food instead, but what came out of his mouth was simply, “Doe? I love you.”

is it my post? idk!! let me know <3

a new sensation fluttered to the right of him; he felt a warmth from julep's body, though he knew not the nature of the source. he knew only that comfort was good and discomfort was not, and with a little babble he squiggled in place. he was overwhelmed by the feeling of softness and warmth though for a moment it seemed to lift and he was left perplexed and cold. isengrim bawled and tried to crawl over julep to seek the absent flank of his mother -- and when he found it he let out a quiet yawn of content.

It's anyone's post <3

It was when Szymon walked in that the dark child took her first breath. It started as a painful croak, but by the time the little girl let out her first lungful of air, it was with enough force to turn it into a wail. Doe grinned, even as her ears flattened against her head. She knew in that moment that it was not just her husband's god that watched over her - the gods of her mother were there as well. For the child between her paws seemed to the young mother to be a perfect copy of Hind. And though Doe did not dare name her yet, a softening part of her heart began to call her Hind's Grandaughter. That was what she was.

With a happy whimper, Doe beckoned Szymon closer, wanting her mate to share in this joyful moment. Four pups - three girls and one boy - all alive. It was more than she'd dared to ask for, more than she'd ever hoped.

"They're beautiful, Sy," she breathed, tearing her eyes away from the four tiny, wiggly beans to gaze helplessly at Szymon. "Two of them look just like you - and this one, she looks like my mother." Only Isengrim's pelt was mysterious to her - Doe did not have a very good idea of what she looked like. Otherwise, she might've though he had a bit of her own coloration. "I won't name the little white one or the brown one yet, but the bigger girl is Julep, and the boy is Isengrim," she added, gushing a little over her little brood. Yellow eyes peered almost shyly up at her pale mate, her strong tower. "Do you like them?" she asked, hestiant.

Oddly, the small, helpless, fluttering noises of his children did not drive Szymon away; though his tattered ears swayed uncertainly upon his narrow skull, he moved forward eagerly at Doe’s beckoning and drew the fleece teasingly over her hips, dropping it without ceremony. “You are beautiful,” he countered staunchly, feeling somewhat sorry for the children whose color and patterning were made seemingly in his own image. He bent his head, preening at the base of her oversized ears, his golden eyes darting between his mate and their young with equal fondness. It was true that two of the puppies were notably smaller, but they had time to catch up — he would double his efforts in hunting and bring back food enough to ensure their burgeoning strength. “Hind would be proud,” he said, unsure as to whether or not he was lying. Would the red rock female be proud that her daughter had Chosen a lesser wolf? He couldn’t be sure, but determination rose within his breast to take again the rank equal to Doe’s someday. He would become worthy of his wife if he was not already.

“Julep,” he rumbled, reaching out with a muzzle that trembled as he touched the tip of his nose to his little girl. And, rolling the syllables with infinite care over his faulty tongue, “Isengrim,” he murmured, repeating the gesture to anoint his son with the wet of his nares. He could not resist examining the littler Nameless Ones in turn, butting the small pale creature in the direction of Doe’s flank with frank insistence. She needed to eat if she wanted to live. “Grim is the most beautiful,” he decided, feeling that favoritism was appropriate at the moment given the babes’ inability to hear or see it. “He looks like you, Doe. Without the red.” He nibbled teasingly at the dusty red guard hairs that cloaked her shoulders. Her question was taken seriously, as were most things she presented to Szymon; he considered the infinitesimal creatures with a furrow of his brow, earnestly thinking it over. “Yes,” he said very solemnly. “They are yours and mine.” He lay down beside her, tablespoon to her teaspoon — though perhaps he ought to have lain opposite to her and formed a circle around their children — and preened her nape and shoulder.

“Do you need anything?” he asked after a beat. “I can bring you food or water — or go fetch Deirdre. What does your mother do when puppies happen?” Hind had become a frequent presence in Szymon’s own life, her traditions passed down through Doe, and his low, guttural timbre turned teasing when he tacked on: “I’m not bringing you any eggs, though.”

Her heart seemed to swell as she watched Szymon marvel over their children. Theirs. She'd never loved him as much as she did right then, his words and actions and very presence seeming to right all the wrongs, undo all the knots in her chest. Doe let out a breath of relief that turned quickly to a chuckle as his familiar voice began doling out his usual dry humor and sappy endearments. When he singled out Isengrim, she looked at the pup with some surprise. While the boy had a particularly fond place in Doe's heart due to his being her only son, she though their pale girls had more favorable appearances. Neither did she recognize the boy's coat as being near to her own; but wolves did not have mirrors, and wobbly, water-reflections only showed so much.

Nevertheless, Doe took her mate's word for this, trusting that he knew what she looked like a little better than she would. She kept her opinion on their beauty to herself, knowing that Szymon's poor self-esteem and his history with white shewolves would not cause him to look favorably on the pale puppies. In time, though, she knew that he would grow to love them as she did.

"I don't need anything - I'm too tired to eat," said Doe, nuzzling him softly when he asked after her needs. He reminded her that she'd called for @Deirdre and she had come, and Doe let out another low, inviting howl for the Forest Queen - in Doe's eyes, the young shewolf was always welcome. It seemed strange to her that she would bother to stop and ask for entrance, but Doe could appreciate the respectful gesture. "Hind would have blessed them by now - but I will not. They will recieve their first blessing from the Sea at the appointed time," Doe explained, craning her head to give Szymon's ear a loving snap. That was what he got for teasing her. "Although, if Deirdre wishes to give them her own blessings, I will not deny her."

once called, deirdre flew toward the densite--and when she arrived, deirdre was a supple, pliant thing, the strong limb of a flower slumping and bent to the will of the wind that was doe and szymon's judgment! once granted access, fully, deirdre looked at each babe. they are beautiful, she whispered reverently, awestruck. deirdre herself had not thought of blessing them; these were truly cubs of the sea, and she would not whisper words of the forest until the sea, firstly, did so. deirdre wished to touch them, but would do nothing without the mother or fathers explicit consent lest she face their ire!

short post! if the pp isn't kool lemme know, I SORRY I HELD THIS UP WTF

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It pleased Szymon immensely to hear the mother of his children speak so reverently of the Sea. She had embraced the Cairn way more fully than he could ever have expected of her. Touched, he nosed lovingly at the base of her folded-over ear, whuffing softly to tickle at the thick, soft fur that lined it. His golden eyes drifted from Doe’s profile to the four small sea cucumbers, and with an infinitely careful nose he investigated each of them again. “You are — ” he breathed, at a loss for words, “you must be — ” Chuckling, he shook his head, nibbling tenderly at her cheek. “A goddess could not be greater than you, Doe,” was what he finally landed on, his sonorous bass timbre a little shaky and rough around the edges. The faint note of stunned disbelief in his tone finished his statement for him: “How in the world did I get so lucky?”

Szymon welcomed Deirdre’s approach with a hearty thump of his ginger-laced tail, his auriferous eyes warm and filled with pride; a low rumble of greeting trailed from his lips and was punctuated by a guttural chuff. Beyond that, he remained quiet and still, fading into the background as was his wont. Still, the very fact that he did not move from his vulnerable position conveyed his deep trust in Deirdre — the ink-ribbed angler was a generally distrustful creature and would have likely roused himself at the appearance of a less trustworthy wolf.

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Short posts, sorry!

"Thank you!" Doe beamed, looking between Deirdre and Szymon before her eyes fell back on the four little lumps she'd birthed. They rose breifly, lovingly, to meet Szymon's stumbling compliment, but she could hardly keep them away from her children. She loved them all so much already. "Actually, Deirdre," she said, remembering something she'd had thoughts of during her pregnancy. She'd never consulted Szymon about it, but she couldn't imagine him having any protests. "You've become very important to us - and I hoped you might consider... being a godmother to these ones - and to Qilaq, of course," she explained, a little bashful as she glanced toward her husband. If he showed any signs of displeasure, she would be ready to call it off.