Moonspear our love belongs to the earth, our hearts to the stars

Feeling her own vulnerabilities through an exhaustion so heavy, sight and scent of him had become synonymous with her security.. especially here in these moments when she was at much less than her entire self. In the way that it was, it was a fatigue so different from everything else she had run upon. She hated the toll it could take--and it did, and she hated how devastating a blow it could deal in exchange for these new lives, all fresh and full of promise.

But she was fine enough. Tired, pretty sore, but she would survive.. and she hadn't seen any of the six blots die yet, despite the deep-seated wariness of the two tiny ones. She was remembering Ran all too well, just before Galaxy's unlucky follow-up, and even Korei's inability to fit in and vibe among them were all considerations she would not ignore by now. Just not.. right now. This soon, in this very instant, she had nothing to do with it. "Thank you," she rumbled quietly, fondly to Charon with a slow nod before he could leave her sights entirely. For the food, for keeping watch, for letting her have it as she needed, and for seconds like these, simple between them, with their newest brood here.

Nonetheless, a good meal to help restore her strength and help further get her mind away from the birth would do good. Saying nothing more, she listened to his announcement of their news and settled patiently back down now that she was alone with them again.

Later, sensing he was long gone to the cache at least by then, her ears pricked up. Awareness widened so quickly the second she thought she heard paws. Vela's voice followed not long after, though her hackles were still stiffening along her back and she arced tiredly around the newest litter. "Vela.." she returned, voice low and gruff--fatigued, while she worked her nose harder to scent Jarilo too but he was suspiciously silent; she wasn't going to get up to go to them any, but her tranquility was a tentative one for the time being and one that was viciously protective of her youngest litter, even this drained.

Shifting subtly, she was not one to roll out the invitations but turned well enough to crane her head towards the den's entrance. Her almost-yearlings warranted that much from her--the last two of them, at the very least, and the ones she had finally grown more fond of as they grew into themselves. "The pups are fine.. need rest," she said over a few soft mewls of complaint from her motion. There was little else to share so soon. They lived. Mustering a stern look, she went on: "Both of you, help your father keep strict watch here." she grated, direly serious in the message because she wanted nothing disruptive to find its way to her while she revolved entirely around herself and these newborns. Anything questionable, and she would have them enforce no mercy now.