Heron Lake Plateau [m] your hands can heal, your hands can bruise

Mature Content Warning

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The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: Some icky pregnancy horror stuff.

Forward-dated to April 1st

Everything was going according to her biological clock; Camilla wasn't happy to be so overweight nor so hungry, so thirsty, so needy, but for the weeks leading up to this moment, she couldn't help it. That is, until her insatiable hunger completely stopped. Her belly might've reached its containment limit or something, which she was glad for - at first. 

She woke up that morning with the same queasy sensation as when her pregnancy began. It made her roll her eyes, and her rotund body, as she sought out a place to be sick in private. But as she sequestered herself in preparation for the sweeping illness to set in, she found herself dry-heaving but not producing anything. Soon her abdomen was aching fiercely; think about how painful it would be if you let yourself gain a dozen pounds and then tried to do a bunch of core exercises --- it was awful.

But the spasms eventually ceased. She could handle being a little sore, honestly. Camilla had been through the ringer prior to her life upon the plateau - prior to Phox - and this was nothing. But when she turned to head back to the den she shared with her husband, she stumbled. The pain in her abdomen was stronger than she realized; it seemed to emanate from somewhere lower, and as she struggled to get back to her swollen feet, she noticed the scent of blood in the air. A quick look around led her attention to her hind legs, and streaks of bright red trailing through her silver fur.

Startled, she tried to bend and clean it away. When Camilla realized she couldn't quite reach it, she grew more panicked, and huffed - barking sharply for @Phox, who couldn't have been far.

Phox's life had turned into a hunting frenzy for Camilla, who seemed to be insatiable with hunger. She had ballooned up to an enormous size, and Phox could only stare in awe at what had become of her. It was baffling to think that soon, there would be living, breathing children escaping from that rotund body of hers. No longer was she frail and weak, although she did have her moments. He hoped that, on some level, this whole pregnancy thing was doing good things for her, both mentally and maybe even physically. He had never seen her eat so much before!

He had been coming back from yet another small-game hunting expedition, mouth full of a moderately-sized rabbit, when he heard her bark. The smell of the rabbit overpowered any smell of her own blood, but when he caught sight of her, he knew something was wrong. The father-to-be promptly dropped the rabbit and called out for @Raven, the resident medic. He thought to call for Towhee, but he knew doing so would be in vain. Hopefully she was nearby and would happen upon them. As far as he was concerned, these kids had three parents.

He came running - which would've brightened her entire day had she not been leaking fluids. She was still turning awkwardly in circles when he arrived, trying to reach her rear end and clean the blood away. This was like last time — she thought suddenly, and froze. Her sickness had gotten so bad that most of it was lost to the haze of drugs they'd given her, but this was familiar. Red on silver. The tumultuous rolling pressure in her gut. Oh, she was so afraid! She didn't know what would come next!

But Phox was here; he dropped something in her periphery and was at her side soon enough, calling for help. Camilla should've called for Raven first, she knew that. Raven, and Towhee, and maybe even Quixote, but the only person she wanted near her was Phox. She was pacing on the spot, bent double when sharp waves of pain jabbed at her sides, burned in her belly — Phox, she gasps as she looks at him, but squeezes her eyes shut as a fresh wave of pain begins — Phox, it hurts—!

He went from mildly concerned to full-on P A N I C M O D E when she began saying (well, screaming) that it hurt. There was more blood, and he paced around her frantically trying to figure out what else he could do. Until Raven got here, he wasn't sure there was anything he could do. He panted and whined and circled around her, completely at a loss. Phox had never felt so helpless in his entire life. Where was Raven? Where was Towhee? Where was LITERALLY ANYBODY WHO COULD HELP?

He didn't do anything except scurry around her like a panicked chicken; not a headless chicken thank god, but one of those epic looking all-black metal-as-fuck roosters; he circled her and circled her, and as much as Camilla wished his dance could magically stop her from feeling like she was combusting, she was mostly distracted from the display of paternal panic.

GET RAVEN! She hollered in his face — just as he was orbiting around her for another pass — OR TOWHEE, OR -- QUIXOTE, her voice was getting more shrill and desperate, and she even tried to lunge away from him, but staggered and hit the dirt roughly, gasping. Her abdomen spasmed, and she squeezed her eyes shut as a contraction forced its way through her body.

She kicked the dirt and grit her teeth, but within moments of the start of the contraction it ceased. When she lifted off the ground on her shaking limbs, there was a slick mound of something in the dirt, wrapped in a nebulous sack and coated in blood, like some kind of fleshy egg — which she nearly stepped on — and when Camilla spun to fix Phox with a desperate glare, she saw it and felt herself sway, as if about to faint. Oh, she was a mother alright - but whatever that thing was, it wasn't alive.

Phox is desperate, lol. @Quixote @Raven @Towhee (via X) @Mariposa @Ailill @Rye

Instead of calling for anybody in particular, Phox called the entire pack (the adults, anyway) to aid Camilla. Surely somebody was available to help her. He didn't know what else to do. In an attempt to calm himself (and maybe Camilla in the process), he stopped pacing around her and settled down anxiously at her side, licking her face and hoping things would somehow turn out alright. He couldn't stand the thought of something happening to her that would take her away. He had worked so hard to keep her safe, and it would destroy him if he was the one who hurt her (however indirectly).

But before long, she was up again, and something lifeless lay on the ground. It looked... well, he didn't know what it looked like, but he swallowed hard and took a ginger step toward it.

Poe was beyond exhausted by the time she returned to the Plateau. Her mind was spinning from what she had learned during her trip, but she had decided to shut it off as she snuggled down into a nice patch of grass to get herself some much deserved and eagerly awaited rest. The howls that echoed across the territory might've interested her on another day, but today, she just needed to sleep.

Except for the fact that they didn't stop. And kept growing in panic until one eventually included her in its summons. When that happened, Poe found a rush of adrenaline in the alarm that rose in her, and soon she was on her feet and running.

She recognized Phox, but not the woman he stood with who was obviously the one in peril (though you wouldn't have guessed by comparing only their faces). She rushed over, looking at Camilla and feeling her heart pound with nerves. "What's happening? Did she get injured?" Poe asked, though even as the words came out, she knew that was not what this was - a fact supported tenfold by the lifeless form she saw Phox stepping towards. Harlyn had taught her something of medicine, but the little butterfly knew with a terrible feeling of dread that she was way out of her league here.

She hunched over the strange shape that had slipped out of her and for a moment, couldn't function. Something inside of the sack moved, and as she watched it she let out a little gasp. There was no telling if she was reacting to the being inside or to the pain of further contractions; it didn't really matter — the sac perforated and a tiny paw - two, three of them, kicked free and a half-formed babe breathed a gasp. Its one, its only, its last.

Camilla felt another wave of pain and she staggered, accidentally stepping on the little creature that she'd borne; kicking it aside wasn't what she meant to do, but it rolled aside as she fought against her biology. No, no, no, it hurts — she couldn't form further words as the contractions deepened, and she grit her teeth, feeling another alien object slipping from her loins in to the grass.

Phox's breath hitched in his throat when it moved. He took another step forward, and his(?) her(?) paws poked out. He was so focused on it, and when he turned around to see Poe arriving, Camilla had stomped the life out of it. At least, that was what Phox saw when he turned back to her. Intentional or not, he felt as if the world had fallen out from beneath him. There wasn't time to react before another body came sliding into the world.

This time, he pulled it away from her, instinct taking over as he cleaned it, pulling away the birthing sac so that it might have a better shot at life.

Phox didn't answer, just stared at his firstborn with a look that broke Poe's heart. She gasped when Camilla kicked the little thing, but unlike Phox, she wasn't moved to any further reaction. She stepped towards Camilla as Phox went towards his progeny, shifting into emergency-mode like she'd seen her mother do countless times.

"Honey, you're having your puppies," she said, even though she was still 50/50 on whether this was a birth or a miscarriage (she'd never actually seen either phenomenon), "You need to calm down and stop moving. Stay still, and breathe. I know it hurts. Just focus on my voice and breathe."

She had no idea if this would work. No idea if Camilla would listen to her or if she'd just keep panicking and trampling her children. Poe wished like hell her mother or Raven was here to do this, but they weren't. It was just her, and she had to try.

The second child wouldn't be any better than the first; a mess of parts half-formed, lungs too small to even breathe, eyes not yet formed — but Camilla didn't see the face of her babe because her husband scooped it away. It wouldn't open its eyes, wouldn't take a breath.

Honey, a voice she doesn't know softly comes to her —you're having your puppies.

Camilla blinks, shivering, and focuses on the girl rather than the horror that her body is putting her throught. She was breathing too fast. The strain on her heart was straining the rest of her, and the babies were suffering for it. They were right, she needed to calm down. How does she calm down? She sees the blood in the ground - smells the thick scent of Phox and the blood of her body and the sweet newness of the children —

— but focuses on the stranger at her side instead. Breathes. Tries to breathe, strains, feels the contractions coming again and again in closer waves than before. Its more of a struggle this time. Compared to the first two that seemed to slide right out of her, this next one doesn't want to budge.

She looks to Mariposa and — finally, out comes a bundle of black fur. It looks more like Phox than like her. With his arrival there is a flood of relief and her body relaxes, sags against the grass, and she's able to breathe properly for the first time since this has all started. Camilla doesn't think to look at this new child because she expects it is like the others - malformed, soon to die, because it is born from her cursed womb. But soon enough there is a loud squalling — a @Figment of what life could be like.

Never before had the Wilds seen a pup born with so much drive and so much purpose. He was sooooo ready for this. He'd been ready before when his mother was miscarrying all over the damn place and he was definitely ready now that she had calmed the crap down. Ready and eager as hell to get out into the world and start being a mother fuckin' winner.

Problem was, Fig hadn't exactly planned on being born so... small. It was kind of cramping his style. His eyes and his ears were closed to the world and yet he could feel it in his wiggly, gelatenous bones that he had been cheated somehow. He was too tiny to conquer. Hell, he was too tiny to even compete.

What the SHIT, ma!??

So while he, his siblings, his parents, and anyone else would never know it, the real reason Fig unleashed his wails (which were also fkn tiny jfc) into the air was in anguish over the injustice of it all. His ambitions were too big for his teeny, frail little body, and he was going to make damn sure everyone heard about it, assuming they would all consent to listening very closely.

He'd probably quit once a nipple got shoved into his mouth - if that ever happened in all of this chaos. And then, he'd forget about all of his woes until probably sometime in his teenage years when it would all come crashing back down on him and he'd be forced to raise hell again, though likely a bit louder this time.

For now, he squealed weakly and kicked and begged for someone to help him right all of the world's wrongs. At least until he figured out how to do it for himself.

The one he had pulled away wasn't right. It was even more lifeless than the one before it, causing Phox to suddenly wonder if any of his children would live. He thought of Towhee, and how angry she would be if he and Camilla ruined their children. How distraught she would be. Phox, not thinking of himself, as usual. He was vaguely aware of Poe talking in the background, of Camilla writhing there too. But all he could do was stare at the two lifeless things that now lay at his feet.

A cry tore him from his thoughts, and he glanced back expecting (like Camilla) to see yet another body. Instead, he saw life. One tiny, precious life that he felt could be snuffed out in an instant. Phox left the two bodies on the ground and inched closer, worried that if he took a breath this one might disappear, too. But it didn't. It writhed and wriggled and he nudged it toward Camilla's bosom.

Maybe something good would come out of all this after all. He felt his heart swell six times as large as it had ever been, and he was instantly protective of Camilla and their new child all over again.

It was working. Holy crap it was working. Poe felt hope swelling in her breast as Camilla locked eyes with her and stopped her pacing. Apparently all she'd needed to know was what was happening to her. Poe would remember that little tip to be sure, though she did hope she never got in the middle of something like this again. Poe loved to help people, but this was a little nerve-wracking.

"That's it, good, good work," Poe murmured, trying to soothe the woman, "Just keep breathing, you're doing great. Just breathe." And it went on like that as the birthing continued. There was only the slightest hesitation when Camilla popped out a baby while Poe was staring right at her face, which was all kinds of intimate and other words the Ostrega couldn't come up with at that moment. But she picked her steady stream of calm encouragement back up quickly, even though part of her thought she ought to go tend to the newborn since it was uncertain if Camilla would do so herself.

If it was even alive.

Don't think like that, she chided as she coached, trying to spy out of the corner of her eye if Phox had moved to tend to the actually living child or if he was still too preoccupied with the others. Another wave of hope washed over her when she saw that he had come to the little one's aid. Maybe this wouldn't be a tragedy. He was so tiny, though. But maybe. Gods help us, she prayed.

She was doing alright with her mind focused, but then Phox moved in to inspect the black blob child and moved the babe close to her; she was instantly repulsed by it. No, not it — she was afraid of hurting him, the way she hurt the other two. Her body hated these children and she didn't know if she could be what they needed. She stood up sharply when the child was placed near her, and paced away from it a few quick steps.

Then, more pain. Camilla tried to calm down and keep her eyes on the ground, but she couldn't stop glancing over at the writhing body of her newborn son. A part of her wanted to go to it, knew it needed warmth and food and all those things, but she was so afraid — and then the last child came. This one didn't bring her pain. It followed after its brother — but it was so, so much smaller than him. A tiny, pale gold glimmer in the grass (@Fennec).

She breathed deeply as the pain receded, and lay in the grass with a blank, glassy look in her eyes.

Unlike her brother, Fenton came into the world with a quiet and contemplative huff.  It was as if she knew he'd already be making enough noise for the both of them.  In reality, she was too perplexed by the new state of things, and more inclined to wait for that state to change for the better than demand it just yet.  The world had provided for her so far, as well as it could, and hell if it would stop now.

Sitting damp in the grass wasn't... great.  But it wasn't horrible either.  When she finally did cry out, it was more to test out her new ability to than anything else.  Her lungs were tiny, and didn't have a whole lot to say, but damn she was a cute little alien.

prob her only post, feel free to skip on by!

Well it AIN'T gonna be Fig's only post, let me tell ya!

Just as soon as he got that nipple and felt the beginnings of peace and calm enter his world, it all disappeared on him. He shrieked - a feeble, faltering sound, kind of like a cricket that gets stepped on mid-crick - and wriggled unhappily, demanding to be told why he was being forced to suffer even more injustice. He should've been more focused on the fact that he could die at any moment, either by getting stepped on or by his malformed lungs collapsing. But, he was about five minutes old at that point. His own mortality hadn't occurred to him yet. Only injustice.

Speaking of which.

MAAA!!

For half a second, Phox thought Poe was talking to him, and he tried to remember to breathe. Then he realized she was talking to Camilla, not him. The tiny writhing (male) body squirmed in the grass, and again, Phox nudged it toward his mate. A second later, another one slipped into the world. It was lighter in color that the first one, and Phox set about cleaning her. She was so very small, and Phox worried that even the pressure of his tongue might cause her entire body to break into a million tiny pieces. Somehow, that didn't happen.

As gently as he could, he nosed her toward Camilla as well. They need to eat, he whispered. His gaze caught Poe's, a silent thank-you for doing whatever it was she had at least attempted to do. A thought crossed his mind, but he decided against it for some inexplicable reason. Instead, he returned his attention to Camilla and settled down beside her, wondering if there was more to come. He hoped that was the last of it.

Oh shit, it backfired. Poe's eyes widened in surprise as Camilla scrambled away from her newborn. A whole new level of worry threatened to claim her, but she quieted it. Not now. One crisis at a time.

"Shh, shh, it's okay, honey, it's okay," Poe said as she stepped gingerly after her. She gave an anxious glance back to Phox, who seemed just as bewildered by her actions as Poe was, before turning her attention back to Camilla. "You're doing fine, just focus again. Look at me, listen. Focus again. Breathe."

Her words seemed to help. At least, they managed to get Camilla through the birth of her fourth pup. Poe kept on murmuring encouragement for a few seconds until she realized with a startled jolt that it was over. The woman was resting. Or... She shook her head.

"You did good, just lie still and rest now. It'll be okay...," Poe trailed off as it occurred to her she didn't even know this woman's name. She bit her lip nervously, worried that Camilla might bolt on them again. But if that happened, there wasn't much she could do. She had no milk to give them. No one in the pack did. What would they do?

But there was a more immediate danger here too. Camilla had lost so much blood. She needed herbs, and she knew which ones. But she didn't want to go and leave Phox on his own in case his mate did try to bail on her kids again. Or worse. So, she stood frozen, watching, anxious. Just a few seconds longer.

She didn't move again once Mariposa began to talk to her, the soothing tones helped a bit, but so did the loss of fluids and her general lack of energy. Birthing four children was hard work (even if most of them weren't quite ready yet). Her breathing was still a bit quick, the rise and fall of her sides made to look more pronounced because of the girth she'd developed leading up to this moment — but she sat there as calmly as could be expected, dazed and feeling empty. All around her there were signs of the struggle: blood, bodies of children she'd never meet, and then the scattered pair of tiny babes mewling for her. Needing her. This time if/when they were placed by her belly, she wouldn't stop them from latching upon her and drinking their fill; no, she didn't really do much of anything.

Fig's world tumbled around one last time. Well, one last time for a little while anyway. By the end of the wild ride, the boy was just about ready to give up on this whole damn place. He was resigned to being a bitter, angry old man by the time he was two days old. He would spend his life giving his parents hell for the ten minutes of shit they'd put him through early on. It was the circle of life, and Fig was ready to be a real pill about it.

But then, something warm. Something... small. Smaller than him. But cozy, and familiar. Fig squirmed as near as he could to the other little puppy bean - his sister. The one thing in this world that life had been crueler to, that was tinier than even him.

Fig quieted his grumbles as he wriggled right up against Fenn, found a nip and began to suckle his fill. He went uninterrupted this time, and there was only one thing different to him about this round than the last. He guessed then that this was just going to be how it was going to be. Alright then.

SORRY I AM L8! D:

Raven had been on her way to Sun Mote Copse, intending to finally visit Wildfire and meet her sister's newest batch of pups, when the call came to her across the vast, rolling landscape. It was faint, quavering on the wind and distorted by distance, but its message was clear: Camilla was in trouble. Instantly, Raven's mind went straight to her pregnancy and the she-wolf's looming due date, but the urgency in the call struck a chord of fear in the Redhawk's heart. It was unmistakably a cry for help. Had something gone wrong? Horror wrapped icy fingers around her heart and squeezed as she instantly turned and ran back the way she'd come, the lazy trot at which she'd been traveling immediately ramping up to an all-out run. Miles melted beneath her fleet feet but for Raven, they couldn't pass by fast enough.

It took time for her to reach the scene -- too much time -- and by the time she arrived, it was over. ...Mostly. Panting raggedly and shaking with fatigue, she ignored the protests of her own body in favor of making sure Camilla was okay. A quick survey of the immediate vicinity told her that things hadn't gone well. She was immediately reminded of her own heartbreaking childbirth as her eyes fell upon two lifeless forms near Phox's feet, and she swallowed the thick lump that rose in her dry throat. Two others struggled and mewled nearby, and, as gently as she could, the medic nudged them closer to their mother's belly, her eyes on Camilla all the while in case the new mother should react adversely. Camilla herself seemed exhausted and dazed, which was normal considering what her body and psyche had just been through, but what was not normal was the amount of blood that painted the epsilon and the earth around her. She quickly consulted with Poe and Phox, and between the two of them she began to understand what had happened. "She needs...medicine..." panted Raven, gesturing toward Camilla's bloodied underside. She knew of some plants she had stashed in her cache that might be helpful. "Stay with her, okay?" That was mainly directed at Poe, though she knew that went without saying. Nobody was going to leave this poor creature by herself in such a state.

Turning on her heels, Raven dashed off in the direction of the little old badger den of her youth, which now housed her vast collection of herbs and remedies. Her legs and lungs screamed as she demanded yet more of them, but she paid them no heed. It would take only a matter of minutes to reach her destination, but if Camilla was still bleeding profusely, she might only have a few minutes...

The call wasn't for her but a nosy child enjoyed being nosy.  There was no rush (not her business, duh), so she showed up fashionably late to get a rather gruesome class in what happens if you get pregnant.  Okay, maybe there was still a little, but it definitely wasn't as super panic-stricken as things were a few minutes before.  Or was it?  Who the heck knows I just wanna get a post in.  Vasa can be a little clueless anyway.

After slithering her way across the plateau in the most way too cool for school fashion, she finally came across the source of the howls from earlier.  Whole gang of folks, apparently.  Vasa approached at a bad angle, she couldn't really see the action from where she stood, and she was incredibly distracted.  The girl was spending more of her attention watching her mother peel off into the distance than to notice sights or sounds (or apparently, smells) right off the bat.  She finally looked back, glance skipping between everyone else present.  What's goin' on?  Blink blink.  Wait.  Her brain seemed to click on.  Blood, other stuff.  Did someone get murdered and they were hiding the body or something?  And why was that one lady making occasional squeaking noises?

Most perceptive wolf in the world right here.  Give her a minute, she'll catch on.

They continued to breathe, and Camilla seemed to be through the worst of it, but something about the way Poe spoke worried him. He tried to move his focus back to Camilla, back to the... his children. Whoa. They were... his. He had made them. Well, Camilla had made them. He had provided the secret ingredient.

Raven arrived, he sputtered out some of what had happened, and then a second later, she was gone, leaving the five of them – well, technically seven if you count the deceased. :'(

He stared at the two squirming bodies next to Camilla, then looked at her. While he had always been protective of her, this was a whole new level. He could have sworn his heart was going to leap directly out of his chest.

When Vasa approached, a low growl arose in his throat. It wasn't terribly threatening, and he had no intention of letting it go beyond that, but it was a warning. He was sure Poe would explain, but Phox knew that he was unable to right now.

Poe visibly sagged with relief when Raven arrived at long last. She gave the medic a grateful look, but kept her comments business-like as she and Phox filled her in on what had happened. The medic spoke of medicine (whaddya know!) and took off, presumably to fetch some, leaving Poe in charge of watching over the new parents and their little squeakers.

Her anxiety remained high as Raven left, but she kept her outward appearance and demeanor calm, collected, and optimistic. Camilla's state and the frailty of her pups worried her, but she didn't want Phox to see that. He was probably freaking out enough as it was without adding her own worries to the mix. So, she had nearly moved to settle in beside them when Phox looked suddenly alert and territorial and she turned to find a smaller version of Raven creeping up on them with a question on her lips.

Poe didn't need to hear the warning growl to know to keep the girl away. She too felt that instinctive protectiveness over the newborns, but she wasn't quite frazzled enough to show it. The yearling likely meant no threat, but simply didn't know any better. "Hey," Poe said, standing and moving towards the girl, intending to subtly crowd her and move her back and away from the scene.

"Our packmates here just had their puppies, so we need to give 'em a little space," Poe said, once she had placed herself comfortably between the girl and the parents, "We have a new little boy and a new little girl in ours ranks. Isn't that cool?" The Ostrega looked back at them, though was careful not to let Vasa slip from the corner of her eye. Her gaze moved a little to settle onto the two who hadn't survived - an ugliness she didn't necessarily want to introduce this young girl to, but one that did have to be dealt with and might be a way to distract her (the sweet summer child hadn't met Vasa yet to know there was only a 50/50 chance this would work).

"Do you want to do the new parents a favor? We're going to need a hole dug in a really nice, pretty spot. Somewhere peaceful. Do you think you could do that for us?" Poe requested, smiling her friendly, sweet smile.