Sun Mote Copse They say that wealth is revealed in the teeth

There was a sort of acidic taste at the back of Niamh's mouth, possibly from her stomach which had clenched at the thought of having its neighbour organs torn to bits by raptor teeth as the kids fought their way out of her. She forced the feeling aside, and Finley's amusement and casual tone did help ease her anxiety, but only by a little. Niamh was too respectful of Finley, and perhaps still a bit too naive, to catch onto the fact that Finley was possibly exaggerating, and just picking on her for fun. 

Apparently, as Finley went back into detail about kids that Niamh wasn't sure she'd ever met (wait, how many kids did Finley have now? What twins was she talking about, and who was Lucy?), not all years were easy for giving birth. The thought of a locust outbreak horrified Niamh. She didn't like bugs much, and especially didn't like the idea that insects could swarm and eat all the greenery in the area- which would then have an impact on prey. And, of course, Finley brought death during childbirth back up, nd Niamh gulped. She felt queasy. Not phased one bit by the story of her own near demise, Finley began stripping bark off a birch tree. 

She could feel pressure in her chest, and dipped her head down, taking in large gulps of air as quietly as she possibly could. She flattened her ears against her head, and clenched her jaw, before she shook her head. "I don' wanna die, Finley," She said, nausea causing her eyesight to blur slightly. She was having a minor anxiety attack, and continued to focus on her breathing, trying to ignore the possibility that this anxiety attack was actually the end of her.