Sun Mote Copse Not another broken arm in the street

One last thread before the babies arrive!

Niamh had had so many plans for the Spring that by now, were more or less impossible to complete. She was disappointed and frustrated with the fact that she couldn't accomplish the gosls she'd set for herself, or the promises she'd made to others. She was supposed to go to the island just off the coast to visit Coelacanth- but she could hardly bring herself to waddle along the borders anymore, and had resigned to wandering around the pack's claimed territory instead. After all, someone as fat and slow as her would be a liability if an aggressive stranger showed up. 

Or if just anyone showed up on a day when she was feeling particularly salty. Which was every day. At least she'd had the common sense to give up her border patrolls before she either cried at, screamed at, bit, scratched or steam-rollered a stranger because of her roller-coaster emotions. They hadn't settled at all throughout her entire pregnancy, and she was sick of it. 

She hadn't had the opportunity to go and see Caiaphas at Rusalka, nor had she travelled to that very same pack to seek out her brother and try to get him to remember her. Apparently she'd be an aunt this year too- and she was still assuming that her brother had knocked Caiaphas up, so her plans to visit Rusalka had doubled- but she'd failed at acheiving them. She was too tired, sore, fat and slow to travel that far. And she  couldn't exactly leave her pity party right now- it'd been going on for at least three weeks now, and she couldn't just quit a fiesta in the very middle of it. 

She groaned as she lay down on a soft spot of grass near her den where the sun broke through the trees. It was the perfect temperature for lounging in the sun- not so hot that she'd have to switch sides, but not so cold that she'd have to move every now and again to keep warm. At least there was that benefit of birthing this time of year- she hated to think what it might be like to be pregnant over the course of the summer. 

The pups kicked and squirmed and she moaned again, laying her head on the ground. She felt her stomach muscles twinge- something that had begun to happen every now and again, convincing her that she wouldn't have much longer before she popped. She begged silently every morning now for the day to arrive- but stubbornly, the pups stayed where they were. She was overdue by a few days now, and was absolutely done with being pregnant. But she'd been assured- with regular checkups to Eljay- that being overdue wasn't a bad thing. She'd give birth when both she and the pups were ready.

She sighed as the pups moved again. All she could imagine was overdue pups being larger than normal ones- and how much it was going to hurt like a sonofab***h when they were born.

Few days ago Wraen had confided in Wildfire about her wish to have a mate and children. And in her mind both parts of the equation that equaled a family were still wrapped in a rosy mist of rainbows, sparkle and naivety. Should she have asked Niamh about bearing young now, she would have got one, which was hardly anything that Wraen could have imagined. Far from it really. It would burst her bubble of fantasy and she would be left, wondering, whether all this effort was really worth it.

But she did not know this yet and did not suspect any looming danger, when she happened to pass Colt's mate on her way to borders for one business or another. It was something that could wait and eager to have a company in Maia's absence, she went over to the sleeping beauty and greeted her with a quiet bark. If she were to continue to sleep, Wraen would not disturb her a second time.

One of the pups decided that her liver- or whatever organ it was that would definitely be bruised soon-  made for a good punching bag, and had begun to thump one foot against it the way a rabbit might if they sensed danger, so she huffed a deep sigh and lifted one of her own hind feet to paw gently at her belly...But couldn't reach. It probably also wasn't the best idea to start kicking the children before they were even born, so she coughed instead, which jostled her belly just enough to startled whichever child it was that had been thumping its feet into stillness. She licked her lips. She could only hope they'd listen to her that well when they were born. 

She opened her eyes and looked up to see the dark and kindly form of Wraen nearby and lurched slightly as she rolled herself over onto her belly, groaning as she did so. "Ugggghhhhhhh....D'you think if you surprised me or something real good that they'd just pop out?" She asked. "Or like...Tickle me or something, so I can squeeze 'em out. Light a fire an' smoke 'em out, post an eviction notice, light the beacons of Gondor or something..." She mused. "Anything to get these guys moving." She said, looking up to Wraen for suggestions- even though she knew her friend might not have any, and that all of her own suggestions were bogus.

Niamh was obviously not in a very good state and at first Wraen did not grasp the other girl's attempt to joke about the situation. It took a while for her to realize that she had not disturbed anything and that the mom-soon-to-be was in dire need of distraction. She sat down and regarded her packmate with a compassionate gaze. Childbearing was no fun, huh? But she did not have to ask that.

"I have heard that shock can help moving things along," Wraen offered with a humorous glint in her eyes. "I can't do it myself, but I can ask around, who might be up for the job," she offered. "Or - you could plunge in ice cold water. There is a waterfall not far from here, where you could take a dive in," she added. "Your choice."

Niamh's eyes widened as Wren spoke, but as soon as she mentioned cold water, Niamh grimaced and shuddered. "Nah. I hate being cold." She said. "I hate being cold. I hate being pregnant. But I think I'd reeeeeally hate being pregnant and cold." She said. She stretched out, groaning slightly as she turned her head to look over her shoulder and back at her bulging belly. "I don't think there's anything that's gonna do anything to mke this go faster." She sighed heavily. She stretched again, wriggling her toes as she did so. "Tell me some good news?" She asked, imploring her friend and pack mate for something more optimistic, so she could be distracted from her own woe.

Wraen listened to Niamh's complaining with the same patience and compassion as she did, when Maia entrusted her with her own heartbreaks and problems. If she had only her packmate's experience to learn from, she would decide that being pregnant there and then was not a thing for her. However, she knew from seeing her own mom and Finley, for example, that nature had it's way in efficiently erasing the bad memories and associate kids with something essentially good.

She had the good sense of not saying any of this to Niamh, who - in her current mindset - would rebuff any attempts to cheer her up. "Good news - let me think..." and think she had, because there was nothing that came to her mind right away. Just everday stuff that would bore Niamh to no end. "Nah, nothing. Sorry. Not even bad ones. Pretty boring," she gave up. "Though, if you jumped in the waterfall, that would make the head-lines. Are you very sure you do not wish to do it?"

Niamh rolled her eyes dramatically and groaned when Wraen confessed that she couldn't even distract Niamh with news of any sort. She snorted, and then laughed when she suggested yet again that Niamh should jump into the waterfall, so that she would have something to tell the others, and she wriggled her shoulders, which in turn caused the mass of her belly to jiggle. "I think if I did that I'd cause a tsunami." She said. "Then we'd have to change our pack's name to like....Swampducks or something like that, after I flooded the place," She suggested. 

She sighed calmly. "But I guess no news is good news," She said. "I h'ain't been getting around for many patrols, but I suppose it's a good thing nothing's come up. It's definitely pretty peaceful here- much moreso than what I'm used to," she admitted.

"Or simply Waterbirds would do," Wraen quipped. "And in that case we could redo the whole ranking system. Say - there would a... The Chief Duck, The Screecher - a synonym to gull. The Head Goose... possibilities are endless. We could find a name for everyone," she finished her little creative spell. 

"No news is also good news," she agreed with Niamh. The less trouble they had, the better. "By the way... dibs on The Kingfisher! That one is mine!"

Niamh laughed at Wraen's suggestion- of course she would come up with a much better name for the pack than Niamh did. Niamh was the one, after all, who really liked the idea of naming one of her kids "Nag." So the job of naming packs, children, ranks and all- was much better left to someone who had a much more graceful way of dealing with language. 

"Hah! Screecher," She said, interrupting slightly, as the name tickled her so. "Good name for a kid," She added afterwards, flicking her tail around her hind paws so that the tip pointed to her own belly. She perked her ears when Wraen claimed the rank of Kingfisher, which definitely had a nice ring to it. "Oooh, that's a good one," She said, nodding. "I'd be...." And she would actually try this time- rather than going for the most tacky name that she could possibly think up. And there were a few that came to mind- loon, coot and sapsucker were the first three bad choices that came to mind, so she avoided those. "Stork?" She volunteered tentatively. "I got the legs for it, at least," She chuckled.

"The bird is nice and majestic, but the name rhymes with "dork"," Wraen pointed out, feeling sorry for the bird itself. How did such a beautiful creature end up with such an unfortunate name was beyond her. "And I think that there will always be some idiot that would call you "Head Dork" behind your back, so let's think about a different option," she suggested. 

"What about..." she thought about all the yellow birds she knew and was disappointed to find out that this was not that much. "Yellow warbler? Those are yellow and those sing nicely. Or, perhaps, you want to have a bird assigned to you based on, how you feel inside and not because of your looks?"

Niamh hadn't even entertained the idea that 'stork' might be a bad choice given how it rhymed with 'dork' but the idea tickled her into a fit of laughter that ended with a snort. "Awhh, dude, yeh, you're right," She agreed. Of course, she'd happily pummel whoever'd called her a 'dork' into the ground, but she couldn't exactly do that right now...Or when she had kids. She had to set some kind of a good example, which meant not annihilating everyone who ticked her off. 

Wraen made a few other suggestions, but Niamh grimaced lightly at the first. "I can't sing. I'd hate to be named after a songbird an' then not be able to sing," She said. When Wraen volunteered naming her after a bird based on her personality, Niamh rolled her eyes. "I dunno if that's so great an idea either," She admitted. "With my luck, I'd be a vulture or somethin'." She said.

"Well, no one would dare to make fun about someone, who would hold the rank "Vulture"," Wraen nodded, but she did not sound entirely convinced, because Niamh did not look anything like the scavenger bird of prey. It was not the most handsome thing either and her packmate was quite beautiful. 

"Though - I have a funny story to tell," she said. "There was a little family of wolves my mom knew, when she was younger. And similarly to the naming traditions of Blackthorns, those guys too had the real name and the nickname. And the nickname was a big thing. Here you have a litter of puppies and the smallest and most fragile one insisted on having a very cool nickname. And with a good humour the parent figures agreed and said - alright, you will be Buffalo," she smiled. 

"The kid, who had the makings of a great fairy-tale princess and a beauty queen was outraged, but the nickname stuck. Even years later, when she was petite and beautiful and had charmed half the country's population of males, she was still known by all as Buffalo and nothing else," she finished. "So - the moral of the story... be careful, what you wish for?"

Niamh chuckled. She sort of liked the idea of being called a Vulture- but she knew she'd get teased and called things like 'Buzzard,' which wasn't exactly complimentary. Wraen, the conversationalist as always, had an interesting point to share about nicknames and names, though, which made Niamh laugh. Being a bit vain herself, she cuold definitely sympathize with the little female in question, as she herself wouldn't have necessarily wanted to be named after a large, smelly, shabby creature. "Guess you're right," She agreed. 

She shifted, trying to get herself more comfortable, and the sun had begun to make her a bit sleepy. "Well. I think the kids and I are due for a nap, so I'm gonna head inside. If you think of a nickname for me, let me know though, hey? An' thanks for stopping by," She didn't mean to shoo Wraen off- but she did need her rest, as much as she truly did enjoy Wraen's company.