Noctisardor Bypass into their punching bag

week 1 almost 2 of her pregnancy. going to say she's showing some basic symptoms.

back within the familiarity of the bypass for a week now, the time passes and praimfaya aims to distract herself with her duties as leader and patrols. these take up most of her time as the worry that her quest was unsuccessful nags at the back of her mind. how would she know ...besides the obvious symptoms? though she hasn't the slightest clue how to be a mother — or even if she was truly ready for it, oops — there is a constant wave of devastation that threatens to break over her at the consideration that she might not be pregnant. letting this anxiety worry at her leaves her with an ache too alike the ache that she had constantly been at war with directly and for some time after dacio's death.

she supposed she could always ask mahler about symptoms — he'd offered to be her midwife after all; but there was a slight wall of awkwardness at the thought. that was a question she should've asked her mother.

as she sets out towards the borders, seeking the routine of distraction from her internal worries, praimfaya feels a sudden wave of nausea. she immediately thinks it was the fault of the rabbit she'd taken from the cache to sate the rumble of her stomach before her patrol. it hadn't smelled rotten but then again she's been away for a while and knew when she ate it, it wasn't all that fresh.

her steps pause and she takes a deep breath, thinking that if it wasn't the rabbit than was her own anxiety over the mere idea of failure, of if something was wrong with her — she might not even be able to have cubs! — and presently and forcibly pushes such thoughts from her mind as she takes to the borders.

she forces herself to focus upon the scents, the familiar and the new and the places where scent is sparse; pausing long enough here and there to add her own scent to the borders to keep her mind occupied.

dusted with dark earth and filled with the quiet pleasure of early foraging, mahler left the den he had carved into an earthen pharmacopeia. he had usually kept his things wrapped in worn deerskins and stuffed into hollows about the territory, but this time mahler meant for himself a proper larder.
it was with this stained jubilance that he came across the track of praimfaya. he was relieved that the younger graf had returned, for many things could pose danger to wolf and woman outside their borders. but she was not commander for nothing, not without strength.
her scent had shifted only an iota, but mahler knew its truth. an unexpected twinge inside him that it was coming to pass, what he had put into motion. slowly he drew up toward the pale young warrior, silently joining praimfaya in reinforcing the borders.
he wondered if she knew; intelligent and battle-tried as she was, this was a different sort of evolution altogether.

blocking the wasp nest of thoughts circulating 'round her mind allows praimfaya to focus and thus to hear the footfalls of one of her kru approaching. though if she took the time she was sure she could learn to determine who was approaching by the sound of their gait alone; she cannot presently tell and does not know until she lifts her head from the sniffing at a sparse stretch of border and peers over scarred shoulder. frostbound gaze falls upon mahler and she offers him a soft but nevertheless genuine smile.

for a while she is content to keep going in the companionable silence that lingers between them but her mind keeps circling back to her worries and the thought that if he is to be her midwife — if the process worked — then she should be able to go to him without lingering embarrassment.

blodreina wasn't and hadn't been alive for a long time; and while she could ask laurel their companionship was still ...tentative.

mahler, praimfaya begins and then chickens out last second, deciding to veer in a similar but different path of words. has laurel spoken to you recently? praimfaya begins, thinking she might address that she offered laurel her permission should she wish to have cubs again.

"ve have just recently returned from a trip back tovard nova," he told praimfaya gently, though his charcoal ears cupped forward. the young graf was just that; youthful, but even with laurel she had the accord of being a woman. perhaps in rivenwood they had grown close enough to speak to one another upon such things.
sequoia had not yet returned, and mahler was growing concerned. yet he held his tongue upon this for now. with nothing more to say, the man set his mind as usual upon wylla, wondering what exactly had transpired after they had last met — the pain of it, and the lingering ache of having traveled back through those lands; it weighed upon him, ate at the edges of his heart.

mahler's response is vague — perhaps more vague than the commander would've liked; hindering upon the uncertainty of whether it was her place to tell mahler about laurel's potential-maybe wanting more kids. she offers her co-leader a nod, considering her words carefully and how she might handle it just in case that hadn't popped up in laurel and mahler's conversation. i have given her my permission to have cubs, to seek outside sire... if she should want them. praimfaya says, unsure how to state it as anything other than blunt. i told her to seek your permission as well, but i figured i should let you know now, just in case. 

a quiet pause is offered; a moment to let her words sink in and for mahler to speak upon the matter should he wish to add and/or tell her anything.

how — praimfaya begins and pauses when she starts to stumble over her words; changing her mind last second. what are the early symptoms of pregnancy? praimfaya inquires, still not quite sure that's what she wanted to ask but settles on it because it's close enough.

praimfaya explained why she had mentioned laurel, and mahler gave a nod as he mulled it over. there was already the potential of two litters in rivenwood. a third would strain the hunters further. but his pack now was not so small as it had been within the bracken forest — his, mahler silently amended, changing it to theirs — and the careful woman had been intending all the while to have young of her own. "laurel told me of her intentions vhen she first joined," he mused. "i think it is a good decision."
because praimfaya and sequoia had gone out at similar times, mahler expected that any children born would arrive more closely. if theirs came in late spring, and laurel's in the summertime, this would give a pause between births. but he was planning far too firmly for an event that chose its own time to show. 
too pragmatic. mahler returned his attention to the younger graf, hiding a knowing smile as she asked her question. "it is almost alvays sickness first," he told her gently. "the senses become sharper. food enjoyed before is now no longer vanted. often she can smell everything a hundredfold more. also she may vish to eat different things, crave them. the bladder fills far more easily," he added with an amused curve to his mouth, "and all she vants to do is sleep."
mahler wondered which of these applied to praimfaya.

hearing that this is not news to him is a bit relieving, given that she'd given permission without seeking his counsel first. when we spoke, she wasn't sure, with the disappearance of the man she arrived with. praimfaya says, thinking that laurel taking her time to consider would possibly be a good thing. 

as the conversation shifts then to her hesitant question, praimfaya frowns as he tells her that it usually starts as sickness. given her upset stomach she wonders if perhaps it is enough. she shifts her weight and considers the rest of the indications he offers her. perhaps, it could've just been spoiled meat. hm. praimfaya makes a noncommittal noise in her throat, thinking that it might likely be too soon for her to tell for sure. so it's more of a time will tell matter? she inquires.

"ja," mahler nodded. "i am told by mothers that each time, you become aware more quickly." it was not something that could be experienced by himself, and so mahler took the things that had been repeated, and made them part of his personal treatments.
"mountain-mint, chewed slowly through the day, offers some respite from the beginning ailment," he mused, rambling so that praimfaya might believe him only meandering and not offering muted advice.
"if ve have three mothers in rivenvood, ve also have two healers," he said of speedy, living quietly now among them with her daughter malila.

praimfaya takes mahler's words as comfort; letting them soothe the worst of her anxieties. time would tell. and if it didn't work? what then? presumably, she assures herself, she could try again. he mentions mountain mint that might soothe upset stomach and she tucks that knowledge away — figuring even if she wasn't pregnant it could be useful to know. is mountain mint easily found? she inquires and then adds, sheepishly.

she was no healer no botanist but if she knew roughly what she was looking for she was pretty confident that she wouldn't accidentally grab something poisonous instead.

that is good. praimfaya offers on the topic of speedy also being a healer. still, if the stars aligned for her and the heady rituals conducted with the strangers ( well, not total strangers because she knew their names ) did their job than she still very much wished for mahler to be her midwife. not that she didn't trust speedy but despite her embarrassment to ask personal questions ( at least at the moment ) she knew mahler better; longer and for the young commander that made all the difference.

"oh yes," mahler said softly. "it is a gentle green plant, and butterflies enjoy it as vell. look for them." with spring swelling around them, the doktor knew it would not be long before new plants revealed themselves to his knowing eyes. the sort of herbaceous growings that would be of use to those giving birth in rivenwood.
"it seems that kigipigak has gone," mahler continued, turning their talk from pregnancy to a more leaderly subject. "i had asked him to go to moonspear, but he has not returned." a low shrug; wolves departed their pack often, and he did not think ill of the pale warrior.

gentle green plant. butterflies like it. praimfaya tucks away his description of the plant, thinking so long as she paired it with it's tell-tale scent that she would be okay. that was the downfall she thinks of being blodreina's daughter: her mother had no interest in healing and was 'it will scar or it will kill me' sort. praimfaya cannot say that she doesn't understand the mentality: she shares it, in her own way. scars were badges of honor and pain was a reminder that she was alive. it was how she grew stronger.

but there is ingram in her as well — or what she knew of her father — enough compassion to sand off the rough edges of blodreina.

their conversation switched then to kigipigak. a sweep of her frostbound gaze is given but her lips pull terse. she cannot say that is surprised given their last conversation but nevertheless she remains disappointed. well, she draws in a soft breath. i suppose it would unsightly of us to hold wolves here against their wills. still, he would've been a huge help — rivenwood would need hunters to keep the pack fed while she and sequoia were nursing their babes ...providing, praimfaya reminds herself sharply, that their separate journeys held similar results.

"it vould not," mahler rejoined, more dryly than he had meant. but his tone was not intended to praimfaya; presently he gave her a sardonic look. "in my old age, i had the idea that he vould take the freedom i gave to him and to you, and perhaps he too might inherit rivenvood."
inherit — praimfaya had been appointed to lead alongside him, but this was the first time even for mahler that he had spoken aloud his goal.
the young woman had earned this, and soon, if her words bore the subtext he had assumed, she would be one of the first mothers in their guarded beautiful land. "ve have allies in duskfire," mahler said next, though he suspected they too would not be without their coming young. "it vill be vise of us to hunt together soon."

he had expressed a displeasure at being abandoned by his original kru, praimfaya admits. it had been one of their few conversations. he would've been a good fit, i think. for me, she mentally adds but wonders if it can be picked out in her tone; in the sigh of disappointment that leaves her. i suppose there is a reason why most of the commanders before me stuck to the 'to be commander is to be alone' belief. she does not dwell upon it though.

kigipigak was not the first who she had started to hope might be a potential mate ...and likely, he would not be the last.

perhaps the trick is not look for it. that method seemed to work for my mother. she says with a small laugh, afraid that mahler might worry about her; grateful for the change in subject. duskfire, praimfaya repeats, the name popping up in her brain as 'new'. you've been busy. she remarks with a teasing hum. it will be good to have allies. she says, thinking about the saints and how they were still on her shit list.

even if ...she hadn't seen hide nor hair of them in months. better for it, she reminds herself, for if she was successful in her endeavor to have cubs she had no time for war.

from praimfaya, mahler learned something he had not known about kigipigak: the sense of abandonment. it gave a new roundness to who the white hunter had been, and had the effect of removing some annoyed measure within him. but mahler was nothing if not observant, and heard the way that praimfaya's tone had changed when speaking of him. 
"not forever," he assured. "you are graf now, and perhaps vill be mother. these are things which may draw others, and you vill be upon proper footing to give or to deny." if she chose no other, or found no other man that would fit her standard, then she would still be leader and mother.
mahler had simply chosen to assume that both she and sequoia would fall pregnant this year; they were young women in their first season, and he saw no other way they could somehow evade the normal outcome of spring, especially if they had searched for it.
"have you met the healer speedy?" he inquired. "she brings vith her here a daughter, malila, and a strong sense of medicine."

praimfaya makes a small noise in the back of her throat; contemplative and attentive to his words. she considers them as they linger in her mind... and cannot help but wonder if those were all the wrong reasons to draw a mate. if she approached it like a business transaction ... a treaty of peace was that a good enough basis to make any sort of arrangement on? for praimfaya, it is as good as she can offer given her natural inclination to push everyone away from her.

she does not give voice to the inner workings of her mind; at least, not now.

i haven't, praimfaya replies. at least not in any sort of official manner. she offers a bit sheepishly. it was hard to be a leader over wolves of whom she knew only by name and sight alone; and for a moment she feels she's been selfish putting her desire for children over the wolves of rivenwood. she pushes it away. there was naught she could do about it now but seek to rectify her mistakes.

that's good. praimfaya murmurs, though she cannot stop the small furrow of concern at the knowledge that they lost a warrior all the same with kigipigak's departure... especially if there are young on the way — her's or otherwise.

he smiled; it was the nature of things. "i vould not expect you to know them vell. you have only just returned," and here he gave the young commander an expression that suggested her sheepishness was not warranted. she was young, but the pack was settled. she would have time to know them by heart, as he did.
"ve have a strong alliance vith duskfire. i am not above trading my skills for vhatever ve need. there is merit in trade." past the days of no alliances he had intended; rivenwood was stronger for them.
a pause. "vould you like me to show you vhere the mint is? i mean to gather some for myself, to dry."

despite mahler's reassurance, praimfaya still feels a gnawing of guilt all the same. the fact that she'd left the borders as long as she had, had felt like something she shouldn't have done ...especially as it was fueled by her own selfishness — despite getting the 'ok' from mahler himself. next year, she would do things a lot differently, she tells herself. next year, she will be better prepared and know what steps to take so she could remain a dutiful commander — as was expected of her ( by the commanders of the past and her own expectations ).

on the topic of the mysterious duskfire glacier, praimfaya has nothing more to say. she is glad mahler is forging roads by offering olive branches; even if she has a natural inclination to be more weary of alliances unless they were apart of her coalition.

i'd like that. praimfaya replies with an easy smile, gesturing with her muzzle for mahler to lead the way.