Ouroboros Spine l. well, i've lost it all

just realized I've completely butchered the roman numerals for the past like ten threads but run it (references: @Adrastus)

new to motherhood, the morning dove might be -- and starting young at that -- but none could fault her diligence. she had scarcely left her nestlings' sides since their birth, even in spite of the fact that their sire had returned home. it was hard for the bird-watcher to get any sort of meaningful rest, heart leaping into her throat any time one of her brood so much as sniffled in the night. wilwarin was a particular source of anxiety, as was her firstborn son of the stars. both were still and silent for the most part, seemingly content just to be held close to her or adrastus. 

though her iniquity brought guilt along with it, it would take the fallowskin baptiste sometime before she felt she could rely on her mate -- as accustomed as she had become to taking care of herself and their children in his absence. the tundra-walker was eager to step up and atone for the weeks they had been kept apart but the greenpaw was reluctant to put too much responsibility on his shoulders, lest he strain his injuries and slow the healing process.

even so, all mothers need a break eventually. 

lótë slipped from the ulaq only after reassuring her newly-returned mate with various pieces of advice regarding the puppies' care -- likely too many -- and smothering the lot of them in kisses, adrastus included. regardless of how the back of her mind remained in her family's den, the woodlander soon found an unacknowledged tension slackening from her shoulders as she trotted past her neglected garden and through the ulax. 

it was a physical relief when she reached the forest, breathing the crisp air of mountain pine and cedar in deep -- one she hadn't realized she missed. it was gratifying to have this tiny moment of freedom to herself, appreciated so much more now that she had four tiny responsibilities waiting for her at home -- not to mention occasionally helping adrastus with his wounds. 

the two-year's spirit place was a bit overgrown, some of her belongings scattered, and she had nothing to gift to the spirits on that day. all the same, she settled on her haunches in the middle of the clearing and tipped her head back -- eyes closing in delight as she bathed in brother sun's warmth. 

cameo

Mother-dove had bathed her coat that morning — a process Wil found extremely soothing even if some of her littermates would not agree. It had relaxed the cloud-down pup until she dozed off, resting on her back with her crown tipped back and limbs sprawled in contentment — tiny potbelly, a sign she would surely survive her tumultuous childhood, on display cutely. 

She woke for but a moment when Lótë caressed her chin in a light kiss, footsteps trailing from the nest as she left. Her baby blues, already darkening to an undefined grey, lingered blankly on the threshold for a moment where her mother’s shadow had passed — not fully awake — before she drifted off again with a heavy, trembling sigh.