Ouroboros Spine song of the stars

for whenever you have time ♥️ would love a lote but tagging @Wilwarin for ease

the star-child fled in search their mother, tears in their moon-silver eyes. they limped along with one forepaw lifted, a large splinter embedded deeply into the pad. mom! they cried when her scent was near. something's in my paw and i- i can't get it out! by now they were old enough to take care of the problem by themself, surely — but the sight of the blood sent them into a hyperventilating panic every time. after two failed attempts, they'd given up, and now they were here, tears seeping slowly through the brilliant golden fur at their cheeks.

<3

Lótë paused in the process of laying the damp skins upon the small boulders near her family's den, having washed them to purge the scent of her festered wound from the pelts lest they draw the spirits that fed on illness and death. Her buckskin ears flew forward alertly, eyes widening in alarm to hear her child calling out in a stricken tone. 

She breathed a small sigh of relief to see Inkalorë was, mostly, unharmed as they limped to her side. Concern still lingered in the fretful set of her lips, as she examined the paw that was thrust towards her. "Alright, it's alright," she soothed quietly as she sniffed the star pup's fleshy pawpads over. 

"It's a splinter, love," she explained, meeting Ink's argent gaze reassuringly. Nudging the golden fledgling to lay down, she murmured, "It will hurt to get it out but only a little bit." 

She laid down next to Inkalorë, for better access and ease, and took her thirdborn's paw between her own. Bending, she nibbled at the wound lightly - until the white strip of frayed skin over the puncture had come free. She used her teeth and tongue to suck the splinter out of his palm before spitting it aside. 

Rasping her tongue over the small wound left behind, she hoped to soothe the hurt she might've instilled. "There, all better," she smiled warmly as she pressed a last kiss to her child's paw and pulled back to examine the golden youngling.

"Sometimes the skin over a splinter must be chewed off. And sometimes the splinter is too small to grasp with your teeth. You will have to suck it out of the wound, or chew it out like you might chew a flea," she instructed, before dipping to nibble at their ears playfully in demonstration, hoping to cheer them up.

as stricken as the star-child was, lótë's gentle reassurances soothed them almost immediately. their jilted rapidfire breathing slowed to a steadier rhythm, and they even dared to close silver eyes as they laid down at their mother's beckoning. a splinter, they repeated, trying to mimick mom's gentle confidence. there was a small but sharp stab, and ink winced — but before they knew it, she was done, and the pain was gone.

they opened their eyes again, relief written into their soft features. thank you mom, they whispered, a weak hint of a smile tugging at their mouth as they spoke. when they started again, they tried to sound more normal, embarrassment coiling in their stomach now that the pain and panic had passed. um. can i help? with the pelts? they glanced past her to the abandoned project, oblivious to her purpose with them but eager to change the subject away from their childish crisis.

"Anytime," she promised, rasping her tongue against their sunlit crown tenderly. It sent a thrum of pain tugging along her heartstrings to see her first litter growing up so very quickly but Lótë buried it, smiling instead as she straightened. The silver lining was that it was also beautiful to see. 

"Of course," she dipped her head in acquiescence, acknowledging her child's need for independence and desire to be treated as a growing teen. Even if her children might still need to be mothered on occasion. 

"I have washed my sickness from our bedding and the furs will need to be laid out to dry in the sun as such." The botanist gestured to where she had laid out the damp furs, leading Ink to the pile of sodden ones that remained -- like laundry to be hung out to dry.