Verdigris Ravine Clan

Sooo I was wrong.. the kids are not due on the 14th. Set for tomorrow! Birth order has been randomized <3 @Aylah @Gaara @Brac @Ebra

The birth of the children of Candle and @Zoug was a quiet affair. The morning prior, the priestess had signaled to her mate that it was time, and retired to the cave without a word to the others. For a time the waiting felt endless. She ate nothing, and scarcely emerged from seclusion.

In the cool early hours of the next morning, four little coyotes nestled at their mother's flank. Candle could do nothing but stare at them. After a time she called to her mate, inviting him to meet their children. Soon she would invite the others too, those she knew and trusted among The Tribe, but these first moments would be hers and Zoug's alone.

candle's labours began as the desert winter waned.

she had stopped taking her meals, and he had taken up a vigil at the cavemouth which admitted only female members of their tribe — should she wish them close.

candle and zoug used the everyday form of his clan's speech, which all hunters and foragers used between one another.

but as the day became night, it was formal, flowing motions in so ancient a tongue there were only names.

ooha! zheena! eesha! spirit of wind! spirit of rain! spirit of mists! come to us. attend us. our children look for your favor. a good woman looks for your help.

revered old ones. i do not understand this mystery. your ways are not for us to know. i ask only that you stand with this woman in your power, and lend her your strength.

on the hours marched. zoug's prayers became a circle.

at last, breath separated from breath, and candle called. he stood and peered into the darkness of the cave with a seeking eye, adjusting to the protective shadows from which he had barred himself since the day before.

He knew nothing of darkness, he knew nothing of light. He only knew the heart beat that surrounded him - rum tum rum tum - enclosing him in a stringed quartet, without beginning, without end. Weaving, simply working him into rhythm ever seeking, to sights without seeing, paws ever kneading, stretching, reaching -

And then he knew stillness, coldness, sadness, the first knowing ache of the Cavetreader's heart. The rhythm still present, yet far off, and his legs now heavy, no longer suspended in that world between worlds, where hearts beat in the collective, and did not want for anything more.

A world he would never return to, and he wailed for his return! And never once did he wonder of the one he would find.

The whole ordeal happened very quickly. She was in the warm area pressed near her siblings and then soon it became a very tight space and before she knew it she was quickly getting evicted into the cold. Which she would think was rather rude if she had any of those thoughts. 

All she felt was the cold until a wet thing began to dry her and bring life to her body. Air filled her tiny lungs as she let out her own whines; her stomach now feeling hunger for the first time. A new feeling that she wasn’t used to and she wiggled around nosing the air hoping to find sustenance and warmth.

New life birthed unto the world. The morning air was crisp. The cavern rock cool, yet he found warmth and comfort quick at the side of his mother and siblings, all unknown things to him. 

Blind. Deaf. Dumb. Yet he could feel. As he rolled on his back while being licked dry, the Daybreaker stretched out his limbs skyward to the new morning, seeking the rising sun.

The hum of the world beat in time with the gentle, rhythmic thump of the heart the Rainteller had felt the moment the world wished her into existence. It was further away now, that heart, but she did not find herself wishing for it to come closer; she felt the cave floor beneath her, the earth itself humming a melody so beautiful that she did not find herself wanting. 

She could taste the season-to-be in the air as her body drank in the life-giving element, greedy gulps ending in little, happy chirps and whines, letting the world hear her own song. 

Someday, she would hear the songs of the world, of her parents, of her littermates. There would be no more deafness, no more blindness. For now, her petite, round form settled into the nest of warm bodies, feeling their melodies, memorizing them, before falling into a blissful stupor as she suckled on the life her Mother had to offer.

Candle welcomed Zoug with a tired smile, a gentle beckoning for him to look; look at these children we made, look at how perfect they are. For a little while she only let him inspect their pups as closely as he dared. Her own gaze hardly strayed from them.

Dark-furred, all of them; nearly impossible to distinguish from one another for now. Even so, she knew each of them. Two daughters and two sons. In the quiet of her mind, she gave them names.

Names were not given in the House of the Gods. A name was a privilege earned through devotion; through sacrifice.

These names were a gift.

The House stood abandoned now, its priestesses scattered to the winds. And so many of her sisters had given their lives for these freedoms; was that not sacrifice enough? Their lives, worth a thousand names, a thousand generations to follow those who had survived.

The gift of song to her firstborn, The Dunesinger, Weaver of the Collective Dream.

The gift of light to her second, The Daybreaker, Seeker of the Rising Sun.

The gift of grace to her third, The Cavetreader, Teller of the Final Dark.

The gift of hope to her last, The Rainteller, Seer of the Endless Spring.

The Tribe would never address them by these names. In time they would have others, perhaps Clan names from their father — but this was Candle's gift to them, that they would never need to sacrifice themselves to become whole. The Gods would know them as they were: unburdened, unblemished. Candle knew that her sisters would have smiled to see it.

After a time she gathered her strength once more and called out a soft invitation to @Sari and @Koa. Those who were most trusted would be allowed to see the newborns, though Candle wouldn't let them quite as close as Zoug. Not yet.

Tiny bit of PP on my part for Zoug, lmk if I have to change it.

S'ari dragged her pregnant self to the opening of Candle's birthing den and poked her head inside, after making sure that Zoug wouldn't bite her head off. She went no farther than that, for no mother with pups just born would allow anyone close, not even a trusted friend. The smell of blood and amniotic fluid filled her nose, but underneath was the smell of four little sunlings. They smelled of life.

Well done, S'ari told her friend, then she pulled her head out of the den and let out a ululation of joy, howling to the sky, to the sun and moon, to the Desert Herself. And soon, her own pups would be born.

sons. daughters.

the tribe would go on.

the clan would go on.

outside the den, zoug ignored the procession of s'ari and perhaps koa, but with the first's voice did his own twine, tightly, proudly.

the coyote sang his song long into the night, exhorting the spirits with thanks until sky paled to grey.

then he would creep off to hunt for candle, though not before sweeping the nestled four with a soft single eye one last time before he returned.

Candle had given birth. Ko'a could smell it in the air. She had known the time was drawing near. Now, it had come.

When the Candlekeeper's voice rang out over the sands with invitation, Ko'a trotted along the winding river at a distance behind her cousin. 

She finds a place at the side of S'ari, peering in from the mouth of the den. Four pups coated of dark reds and coal. Candle, they are stunning! She praises and then joins her brethren in happy song.