• A Perfect Circle •

From dehumanization to arms production, for the benefit of the nation or its destruction. Power, power, the law of the land, those living for death will die by their own hand. Life's no ordeal if you come to terms, reject the system dictating the norms. From dehumanization to arms production, to hasten the nation towards its destruction. Power, power, the law of the land, those living for death will die by their own hand. Life's no ordeal if you come to terms, reject the system dictating the norms. It's your choice, your choice, your choice, your choice, peace or annihilation?

It would seem that the silvery female would lose out on the luxuriant pattern of sleeping she had developed over the course of winter and spring. Restlessness invades her conscious thoughts and she is pushed from her den as she had been for almost a month. As always, she surveys the area around her den, the canyons around Diveen had proven to be more useful than she could have imagined. They housed hidden areas that could give her newest litter freedom to move around, while still providing adequate security from beasts like Tobias. Her only regret this season had been her timing. Tingling awareness went through her as she felt the distant sting of battle. The need to go to her soul and aid him nearly had her doubling on her trail. She couldn't, and it killed her to know Devil was in harm's way without her there to help take care of the threat. Natalya had been born a killer, a fighter, and she had spent her life trying to train herself to be infallible in warfare.

She paces the halls of Diveen's inner workings, the scents of others here was faint, old. Though, she could not place the face, she had smelled the female's trail before, but that was a long time ago. Bright yellow gaze is shielded by tarnished silver as a momentary spell of nauseating pain hits her. Instantly she bolts for the den, the fur between her hind legs bearing the mark of one who is about to give birth.

Once she reaches the den, Natalya begins to settle in for a long seclusion. She hides this year's precious litter, safe in the depths of the pack, where no one will come look. Even if they did, they would not be able to follow her trail exactly. She wove a long line of dead end trails, cross-paths, and loops around the cavernous area of the canyon. The site she chose was a strategic one, the location deep within the canyon walls, its entrance more like a long hallway, curving and twisting until it came into a large room, light filtering down from a hole in the ceiling. A blue crystalline looking pool of water is in the center, just beneath the skylight, the area around the small pond wide enough to allow a worried parent reach her pups before they reached the ankle deep water. Distracted by another pang in her slightly swollen abdomen, Natalya stumbles a little, her ears lacing back as she gives a small whimper of worry. Birthing has been notoriously hard for her and as a result, Natalya stresses with each passing second that she may not live to watch her newborns thrive. Such things happen when you greet death for a brief moment on your first whelping.

Pain shoots from between her hips, trailing with sharp claws all the way up and down her back. Silver ears pull backward over her skull, her body finally lowering as she enters the den. She had almost missed the sharp step down, but once she was inside, she collapsed just out of the entrance. Her choice to move the den further into Diveen was due to a certain blemish on her bloodline. Tobias had been hunting, and until the boy was taken care of, Natalya would not take any chances. She simply could not. Another sharp and grueling pain hits her abdomen and sends her into a panting fit. It was not so bad once you got through the searing heat of such an affliction. Briefly, her mind wonders and she becomes curious as to whether the ancient wolves ever experienced this pain. After seven pups, you would think she would be used to such things, but the mind has a way of shielding one from remembering these pains. Hours drag on, and restless pacing sees her through the majority of the pain.

In her seclusion, thoughts and fears run through her mind almost constantly. She frets over the well-being of her only remaining daughter, Atania has been gone from Diveen for far too long for her mother's liking. Her mind constantly drifts to the only wolf to capture her soul and heart in one fell swoop, her yellow gaze flicking in the direction she felt him, which basically had her staring at the wall of her red rock den. The pain in her abdomen brings her back to the current situation, its sharp sting sending her to the ground, snarls and deep threatening growls coming from her twisting bodice. She writhes in this pain, feeling the unborn fight within her birth canal. Pecking order is hard to deal with for a mother. She yowls as she feels something within her break, the sound of utter hell and misery echoing out. The sound carried throughout Diveen she is sure of it, but her location confuses sounds.

Reluctantly, the tarnished silver assassin lays on her side, each of her nerves sending sharp pains along her spine and down her sides, even her legs are afflicted with pain. The force of it drove the breath from her lungs and brought tears to her eyes. Still, instinct urges her on, even when she wishes she could just end the pain. With the strength cultivated by her mother, Apollymi, she bears down and begins the long arduous pushing that will bring her newest litter into the world. She suffers alone as her imprint takes care of the threat that is her nephew, feeling the pain from him as he must feel this pain from her. It blends with her own, making her whimper like a weakling and cry like a pup with a thorn in its paw. How she wishes he was here right now.

When the first is finally here, she moves to rip the birthing sac from his face, once this is done, she looks down at her newest son. Yellow eyes widen with shock, and a cold chill runs down her spine, mixing with pain. White, pure and unadulterated, was his coat. A color that usually signified madness, dominance, and strength. Jaidah bore this color, given to her by their grandfather as well as their father. Now, this pup. Distaste curls her lip, but she cleans the whelp anyway. Jakayden, you are to prove your color to be wrong. Do not fail me in this, to do so would end your life. She speaks the name that first came to her mind, naming him after her grandfather, who was once called "the mad king" by his pack members. Silver head is laid back down on the floor, her eyes closing against another rush of pain. Contractions caused blood from her internal tearing rush out, its metallic scent filling the den. Panic has her rushing herself, trying to get the pain and blood to end. Her pushing helps his journey out, but it does not hurry it as she wished. Instead, she is sent through more pain over a bit longer of a time period. Finally, she is rewarded by the ease of pressure, and her fears of another white pup are put to rest as an obsidian form is spotted laying still at her rear.

Her heart stops dead in its tracks, her eyes noting with panicked detail that the birthing sack has suctioned to the last born pup. Quickly, she is on her paws, ignoring the protests of her body and the white pup alike as she makes a dash to save the dark baby. He doesn't move, one paw out of the sack and she knows now the ripping she felt within her. It was his sharp puppy claws against her uterus walls, tearing her inside. Blood pours down her hind legs as she races to get the baby to breathe. Her pink tongue is harsh in her panic, the pressure frantic as she licks her baby and tries to make him breathe with gentle pushes upon his lungs. Finally, the little one gives a high pitched scream of life, and a howl of elation leave his mother's lips. She curls around the forms of her new litter, unknowing that this will be her last. Smiling, she looks at the last newborns she will ever have, blood pooling behind her, though the flow is slowing on its own. She is exhausted, hurting, and wishing she makes it through the night. Exodus, pray you didn't kill your mother this night. You and your brother are precious, and I wish to see you to adulthood. She spends the last few moments of her consciousness on their well-being. Ensuring that they get a good meal, are clean and warm, and that she will protect them with her body from the elements should she find herself in the spirit realm come morning. Slowly, she lets go, passing out from her ordeal, praying she will wake and see her Devil, and not her mother.

Thanks to Catarina @ Caution for this lovely code. 8D