She paces restlessly.. endlessly. Soft whines which are barely even audible to anyone who may be lurking near seeping from her taught lips. She is a first time mother but she knows that this is only a sign of things soon to come.

In the days leading up to this moment she felt as if her belly could grow no more, her womb filled to the brim with offspring of the gentle giant, it was almost too much for her to bear any longer. But today she will be given the relief of birthing these children and releasing the burden upon her otherwise thin frame. If only she could start pushing already!

Whines of discomfort turn to huffs of frustration as she continues to pace in front of her densite. She makes an attempt to lay down in the confines of it once, turns about, and cannot find a comfortable enough position to stay. So she returns to pacing outside of the entrance once more.

It is utter torture that she cannot just be rid of all of this pain at once. And so she howls a long and pained call into the early morning, painting the sky with her chorus as the first light begins to come up over the horizon. A sudden jolt of agony has her scurrying back into the depths of her den and it is then that she understands their time has come. They wish to be shown to the world now.

She circles around in the den once again and lays on her side as her lungs begin to heave. The discomfort intensifies and yet it is not so terrible as she first may have believed. With a strong push the whelp is brought into this dark world and cleaned of its birthing sac before being brought to her belly. She noses it gently for a moment as her eyes drink in the strangeness of it all; to have a living, breathing thing now wiggling at her side. Something of her own blood.

The girl is beautiful with little pink pads and a nose to match mom. But her white coat is marked in grays and the lightest of red that she is not even sure is there or not. She nudges the girl gently once more, urging her to a full teat before another spasm has her focusing on the task at hand. She lays her head back to the earth and away from the first pup as she pushes again and again to get the second whelp out. This time is not as quick and yet the pain never exceeds what the first pup had brought to her.

A final push brings her the joy of seeing her baby boy struggling to be released from his cocoon. She quickly bites away at the casing and instantly his cries are heard. She brings him closer to her and notices just how much larger he is compared to his sister. Not to mention the stark differences in their colors. He is a boy of the deepest ruddy brown marked with lighter variations and struck with blackened brindle across his back. She sighs in content and allows herself to relax at last, relieved that the journey has come to an end.

The pink and orange hues of the morning just now begin to paint the fields in front of her den, bringing the promise of a warm spring day with it. But for now she will doze lightly in the protection of her den.