She doesn’t cease rolling as she hears the sounds of Ragnarok rising echoing quietly from the den, too focused on the incessant itch in a spot that always seems just out of reach. Sprawled so carelessly on her back a smile spreads across her glowing face as she seems him emerge, tongue lolling out from the side of her mouth as he takes in her surely odd posture. Her tail thumps the ground as he approaches, her aquamarine gaze watching every move he makes with no less love and amazement than the first time she had laid eyes on him. “Good morning my love,” she says finally as he pokes at her swollen stomach, twisting even more oddly to nibble gently on his large forepaw which lay closest to her. She could feel the pups in her stomach reacting to her touch, rolling and kicking blindly as they are moved about by his prodding. “They know you are there,” she says quietly, the awe almost tangible in her voice. Being pregnant had been quite an experience for the smaller woman, the first time she had been responsible for anything or anyone other than her own and it constantly amazed her.

She suppressed a laugh at his quizzical gaze, knowing he was willing to help ease her discomfort if she would but roll over, however these days that was much easier said than done. After much huffing, puffing, and rolling from side to side she finally managed to get her feet beneath her again and presented her now dirt-covered fur to the wonderful relief of his teeth. Her back arched as he worked his magic, leaning into the click of his teeth in certain areas where the relief was almost euphoric. Today, however, she cannot seem to get comfortable for long and soon rises from her position to pace around the clearing before their home. Low whines echo around them as she paces, attempting to lie beside him once more but after turning around once, twice, three times she gave up and resumed her pacing. An odd discomfort was beginning to form in the pit of her stomach and she cast more than a few concerned looks toward her Moon, what if something had gone wrong? She could see the question in his eyes but was far too preoccupied to be able to respond.

As a wave of pain washed over her, contracting her muscles involuntarily, instinct took hold and she yearned for the safety and reassurance of the den they had carved out together. Stumbling, almost drunk with the discomfort she now felt, she made for the pelts that had been laid out for this very purpose. She heard Ragnarok attempt to follow her in, and despite her yearning for his comfort instinct demanded that she do this alone, it was not for him. She growled low in her throat quiet but enough so he could hear, and with a flash of fang more in warning than anything she disappeared in to the darkness.

Panting she continued to pace, head dropped slightly to avoid brushing against the lower ceiling in this part of the den. Her whines continued, growing to snarls as the pain would spike and stop her in her tracks before continuing on. She lost track of time during all of this, no way to track time other than her labored breathing and contractions, but finally she fell to her side, pink tongue lolling out of her parted muzzle as she panted hot and heavy breaths almost used to the constant feeling of pain and muscle spasms. Just when it seemed like the pain had leveled out it spiked, coiling in on herself she fought against it, pushed against the pain until suddenly there was an odd relief. Twisting over her back she nosed around her thick golden fur, now wet with blood and other fluids, until she unearthed the strangest form of the newborn pup. Despite her inexperience and slight confusion instinct prevailed and she bends down to lick at the amniotic sac around the pup, breaking it open with gentle teeth before moving the small form up closer to her stomach. She curls around it protectively, as Ragnarok often did to her, before focusing on getting it clean. As the birthing fluid diminished small cries began to sound from the pup, a girl she had discovered, her coat a split between herself and Ragnarok’s, her brilliant gold on top and his shining gray below. Beautiful.

Her breath grew shallow again, eyes closing against the pain as it resurfaced with a new ferocity. Despite wanting to focus all her attention on her daughter she could not even see straight; so once more she abandons herself to the growing pressure until relief comes flooding in once more. This time she discovers a boy, shades of gold covering his body unhindered as they did her own and hurries to set him with his sister. Twice more does the process repeat, seeming to grow more difficult as it progressed as her strength ebbed. As the beautiful gray and cinnamon girl who greatly favors her father and the spectacularly white boy join their sibling Church manages to nose them toward her stomach, sighing with immense relief as they finally suckle, clambering over one another.

As the pain ebbs she silently prays that there will be no more of them, four she had decided was a very good number of pups for their family all whole and healthy as far as her eyes could tell. Her lids grow heavy, sleep threatening to take her as her body curls defensively around her children, but she catches the barest sounds of Ragnarok still guarding the front of the cave no doubt and she yearns for him. A low growl escapes her, echoing to him at the mouth of the den followed by a soft whine. A warning and an invitation, her instincts made her protective of her young toward all, even her soul mate, the past-lives of wolves warning that not all fathers were so receptive to the young. Her soul was at piece though, a part of her fighting those instincts and knowing that Ragnarok would never hurt their children any more than he would hurt her. "See what our love has brought in to the world," she manages through heavy breaths.