Sleep. I had never treasured it so much as I did in those first days following the birth of my children. It had drained me, wholly and completely, the labor that had brought my four precious dragons into the world. Even in those days when they were blind and wanted for nothing but milk and warmth, their personalities had begun to emerge. Drogon, quietly demanding and prone to force his way between his siblings to get what it was he wanted. Viserion, calculating even then which teat gave the best stream of milk, and always attaining it for himself. Rhaegal, infantile though he was, I could tell someday he would charm everyone he met. Kalseru, she was already a wandering soul who often found herself on the wrong side of the den. And then of course their eyes opened and mewls slowly became words. And still I was so tired. Always tired. Swallowbane had told me it was a common side effect of large litters, and first litters no less. I smiled at the thought of my brother, how he was slowly transforming from the distant, long lost sibling who (for reasons unknown to me) loathed my very existence, into a caring figure among the pack. He’d taken Niviaq’s lessons seriously and learned all he could so that he would be a reliable wolf to call forth to the birthing this spring.

I’d not ventured far from the den since the birthing, only once had I gone so far as to greet my sister Haven and her companion Hollowpoint in a clearing not far from the one that housed my den. But at the haunting howl that filled the skies I knew I could rest no longer. My bodice was beginning to recover, and I could not ignore such a call or send another in my place. The howl had beckoned me, or anyone, to the wolf’s aid. I glanced around, searching for Jericho, knowing he would be nearby. Only when I had confirmed that he was close at hand to keep an eye on the whelps did I turn and gallop away from the den.

Almost immediately my body protested. My lungs burned from the start and the muscles in my legs felt like they were on fire, reminding me of their continued disuse for the past month. I was out of shape for certain, but I would not let that stop me. I pelted hell for leather down the hill, ignoring the protestatios of my heart hammering in my chest at the exertion. There was no way Jericho would have let me go if he had known I would push myself so hard. But I pushed.

I reached the foothills and finally slowed my speed. My legs felt like jelly beneath me, screaming their need to collapse beneath me, but I continued on. Now I moved at a jog, not so graceful as it had been last fall, but it carried me through the rolling lands at the base of my mountain never the less. I searched for any trace of her, a paw print or her scent on a bush or blade of grass. It took me some time of weaving back and forth along the area where I thought her call to have originated from, but I finally caught the trail of her scent and followed it deeper into the foothills. It was then that I realized she held a few similar notes to the scent of my friend Reich, the mute wolf from Asteraia who I had once had the pleasure of escorting through my homelands. Of course it also reminded me of Fenrir, which made my figurative lip curl, but I contained my disdain for him and continued my search for the shewolf who had pleaded for my assistance.

When I finally found the den where she had stowed herself away, I approached its entrance slowly. Keen ears pressed forward, listening for sounds of distress. Instead, I heard the familiar squeaks of puppies. My head lifted alertly and I paused, knowing the ferocity with which I would protect my own offspring. But she had called for me, and so I could only let her know I was here, and find out if she needed any help that I could not offer. “Hello? Is everything alright?” I called softly, but with a strength to it that could be mistaken for nothing less than one who bore the weight of leadership. My legs quivered beneath me, a reminder of how much I had taken advantage of the adrenaline that had fueled my sprint to reach her. If she needed any real help, I would probably be forced to call upon another, to help not only her, but myself in due time.