The closer that they came to a time in which the children would be forever loose upon this world meant the more agitated Astrid became. Zaphkiel was careful around her now for even in her grumpy nature she had not been quite as vicious as she had been of late and he did everything he could to not push her. It was bad for the pups, so he had heard. He hunted despite how she chafed beneath the restriction of her condition and he filled the den with food and pelts and whatever was necessary. Often he peered into their hollowed out tree-den with a sort of pensive look, debating whether two more bodies could fit in there and for how long. Maybe once the pair were old enough he could craft them their own den nearby so that he would get the den back with Astrid and would be able to stretch out again. She sighed woefully at times which always made Zaphkiel feel rather bad since he had gotten her this way after all but he put on a brave face and told her it would be as easy as... well who knew? Hunting? He wasn't quite sure.

He slumbered in a deep sleep, his mind drifting off to an auroch the size of a large draft horse and the adrenaline that coursed through him as he figured out ways to disable the poor beast. Imagined dragging it's huge body (which was, of course, impossible in real life) back to the brilliantly bloated figure of his mate. Yet the auroch moves in his grip and its horn stings as it pinches his skin and Zaphkiel lets out a startled yelp and jolts upright, likely slamming his face into Astrid's at his swift movement and peering at her in embarrassment. He senses the change almost immediately. Fur begins to stand on end as if electrified and his pupil widens as she chases him out of the den with his tail tucked between his legs in a bewildered moment. What in the hell!

For a few minutes he stands awkwardly outside their den, his ears intent on catching each sound of her paws scuffing the ground and the small grunts of air until the whines and the growls begin. It sounds almost like she is killing something in there and his ears lay flat and to the sides, his one good eye swollen with his pupil as he begins to pace back and forth, both reflexively tensing and relaxing with each noise he hears from her. Was this normal? Would it all just come plopping right out? He was morbidly curious at how that worked and went to peek his head in only to be met with that fierce some growl and immediately yanked back. Maybe it wasn't worth seeing.

Pups! They were going to kill his mate! No, he was killing his mate cause he had put them in there! He switches between these thoughts and they are like juggernauts, trumping everything until finally he hears a moment of relief and silence and he peeks back in. Astrid lays in exhaustion with a pup and she smiles at him. Instantly he smiles back, haunches tensing as if to come in except she does say come in and he wasn't sure she was sane again yet. "Asariel," he breathes and nods in approval and then things begin again and he retreats.

Okay, after this all would be fine. "Just one more," he intones into the den as if to try and calm her down. Asariel was so small that one more wouldn't be bad, he thinks, relaxing at the idea now. Vortigern, she says after the second one comes and he grins suddenly, tail whipping back and forth as he lays down at the den entrance. "A son and a daughter. We have done good," he says with a sigh of relief.

Until her sides begin rolling again and she peeks at him. His smile falls away, his jaw opens, and he gapes at her. "Are you sure this isn't just some after effect?" And perhaps he should NOT have said that mid-birth, his voice almost suspicious as if she was playing some joke on him but now, next comes another son. Tiny, small, but just as beautiful as the others, if one can think the slimy creatures beautiful when they first arrive. "More than," he chokes out to her, clearly shell shocked at having three when he was CERTAIN there were only two.

Her words cut off and his ears fold back as he whines suddenly, fearful that this was leading where he suddenly thought it was. No more space in the den. No more cuddling with his mate. Just... sleeping outside. But each time his eye fell to his children a wave of possession grew about him, a protectiveness that eased the worry in his mind. Another daughter, an equal split, and yet he waits with tense muscles to make certain that he wasn't going to have five instead of four. Come see, she says in her clearly exhausted manner and he bolts into the den like a fox into a nest, moving to push his muzzle against her own and lick her cheek before sniffing each child in turn.

They smelled... like home. That scent about them was wholesome and relaxing and so perfect that if he had harbored anymore doubts they were swept away. Each one earns a long grooming from him even if he grimaces at the faint taste of whatever the hell that was that still tried to cling to their small bodies. "They are.... there is no room," he sighs quite suddenly before sinking to his haunches in an awkward position against the wall of the den with the pups directly as his feet and Astrid's head. "What are we going to do with four of them?" And his voice, however happy, seemed completely baffled.