Children were, to put it quaintly, baffling. She had heard others talk of how easy it was. Feed, sleep, clean, and repeat, but it seemed she fed them often and one or both of them would still squall. It took her a few days to realize that this was because they were seeking warmth and the moment she laid down back down with them they would curl up to her and fall into a twitching slumber. It was... confining, to say the least. Praetor was thrilled and Aithne felt a fierce sense of protectiveness over the children. She would often find herself staring at them for long moments without blinking just to drink in the image and their markings. Lazarus with his bleeding heart and Aster with her warriors markings beneath her eyes. Did it signify what kind of wolves they would one day be? Be close and far away, Tesseract had said, and even in this moment she still grunts in dissatisfaction with that answer. The need to stretch her legs is strong and she thinks perhaps this will be the day she breaks down and calls for her mate to come laze about with the children. It is a mothers duty, she knows this, and that is why she has not left their side very much. She wants to prove to Praetor as much as her self that she could do it. She could be a mother.

But it was so very difficult.

With a huff of frustration she drops her large head onto her paws, shifting slightly and earning a chirp from them. They had begun to grow swiftly though and wrestled as much as their uncoordinated bodies allowed them to in the den. She found it fascinating even if she often sat off to the side, not having been drawn into the play yet. At least if she is in here she could sleep, she thinks, and closes her eyes with another huffed sigh that is met with the sound of paws scurrying down into the den.

Aithne's head jerks up, lips peeling back to reveal sizable fangs, and her body is stiff and ready to attack lest it be a mongoose intending to make a meal out of her children. Aster might be difficult for it to carry but Lazarus was significantly smaller and she worried for him, despite what Praetor said. Stunned eyes fall on the figure of a yearling who backtracks so quick she isn't sure she is seeing it correctly. Shit! Sorry! Aithne lifts herself then, stepping over her children who are awaking and moves to the entrance to find that the girl is sitting right there, apparently not realizing that it is a bad idea.

She is unfamiliar to Aithne except her scent, that earthy scent mixed with Maverick's, and she knows that this must be the reason the male had been scarce. Yet she doesn't resembled the beast wolf at all and Aithne had not brought any new females in. What an odd situation. Her eyes are narrowed on the girl as she moves to the head of her den which will force Pine to scurry out of the way unless she wants to be bowled over by Aithne's enormous size. "I wouldn't recommend doing that to any of the other dens around here. You might get a bite as a reward for such reckless behavior or worse, eaten." And she wasn't talking about wolves - there were all sorts of creatures that would take advantage if they had the chance. "What is your name, child of Maverick?" The last words are added as a way to decipher if she really was a child of Maverick's because otherwise the girl would counter it.

A touch at her heels draws her attention now, ears pricking as she curves her neck around to see Aster wobbling up beneath her. The girls green eyes peer at Pine with intense curiosity, the dark blue around her iris seeming bright against the color. She had begun to mimic her mothers sounds trying to learn language and in this moment opened her mouth to say "Maavvvvvv...ick".

Eight - Empress of Iromar - fated for Praetor

aithne