He'd kept each of them a secret from the other - at least, he had tried. Effort was not his strong suite however and so, he had compensated by avoiding Sekhmet when he could lest he suffer punishment for her condition or his insistence on being involved with another woman. Kweku was simple though: he could not have helped it. He knew, however, that he could likely not love Matianak despite his plans to stay nice and near - as for Sekhmet? He'd sworn himself to her long ago and he doubted that'd change over a single winter.
But he still feared her condition, even more so the closer to birth she came. Nonetheless, he was instinctively drawn towards her despite the storm within both her and the sky. And so he had been a shadow to her, out of view but there, as the wind and rain lashed at him. It was out in the storm that he remained as the smell of blood and afterbirth permeated the area around the den - he made short work of that, however. He patrolled the perimeter, scent marking to deter the others, before he took his place outside the den's mouth, curled into a sturdy ball to withstand the storm outside.
Mewing. Silence. Hers but not theirs. It madef his ears flicker to attention as his silver eyes turned towards the den - he called out to her then, a deep growl of greeting, as he shuffled towards the darkness within. Curious, he peered in though he could see little more than the darkness. But he could hear them, smell her, hear Sekhmet's breath, smell the new life. He snorted, a half-sneeze of surprise, before he forced himself to stay and wait for her approval.