09-23-2009, 06:30 PM
I didn't write anything about Hanna - I'll leave that to you :]
Word Count: 692
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Word Count: 692
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She had been caught unawares when it set off, certain that she had more days - more time to see and do what she wanted. She had wanted to see her brother, and her nephews. But, Conor would have to find someone else to help him now. She'd dreaded this with every fabric of her body ever since she came to learn of it. As Hanna guided her through every step with the safety of knowledge, Mew laid awaiting her death - but none came. Pains shook her, pains that were unexpected. After all, she had passed out last time - she didn't remember a thing. For every surge that went through her, she shrieked and expected the darkness to come, her desperation growing ever stronger every time she felt the waves of pain. This time she was highly awake, and the event lasted longer than she could comprehend. In fact, the time she spent giving birth had not been unusually long, but she didn't know that. But, the excruciating experience was soon forgotten as she gazed upon the result. In fact for a time she had simply laid crying with relief, her emerald eyes studying the roof of her den without goal, not even interested in seeing her bastard children. Her thoughts were far from Lubomir, and he did not deserve to be in her mind that moment anyway. Again, she had been granted life when she had thought death would take her. Thoughts of gratitude rose from her weary mind as she lay still for moments that seemed longer than they were. She was alive, death had not taken her. This time, she had not been robbed of anything at all. There were three of them. There could have been more, but the litter was not unusually small. Mew had heard of numbers far higher than three, but she was glad. One of them, the brown-coated male, lay still against her body. They made few sounds, but out of them this was probably the liveliest. The two girls were almost identical, but the one had a white belly, and the other was all gray, but tiny. They were all so tiny - so frail. Mew's nose nudged them, one by one, and they sometimes mewled, sometimes did not stir. Their little chests moved as their bodies fed on air for the first night in their lives, and Mew found a small, quiet smile on her lips. None of them looked just like her, and while it pained her to see traces of her untrustworthy mate in them, she was glad to see her brother's timber wolf mirrored in the male. They lay so still, and were so tiny - her eyes simply could not stop examining their little bodies. Perfect little bodies, and she had brought them here. They had not been taken from her. One chapter of a life without children was closed now, finally, after years of desperation. She would still mourn her dead children, but now their deaths stood in the shadow of these three that were alive, and she would devote her whole life to them. They would have every advantage possible, not like her own upbringing. She would stay with them, if they wanted her to or not. Tranquility reigned in her cabin now, sounds only from small stirs of small bodies. Their tiny, sharp breaths, such rhythms! She could listen to their hearts forever. The night was eerie and silent outside, silence a thick blanket covering all. The floor was littered with blood-stained pieces of cloth, a scene speaking of more dramatics than what had occurred. A fresh blanket was the cradle for the little ones, and Mew lay curled around them, her head on her front paws and her eyes watching their every move. She had not given birth in silence, and most knew she had been carrying, but she hoped none would visit them during the night. This moment was for Hanna and Mew's little family alone - no one else. She was exhausted, but she would wait for the morning light, to see them properly. She had to see them properly. |