This baby’s full *chucks baby*

She felt like she knew too late.

Seemingly all at once, another litter was born to a malnourished — purposefully, for Elkshire was not a floundering pack — mother.

Ts'iwaangit and Siilgit helped her, but in the end, she was the one who brought the (admittedly large for the season) fish stuffed with herbs to the den.

She had kept her distance from the heart of the pack for most of her time here, so searching for the den left her wandering through the woods, but she followed the unmistakable smell of birth through the blood of the fish in her maw.

if @Célnes doesn't respond feel free to intercept her before she arrives to the den

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She nursed them, as any able mother would do. A crawling within her gut though of the desire to oh-so throw away, but by the heavens of the High Elk would she be smitted, to ignore the sounds of the innocent. But Celnes couldn't bond with them, she couldn't find it within her heart to cradle them like she did with her first eight, her wonderful young.. She missed them all dearly, the desire to hold and kiss them all a goodnight, and to see at least some of their faces again. She would hope, the three were safe and sound somewhere. 

 But she did as any would do, even a midwife. She would clean them, bathe them, making sure they gotten their nutrients. Craddling to her womb as they cried and mewled, sounds of small ones. More silence, then she remembered from her first, as they were cut in half, and even less holy.

She could hear the sound of movements, the smell of one not of Elkshire, yet their scent was mixed to the land itself. She rose her head, her eyes looking out of the den hole as she muttered, "Mooksgm’ol?"

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She was a vocal one, squirming and mewling but content with each grab of a teat to suckle on. At the very least there wasn't much of a fight for they all managed to find one, but on occasion did she feel someone was crushing her and would make noises of displeasement. They were not met though, often times of an ignorance unless her calls were the upmost important, like a cleaning or more food. Yet they craved warmth ; that was not met.

She cried once, stirring from the movement as her dame as well moved to rise her head. She could barely hear, see or even smell, all that she knew was the movement of those next to.

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She had never been trained as a midwife, for bears had little need of support at the time of birth. For the most crucial moments of a cub's life, their mother was asleep. But she knew, instinctively, that starving was wrong, no matter the mother. She couldn't fathom why Célnes would jeopardize both herself and the lives of her pups this way.

Whatever concern she had disappeared, as her maternal instincts made her heart soften as she heard one of the pups coo. She was far removed from the cute, loveable days of her cubs, and she was curious about wolf pups. She hummed back, then remembered that the pup couldn't hear her just yet. “How are dey? How are you?” She stayed outside the den, her head near the entrance but not entering.
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The bear was too large to even attempt to fit in and see fully — but she imagined the others head could peak in enough if she wanted to. Her head peaked out from the den before gently reaching back within, but smiling.. Faintly, and strained at the other, "They are doing well," maybe too well. With how she treated herself it wouldn't have been a surprise of something had happened, but in the end ; the young were safe. Delivered within warmth and of no help, she didn't call for anyone, and kept within the comfort of herself. Only nursing and cleaning as she did so ; even if there was a hesitance, she dutifully continued helping them live.

 

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