[birth] descendants of mine
Night comes upon the shrine and, upon feeling an uncomfortable, familiar squeezing in her abdomen, Leera slips away through the trees to retreat to her tangle of thickets. It will serve well as a birthing den, warm and dark and safe, and as she disappears into the small refuge of it she realizes this will be the first place the children will see. Good, she thinks, curling into the furthest recess and lying down on her side. They will know security, warmth, milk... It is all a child needs at the start of his life.
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As Tyranis came to the woman’s den he could already smell afterbirth and the distinct scent on his heirs. His second litter and the first born on Erovrare’s soil. He entered the den with little ceremony, carrying himself as the man he was; a king and a father with every right to be there whether the pointed woman wanted it or not. The air in the den was charged with the energy of his ancestors and as the lightning king looked upon his hearty litter a regal smile graced his lips.
“You have done well Leera.” He purred and offered to nudge his head against hers affectionately. He looked upon his children, his smile widening. One was noticeably larger than the rest but all of them far exceeded the two writhing creatures Aranea had birthed for him. “You have done me a great honor.” He said resolutely, his nose turned down to inspect his children more thoroughly.
“Have you named them?” He asked with uncharacteristic softness as the pups grunted and whimpered at their mother’s breasts. He was no longer sure if it would be fitting to name them as his mother had named her children. Would she turn in her grave to know that he carried on the tradition of naming them after destructive weather formations? Some small part of him hoped so. Some part of him hoped his mother was already dead and looking upon his most recent get sorely regretting scorning him as she had.