Sometimes Samara just wanted to get out. The den felt cramped and she was sore and she just wanted her body back! Not that she wasn't in love with the little lives growing inside her but she'd never really realized how miserable she could feel. She was almost certain she'd missed the whole glowing step and just moved onto awkward waddling and hormonal hurricanes. But there was also something calming about being at the bay, the warm spring sun helping to warm her and the sand. Which she was laid out upon, her limbs stretched out and head tipped back to catch the sun on her face. The gentle lapping of waves helped to calm her. She breathed a deep sigh when her emotions weren't occupied by the pain on her back and abdomen the pregnancy caused or the roller coaster of emotions that ripped through her at seemingly random times, well she was truly happy to find herself here. A gentle humm lifting from her lips, a gentle lullaby for the lives growing inside her. ""

Motif did very much love the bay. It was her favourite place in the world, to sit and watch the crashing of the waves. She loved the sound they made, as they fell against the stones at the base of the Moontouched cliffs. She didn’t go out to the island much, despite it being a main territory of Abaven. It felt too far away, too removed from where she had been born. She came here to sing, and to reminisce, and maybe wallow, just a little. For empty wishes of how her world used to be. She didn’t expect to come here and hear the soft humming of another. At first, she didn’t recognise the gentle voice, and then she would find Samara. The pregnant woman carried Motif’s half siblings. Wasn’t that a weird thought? With a half smile, she remembered how Theory was actually only related to her by one parent. She forgot sometimes, with how much she loved her sister. If she could love Theory so much, why couldn’t she also love these children, just as easily? She approached Samara with caution. She didn’t really know what the woman thought of her, or she Samara. But she was willing to give the other girl a try. She knew Samara wasn’t replacing Shaye in her life, she was giving something Rhyme dearly needed. A partner, love, companionship. A future. She knew Rhyme had been depressed, and had seen the changes Samara had left in him. “Hi… Samara.. Have you.. Have they, kicked yet?” she asked, meek and awkwardly. "Motif"

The woman's eyelids had slid closed as she'd hummed, feeling herself just drift off in the moment, Samara's voice lifting her as it lilted in no particular pattern. So she didn't notice Motif's approach, lulled back to consciousness by the unsure tones of the young woman. Slowly she blinked back to reality, turning to look over her shoulder at the young woman. Samara smiled softly, maybe pregnancy had softened her too. She nodded, then seemed to find her voice again after her song had been cut off. "It feels like they never stop." She said softly, her tones lifting into a laugh. She gestured with her muzzle for Motif to come closer. "Do you want to feel?" She offered, she idly wondered if Motif had ever gotten to feel a pregnant stomach before, it could be a new way to bond, or it could gross others out. She'd met both sorts but she wanted to help the young woman feel close to her soon to be half-siblings. Though Samara was not intending on letting her children forget the greatness of their heritage neither did she want to deprive them of the close bonds she shared with her family. They'd be siblings to Rhyme's other children. They'd be a family, even if she herself didn't necessarily integrate fully into the girl's lives. She'd raise them in Abaven and so they'd need to feel at home here. ""

Samara’s laughter invited a smile, and Motif allowed it to blossom gently across her features. At Samara’s gesture, she approached and sat down besides the older woman. “Oh, yes, please” she whispered softly back. Voice ever so slightly in excitement. Motif had always loved children, though she hadn’t been around very many in her young life. With no need for any further prompting, Motif came closer, propping herself up, and curling her unusually long tail around the two of them. She found the threads of Samara’s song, though she had not heard the tune before. She was a good mimic when it came to music, and was soon humming gently. Her paw, very gently, brushed against the other woman's stomach, searching, and then finding, the gentle spots of pressure. “Oh!” she gasped softly, feeling the movement of life within. Oh she could not wait to meet these little ones. "Motif"

Samara couldn't help but chuckle at Motif's excitement. It seemed the young woman needed no further invitation and she settled in the sand before her. Gently she was wrapped in the girl's tail and closed her eyes as gentle paws worked at her abdomen, she felt the pups squirming within her and heard Motif's exclamation. For a moment she joined the girl in her return to song. The pups would know her voice and her lullabies, but she wondered if they'd know their father from the soft whispers he laid into her stomach, or know Motif by her gentle touch. She prayed they would, for all her machinations she wanted her children to grow up knowing love, even the awkward sort of love she felt now for the gentle girl who was connecting with her siblings for the first time. "I've heard your an accomplished healer." Samara's voice was just enough she could be sure Motif heard but she was loath to break the sort of peaceful quality of the world in this one moment."Would you be interested in helping me through their birth? Your father will likely be indisposed and it would mean the world to both of us for you, and your sisters, to be there." More than the world, it was necessary for the little plan the pair had cooked up, but she'd not share that. She was nothing if not good at keeping secrets. ""

Samara raised her voice again, humming along with Motif. For a moment, she wasn’t alone. For a moment, she remembered rainy days in the den she had been born to. Her mother's voice singing softly as she organised her healing supplies, or gently touched her feather collection. She didn’t realise how tears dampened her cheek, as she leaned her head against Samara’s side. Keeping her paw on older womans stomach, where she had first felt movement within. She was very surprised when Samara requested her presence at the birthing. “I would be delighted she murmured back in equally soft tones. She hoped Samara did not mind how Motif had, inadvertently, ended up curled around the smaller wolf. Her tail circling the both of them. [b]"Motif"