She was in shock. She could feel it like a numbness in her veins. Cold, cold like the way her skin felt on her bones. Cold, like the tremors that wracked through her body. The blood trailing down her side was warm, though she could barely feel it. All she could feel was the arms of her lover about her. The look of fear in his eyes as he told her to run. She could feel his last breath as she disobeyed him, returning to his dying side. The bear beside him, dying. Both of them, dying. She hadn’t thought the bear would have the strength to stand, and the shock of it had taken her by surprise. Its death throes, its claws on her stomach. There were gaps missing from her memory. She did not remember leaving the body of her love, of arriving outside the vaguely familiar borders of a pack that smelled only faintly of family. She stopped at the scent markers, some primal part of her brain telling her not to cross. It was here she collapsed, falling pinto the hard-packed earth as her stomach began to convulse. Weak, so weak. She couldn’t even feel them moving inside of her, not anymore. But her body gave her no respite. A cry of pain and terror tore through her as the contractions began. Right there, on the border of Fireside. "Motif"

Tyrian was making his rounds when a primal cry caught his attention. He stared in the direction of the noise with a look of suspicion on his face for several long seconds as he tried to make up his mind. Naturally wary, he was always primed to think the worst of a situation so his first thought wasn't that someone was in distress but that someone was trying to lure him away from the protection of home. Finally, with careful, wary steps he set off for the noise. Instead of approaching it directly Tyrian made a wide circle. He stayed alert and watchful as he approached, and took his sweet time in assessing the situation. All of his caution went out the window when he caught sight of the woman's familiar markings. Though his interactions with this Destruction were limited Tyrian recognized her as family immediately. He was at her side in an instant, his senses overwhelmed by the blood. Tyrian placed a paw on her cheek. “Hey, easy now. You're alright.” He mind swam in search of a name. Not Poem. Something word related though. Like a song or a verse or- “Motif? Motif, is it? You're going to be alright, Motif.” His paws fell to the gashes on her side as he tried to stifle the bleeding. She was a mess and he didn't know where to begin. ""

Her body was screaming for her to push, but every sudden motion sent pain thrumming straight through her soul. Her sides leaked from the deep cuts left by the bears claws. She whimpered, caught between the two overwhelming warnings of her body push and hold another scream tore through her throat as her body chose for her. Pushing with a strength she didn't know she possessed. A feeble cry shook her coat, and the world seemed to dim around her. How long she lay there she couldn't say, before a wolf was at her side. There was something vaguely familiar about the man. Enough that she did not try to pull away - not that she would have had the strength or willpower to do so even if he meant her death. She whimpered, burying her nose in his coat, in too much pain to care about crossing any personal boundaries. "Rhyme, Shaye" She whispered, begging him. Forgotten in the midst of her pain that Shaye was gone, and the news of her father had never reached her. She let out another cry, her entire body convulsing with the push. "My babies, my babies, don't let them die" She begged. Her panting breath almost choking on the words as she forced them through. "Motif"

She clung to him in fear which only served to height Tyrian's alarm. As he pressed against the bleeding wounds Tyrian felt a familiar stiff band move under his paw. From his time with the sheep he recognized the subtle movement as a contraction and his eyes flashed to Motif's as his alarm doubled. Well, shit. "Fuck," he murmured out loud. Forcing calm, Tyrian said, "I'm not going anywhere, okay?" He had minimal experience with injuries and labor in wolves, but in sheep he had it in spades. How different could it be? He could handle this... "I think your babies are coming so this is what we're going to do. I'm going to take care of these wounds while you handle the babies, eh? We can do this," he said firmly. ""

The half-stranger stayed with her all the while. She was conscious of him at a primal level, but all of her attention was on the pain and the pregnancy that was about to happen. She was so weak from bloodloss, she could feel her strength ebbing away. Everything hurt, it all hurt so much. It would be so easy to close her eyes, and let it all slip away… But her babies. Her babies need her. Could she subject them to starving shortly after their mothers death? She must continue, it was the only way. She held Tyrian with a newfound strength, gritting her teeth. His words giving her some comfort, some hope. He wasn’t going anywhere, she wasn’t alone through this. He promised to care for her wounds, and she groaned softly in response. Feeling another urge to push roll through her. She heaved, gasping with the pain of it. A whine tore through her, and she began to pant. It wasn’t long now, the pups were almost here. She pushed again, and felt one slide free onto the grass. A boy, or a girl? She waited to hear the sound of their cry. Too tired to reach around and grab the pup. But Ty would set it to suckle, surely he would. "Motif"

Tyrian did his best to tend Motif's wounds as she labored. He had to be creative as he had no supplies on hand and he'd promised not to leave her which meant he was limited to only what could be found nearby. Still, he made do as best he could all the while offering words of encouragement and keeping an eye on the progress of her labor. As the first babe was born Tyrian seized it gently and moved into the light with it. It looked so small in his bloodied paws and was terribly still; its small, blunted mouth gapped just enough to reveal a pale tongue. Seizing upon the severity of the pup's situation, a feeling of calm concentration settled over Tyrian. He laid down with the pup and began to rub its sides and back vigorously. It refused to stir. He tilted it forward so it faced the ground below and thumped it gently, but purposefully, on the back. He cast a quick glance at Motif, but made sure to keep his expression in check. Tyrian wasn't going to give up just yet, but the outlook was growing more grim by the second. ""

The pain grew, and Motif's body began to shake from the strain of it all. It was all so much, too much. Her husband had died in the arms on their way home to introduce him to her family. Her babies inside of her needed to be born now and her body was weak and wounded. She could feel her vision dimming at the corners, and she had no idea how she held on. The strength of a mother, perhaps. The strength of Shaye, who had taught her never to give up. Her little baby wasn’t brought to suckle yet, and she tried to get his attention. What was his name? Suddenly it was so much more important. rain.. Ran… Rian… Tyrian. Tyrian, that was it. “Tyrian, please, they need to suckle” she gasped out as another contraction hit her. The next pup was ready, whether she was or not. She had no choice but to dig her forepaws into the earth, groaning as her body pushed, and the next and final pup was born. "Motif"

As the second pup was clearly on its way Tyrian was forced to admit defeat and move on to preparing for it. He set the first pup down gently and said nothing for fear of upsetting Motif. He would gladly take every second she didn't question him as he feared the moment he would be forced to reveal the loss. What could he possibly say that would do the gravity of the situation justice? That moment came almost as soon as he formed the thought. Fuck. Tyrian's gaze lifted to Motif's slowly. He searched her eyes pleadingly before saying gently, "That little one didn't make it." The second he held onto same as the first. This one, like its older sibling, was also still. Tyrian set about rubbing its back. He wasn't feeling optimistic about it, but he had to try. ""

“No, no” she moaned. It couldn’t be true. Everything had been for this moment. She lived, she had arrived, so that she could hold those little lives in her arms. So she could feel their heart beating, and hear their first cries. She was to be a mother to these little lives. They were all that was left of the man she had loved and lost. She body shook with a tremor, grief catching up to her, and mixing with the pain. She had lost him, and she had failed him. Tears sank into her cheeks, mingling with blood and running pink into the grass. Gone, all gone. She closed her eyes and drifted away. -exit via unconsciousness- "Motif"