Kylar first please, then Maija and Basanti may join after the pups are born.

 

A familiar pain grasped her sides and shot through her with a vengeance. Jaws clenched as muscles strained to ride out the pain. Damn him. Damn him to deepest, darkest pit in hell. She would return to her den, the very alcove these little bastards had been conceived. Before slipping inside her crown tipped back to summon her husband to her side. She would flop down unceremoniously inside, pants parting her jaws. She would groan, the pain unbearable, yet deliciously so. But she knew that she would soon be cursed to raise yet more little hellions. Never in her wilder nightmares had she envisioned herself with so many offspring. The only up side was they would have older siblings to guide them down their destined path. A path that led to darkness and power. "Burn Baby Burn"

 

He was not sick in a physical sense, his body healthy enough to keep constantly moving but his mind was broken, rotting and volatile. He was cursed, the goddess was going to come down and smite him. He need to end it, he needed to finish it all so she would no longer curse him… So his new family would be safe… He was relentless in his movements, rarely stopping his trek around the boarder. By now the patrol had left a permanent track along the entire edge of their territory. Ceaseless mumblings would lip and slither from his lips, eyes wide as they stared down at his paws rather then flicking and flittering about to his surroundings as they usually would on his patrols. She was angry. She needed him to cleanse that bloodline or she would forever punish him. Basanti wasn't safe, Cat wasn't safe and his unborn children defiantly were not safe. For them to be safe Rune had to die… His children had to die… Amarant and Colten… They would have to die. All of them that con tainted the mixture of his own and Secret's bloodlines. Maybe the children would be okay… He truly did not want Amarant and Colten to die but if it meant the safety of his family… He would do anything for them. "Anything… Anything… They need to live. They need to die. Anything…" Over and over her would mutter and mumble, eyes wide as verdant gaze fixated on the ground. Hours had formed to days, days to weeks. Had it been months yet? Cat had not come to find him, hell if he even knew if she had spoke to him. He had seen the comings and goings of a number of wolves, had vaguely processed it but it wasn't until she heard his howl did he really even begin to snap out of it. 

Lazily his head would lift and he would stop his walking, blinking slowly before he would absent mindedly head towards his den of herbs. There he would gather the usual, he would gather pain relievers and things to help contractions before setting off at a lope towards their den. Collecting herbs helped centre him, helped him clear his mind at least a bit. He had to focus, had to be there for her. He would approach their new den quickly but as he drew close to its mouth he would slow. Head ducking he would slip inside and quickly set to work wordlessly. He would drop his bundles before picking up different herbs and different amounts and dropping them before her. "Eat…" He would instruct softly before moving to drop himself behind her protectively. "Ready for round three?" He would ask, trying to keep the mood light even as he sluggishly waded around in his mind for words he could string into a sentence. He felt scattered but he had to be here. He had to be here for her. 

He would answer her summons with diligence, slipping into their den with a mouthful of herbs. Her coral gaze searched face, immediately taking note. He had not been well, not at all. He was barely presence during the few times she had sought him out, his look was always wild and haunted. But he never spoke about why. She wanted to understand but she wasn't entirely sure he was capable of sharing whatever demons haunted him. Without a word she would ingest the herbs provided, her gaze following him as her laid down beside her, curling his larger frame around her own.[b] Fuck you[/b]. She would hiss angrily, shooting daggers at him. She was definitely not ready for round 3. Whatever he had given had helped, but there wasn't a plant strong enough to completely rid her body of the pain. Muscles clenched as she rode it out, a low growl mingling with her pants. Instinct would guide her and she would be forced to submit to her body, her sides heaving with effort. The first to be born would be a girl, nothing more than a blob of greys and wet fur. With sickening practiced ease she would groom the little bastard before nestling the wailing ball of flesh against her belly. It seemed she would never catch a break. Valentine had been the largest of her children, followed closely by Basanti. But neither of them could compare to this child. Renewed pain broke across her hind end without mercy, a pressure so great she was certain that she would explode. Her body heaved and heaved, a strangled whine leaving clenched jaws. Exhaustion had quickly settled, but she was given no rest. Her body was desperate to rid itself of the little hellions occupying her womb. Her gaze would flicker to her husband with a mixture of hate and uncertainty.  Again she would push, more than ready to rid herself of the added weight. Seconds turned into minutes, minutes turned into eternity. She had lost track of time by the time her second child was born. Relief had her body sagging, haphazardly dragging the monstrous child to her side. Her tongue rasped over his unreasonably large body before again tucking him against her belly. The world around her began to fade in and out of focus, stars clouding her vision. Blood seeped into the den floor, pooling around her. Sagging against her mate, she struggled to maintain awareness, too much blood surrounded her. Unconsciousness clawed at her mind, desperate to pull her under. Eyes fell shut unceremoniously, her body going limp. "Burn Baby Burn"

 

                    the babe’s incarceration had been tolerable, quaint; yet eviction from the confines of her mother’s degenerate womb warrants protest. tiny jaws unhinge to expel incessant wails of fury, of indignance -- a prequel to the choleric temperament that is destined to plague her budding psyche. and as her mother’s tongue lathers her flesh with the warmth of her saliva, so the sovari’s lamenting sobs dwindle into faint whimpers, comfort partially obtained. it is only once she is encouraged to feast that the babe’s distress is fully quelled, velveteen nostrils quivering as she indulges in the saccharine aroma of milk. pinpointing the source, tiny jaws gape once more { although silence prevails this time } to latch upon a teat, oblivious to the birth of her behemoth littermate just inches away.

His whole would would twist and convulse, heaving and pulling and the he would try and breath but there was nothing, just liquid to fill his tiny lungs. Time. It would take time for his birth, precious time he didn't have. More and more time would pass lungs burning as he tried to draw in air but could find none. It would take time, but eventually another convulsion and he would slip into a world of cold and hot. Blood would follow him and for a short time he would lay motionless, lungs filled with liquid. But then air. Just a tiny bit of air would touch his lunch and he would begin coughing, trying to dispel the liquid. But once done he would cease, cease movement and cease all sounds. He would wait to be directed, placed and shown what to do before he would join his sister in her suckling, oblivious to the fact he had been born into a world of blood.