Ma-Ma-Ma-Ma Ma Baker

Time stretched and contracted in a haze of agony and determination. Each wave of pain seemed to last an eternity, yet Absinth remained steadfast, her resolve unbroken. Her breath came in ragged gasps, sweat mingling with the glistening sheen of her fur. As the night deepened, the moon's light remained bright and constant, until the moment finally arrived.

With a screaming snarl, Absinth felt the first pup slip into the world. She collapsed momentarily, her body trembling from the exertion, but her eyes, filled with fierce ambition and relief, focused on the tiny whelp before her. It was a mostly red boy, touched with patches of ivory, a perfect blend of herself and Aresenn. The pup wriggled, its small cries filling the den with a new, precious sound. Absinth nudged it closer, licking it clean with tender care.

The respite was brief. Another contraction seized her, and she bore down once more, her body a vessel of life and struggle. The second pup followed soon after, another little bundle of red and black, its small form a near mirror of the first, but a girl. Both carried her wing-like markings upon their tiny shoulders, which brought a grin to her inky lips as she worked. She repeated the ritual, cleaning and comforting the newborn.

A third pup came into the world with more ease than the first two, as if it too was eager to join the others. This one, unlike its siblings, bore a frame of split heritage. Russet and cream, and albino, a trait that brought about her father’s image in her mind. But she paid it no mind, continuing her care of the babe. Absinth gathered the three tiny whelps close, their combined warmth so small and strange to her weary body. But she knew in her gut she was not done yet. There were more to come, this was just a small reprieve.

She looked at Aresenn, a tiredness to her features, but eyes the same stubborn determination. “Not finished. You lucky bastard, I wish you had to share the pain. Fucker.” Her voice was a low growl, mind muddled by her labors.

wormwood