nothing's only words; birthing

[Eira]

It’s time.

She’s been growing ever more excited for this child as the winter months have rushed by. She and Weir have built such a lovely little family for themselves, first in the Dale, then in the Tundra, and now finally in Tephra, and she is over the moon to add yet another little one to their growing band.

When the labour pains first hit she quickly sequesters herself away in a quiet little hollow at the base of the mountain, and in what seems like no time at all, their eighth child enters the world.

Well used to the whole process, Eira is quick to her feet, and she moves to the small bundle to begin cleaning off the mess of birth. It’s a boy (their third!), with a wonderful red roan coat that matches his father’s. She nudges the boy, trying to encourage him to stand, then raises her dark head to look about for Weir.

She cannot see him, but she has no doubt that he is somewhere close by and lets out a low call. She knows he will also be eager to welcome their newest into the world.

Her attention returns to the boy, and she nudges him again. After all that stressful work of being born, she has no doubt that he will be hungry! “Up on your feet sweetie!” She smiles down at him, her heart so full of love and happiness. “How about we call you … Fox.” She has no idea why the name has popped in her head, but with his ruddy red coat, it just seems so fitting.

EIRA

nothing's only words, that's how hearts get hurt

Ugh this is terrible, but yay Fox is born!

@[insane]

[Fox]

My heart saw the things that my eyes couldn't see

At first, there is only darkness and the soft whoosh and thump of his surroundings. A steady rhythm that lulls him through his months until he is large and far too cramped in the rather small confines of his mother’s belly (he hears her voice sometimes, soft and sweet and familiar). But then the day comes that his world is turned upside down. Quite literally, in some respects.

The world that he is expelled into his painfully bright, but the first breath he draws into freshly cleared lungs is sweet and fine, redolent with the green smells of spring (in the coming years, he would come to relish the scent of crisp snow and fresh, winter air far more than the milder embrace of spring, but he is too new yet to know of such things).

He shudders, his fine hairs prickling and standing as they begin to dry after his mother’s careful ministrations. He blinks his eyes slowly as the world comes into hazy focus. First his mother’s lovely features, followed by the budding greens and browns of their home. The color of his eyes are still murky from birth, but it is clear they will be brown. A rich, nutty color, the perfect combination of his parents.

”Mama?” He tries word out for the first time. It feels thick and foreign upon his tongue, but then, for the first time, it’s hard to imagine that it wouldn’t. His stomach grumbles a bit then, telling him in no uncertain terms that he must rise and find food. Milk. His mother. It’s strange to know this, but somehow, his body knows what his brain does not.

His first few attempts at rising are unsuccessful, and, in all honestly, probably quite hilarious to any onlooker. When he finally does gain his feet, he stands there on shaky limbs, frowning at the ground as though it had somehow betrayed him. A few stumbling steps take him to his mother, where, much to his immense relief, he finds quite a solid leg to lean on and plenty of fresh milk to sate his appetite.

Replete, he collapses back to the ground in an altogether ungainly fashion. He doesn’t seem to notice though, instead offering his mother a sweet little grin. ”I love you, mama.” He had heard the words uttered a time or two from inside his mother’s belly, and they sounded so nice he couldn’t resist repeating them to her in his thick, barely intelligible new foal voice.

Fox

Ahhhh! I'm so excited!