She knew the time had come, and it was as if her body had chosen the stormy evening to bring the cubs within her into the world. She had found a small cave among some rocks at the edge of the garden- that smelled abandoned, and had made it her own. Their own-- it was big enough for both of them, Meira and Folke with just enough room for the cubs as well. Shelter from the weather, from storms, and to remain dry.

The first of the Summer storms, rumbled off in the distance, and echoed around the fields. She was awake, not because of the storm but because of the pains deep within her. It was time.

The birth happened quickly, far more quickly than the first time- her body just falling into an instinctual role. Once the cubs were into the world, she set to grooming them. Two females, and two males. An evenly split litter, and she wondered in silence as she groomed them what would become of their lives. As children of Meira and Folke they'd be care-free, and cared for... but what about the lives beyond their chosen monikers?

A soft chuff left her, to call @András to let him know that the children were here, and he was welcome to come and meet them.

ART BY NAME KIM, CODE BY LARS

What at first had been feared turned into excitement, to love. It was easier living as Folke; as the days drew on and their disguises had begun to permanently stain their fur, and they'd no longer needed to seclude themselves in the most solitary of Amaryllis' wilds, his fears began to lessen. Of course, he'd never made a good father—he'd never gotten to see his first litter past their first year, and had left his second behind in the wake of his own quest for revenge. But now that he had shed his skin and his Rike name, he felt as if he could start over, however undeserving he was of it.

He'd been out hunting before the storm would flush him out. The heavy smell of petrichor in the air grew electrifying as the roar of dark clouds swept over the distant horizon, animals scattering from their grazing and heading to the cover of trees of the safety of their burrows. In the fray he'd managed to catch a rabbit or two, having assumed the burden of not only taking over Meira's hunting, but understandably feeding her more than she used to. Compared to his life before, however, this was bliss; even the dark silhouette and the shadow cast by the Illyrian mountains seemed far off in the distance. Untouchable, unreachable.

He was already returning when he heard her soft calls. He'd known the cubs were coming soon, but with both parents long well past the nervous jitters of their first litters, the second would understandably arrive faster. His paws quickly hastened, making his way into the den and nearly forgetting about the prey he had gotten until it dropped at his feet just within the entrance. Nestled at her belly were four healthy, hungry cubs, each adorning similarities between both parents yet unique in their own ways. A broad smile unfurled across his lips, rushing forward, brushing his head against Meira's own. They're perfect, he remarks with a low purr, pulling back so that he could study her, search for any signs of pain, of regret. How are you feeling?

---

@Ghyslaine

Art by Raph, table by cala

This birthing had gone far easier- had not clawed away at her strength and will to live. She, of course, was exhausted, but Meira was happy and without the burden of a pride to tend too. Meira just had Folke and these cubs- and they were perfect. As @András approaches, his head pressing against her own, she feels the rumbling purr work through her and when he asks how she is feeling she turns her head to gaze at the cubs with a wide-eyed adoration struck expression. She hums softly, her tail moving to gently sweep over the cubs that it could reach.

"They are perfect." She remembers the haze of love when she had looked at her first cubs, and there is a slight pang of longing that they could be here to meet their siblings now... but life had not been kind, and well she wasn't going to dwell on that.

"I am well. And yourself?" Any doubts, any regrets about what they had done? What they had brought into the world, as Folke and Meira? She aimed to look at him now, to study his orange gaze seriously- though a small trace of a smile would remain on her lips- the euphoria too much to let fall away to seriousness entirely.

"Four cubs. Two females, two males." She breathed, knowing that they needed to be named yet- that she and András would have to come up with names capable of capturing the beauty of the life before them.

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It were a mercy, in some ways, that they had both been through this before. It kept things simple, it kept it easy. It allowed them to enjoy the bliss of their cubs without the worries of what came next. Four perfect little beings nestled against her pale belly, strong and determined to build their strength. What strange world they would encounter beyond the confines of their den, Folke wondered; but for now, their world extended no further than their little hollow, and it was a peaceful, happy place. It had taken him far too long to come around to the idea of them, but the longer they'd remained unbothered in the Amaryllisian wilds, the more confident he grew that they could make it.

I couldn't be happier, he crooned, his lips curving into a pleasant grin. Strange how easy it was to be so carefree, to enjoy the small things of the world around him, when he did not have the heavy weight of responsibility, the ancestral burden that demanded blood and duty. And as she swept her gaze over the cubs, each one blissfully unique and yet so like their parents, András wondered indeed what they would name them. Had he not shed his past in favor of this novel, hidden identity, he'd known exactly what he would name them. But here, now, he would wrench them from that shadow as far as he could.

His eyes swept over the first of the boys, a brown coat tinged with hues of soft soot and cream. Sage, he said, his gaze then lifting, searching Meira's face for approval. Then, toward the other boy, dark and dusky just as Mithril was, he continued: Peregrine.

---

@Ghyslaine

Art by Raph, table by cala

Thankful, that the birthing had been easy. Ghyslaine now, felt only the normal exhaustion that followed. No strange bleeding, no strange pains. She was fine, just very very tired. However, Folke was a welcome sight, as were the cubs nursing steadily. When he spoke, she felt a rush of pleasure course through her, that he was pleased- that this hadn't been too much. They hadn't planned for a litter, and yet... when it happened...

Sage.... Peregrine

Names slipped easily from his lips and her tender smile grew, as she nodded thoughtfully- loving the simple names. "Maeve..." She pointed at one, the name sliding from her tongue, easily. "Frosé" Something a bit more fancy for her lighter colors the other female, and yet the name slipped so easily from her- the frosty cub needed that name. Maeve... the name she had mulled in her mind, but none of her other daughters had fit the picture in her mind quite like this one.

"They are perfect." She said simply. "And... we are outnumbered." She added with a good humored chuckle, glancing to Folke.

@András

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