It was the middle of the night. The moon was high and full, resting in the dark night sky and surrounded by twinkling stars. The wind was still and the world was quiet, a beautiful night if one wanted to lay out. A beautiful night for children to be born.
The wolfdog woke up to nothing but pain. Contractions. It felt like it was burning like someone was ripping her apart from the insides. Her icy eyes shot open, and she let out a wail of pain. If someone told her giving birth would be so painful and hard, she would have maybe had second thoughts about getting pregnant. She closed her eyes, letting out small whimpers and wails of pain in hopes that someone would here her.
Before she knew it, Twisted would lay in her den with three bundled up pups. She held them tightly to her stomach, her nose running over them and licking them as if she was afraid to let them get too far away from her. Was this what being a mother was like? Being afraid to lose the very small bundles that came out of your body? Tears ran down her cheeks, though she was unsure if it was from the lingering pain or the beauty of her children.
What was this? The first baby that had come out of her body was not a wolf, but a fox. What a peculiar thing, she thought, but she loved the child just the same. She was sure that perhaps this child had some sort of special ability that perhaps Twisted lacked. "You," She says, rubbing her little black nose along the champagne colored fox. "you'll be Pennyroyale. My brave little fox, I love you more than you'll ever know." She whispers to the little one before her eyes glance to the second one to be born.
Despite her pure black coat, this second child was pale in color with golden flecks of fur. Gold, perfect for her little royal children. She nuzzles the second pup, leaning close and whispering, "And you'll be Reagan, my little softie," She says with a smile on her face, running her tongue between Reagan's ears.
And then, the last one. Such a delicate little one with such pale fur, she was afraid if she licked them too hard, she would break them. She nuzzles the last one softly, saying, "Soon, little one. Your father will name you." She had to leave someone for Cory, after all.
Her tail wraps around them, keeping them warm and expecting them to feed. She looks out of her den, the moonlight just barely creeping in.
"Someone get Cory!"