[ P ] Revival

Snowflakes drifted through the air on a bitterly cold winter’s day. A gust from the nearby mountains ruffled Willow’s tri-color fur, causing a shiver to run up her spine. The winter seemed more brutal than the ones she had experienced previously. Willow had spent weeks hidden away in the dwelling of Anteros and Nora, scarcely eating, too distraught to interact with another living soul – including Rowan, when the days were particularly difficult. But with time, it was easier to continue on with life. She could almost pretend things were normal, how they used to be, before…

The sweltering summer had faded into an autumn filled with violence and loss. Now, things were different, though Willow was not entirely sure how said difference impacted her directly, for she followed no kings and no creed but her own values, her own loyalties. She had spent the weeks traveling about the northern country, visiting chosen family with Rowan in tow. The fall had also seen multiple litters born into the Highlands, and despite her grief, Willow had been intentional about offering her assistance to soon-to-be mothers.

Each new litter had been conceived out of season, born to stunned mothers who had not expected to become one because of a night of passion. Sometimes, the father of the pups was present. More often, however, they were not, leaving frightened females alone in a time of unprecedented need. Willow was happy and enthusiastic to play her part as midwife, to hear the chirps of newborns and see the happiness of new mothers. After the onslaught of war, all of the death and destruction that had marred the last seasons, it gave Willow joy to help welcome these new lives into their world. After darkness, there must come light, and each new little life proved this again to Willow.

It was early morning today when she heard the call for help. This time, young Rowan had accompanied her mother to assist in the delivery. Willow still remembered the first birth she had attended with her mother, which had nearly ended in her dear friend Clover’s death. Thankfully, this birth had been far less dramatic. Though the anguished cries of the laboring she-wolf had resounded through the forest, she had done splendidly, and soon, the pained screams faded into the gentle cooing of newborns. Three lovely pups arrived healthy, and their mama was doing well. Once Willow was confident that the new family was safe and secure, she nodded silently for Rowan to follow her.

After exhaling a deep sigh of relief, grass green eyes shifted toward her daughter to gauge how she was faring after the intensity of seeing new lives born. She cast Rowan a proud smile, pleased that she had some interest in learning the art of healing, just like her mother and her grandmother Nephele before her. ”Hard to believe sometimes that we all start out just like that, isn’t it? So helpless and tiny and perfect.” It seemed like only yesterday that Rowan had arrived, and now she was growing into a lovely young wolfess. ”Of course, the cutest pup that was ever born is right here,” she teased, leaning over to nuzzle her daughter’s cheek.



@Rowan

art and code by Yahtzee-Penguiduck

Rowan "Hard to believe sometimes that we all start out just like that, isn’t it? So helpless and tiny and perfect." Her mother's voice chimed clearly against the silence that surrounded them, the contrast between the warmth of the whelping room and where they now stood causing a shiver to run down her spine. It was hard to believe, the reality of how life was created far more traumatic - bloody - than she could ever imagine despite how Rowan hung onto her every word about what to expect. Yet, here she was, unable to formulate a coherent thought as she quietly processed what she'd seen. The young girl couldn't describe the feeling in so many words. She wasn't disgusted, it wasn't ugly, but it looked and sounded painful. Maybe that's why it was so alarming. Was all birth like that? It had to have been considering the processes her mother had described to her. And yet, that look of happiness on the new mother's face as she was first introduced to her children seem to lessen the agony that drew along the ridges on her brow. The pain was worth it? "Yeah," she managed to vocalize, trailing off until she felt the warmth of a breath on her cheek, instinctively leaning into the gesture with a grin. Sights of crystal peered up to her mother's face, gauging something she couldn't quite place before she began to speak. "Did it hurt? For you, I mean." From the various discussions she had, being born 'out of season' was something fairly recent, causing more distress at the shock and turmoil for those that weren't ready. Rowan was one of those surprises the year had created . @Willow

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Rowan was unusually quiet as they walked, and Willow peered down at the child again to meet her daughter’s gaze, peridot sights meeting pale azure. Had it been too much for such a young girl to see? But before she could inquire, Rowan had a question of her own: "Did it hurt? For you, I mean."


The inquiry inspired a thoughtful hm as Willow considered how to respond without causing undue distress. Willow was not one to mislead her daughter, had always been open and honest in sating childhood curiosity. And there was no sugarcoating it. Her pace slowed as she regarded her daughter with a smile. She had grown so much already, but still had a long way to go, more life to live and experiences to have.


”Well, yes, it hurts for every new mother, I’m afraid. I suppose that’s the burden we must bear for the next generation to exist. But in the end, having you here is well worth a few hours of suffering,” she offered with a proud grin. It was difficult to imagine a more perfect pup than the one she had been gifted so unexpectedly. ”I was grateful when you were the only one,” she remarked candidly, an airy laugh punctuating her words. ”And that your other parent is not a huge beast.” Her smile faltered at the mention of Gallagher, but Willow couldn’t allow any sadness in, for fear that it would overwhelm her again. Another connection frayed…


Unknowingly, her pace had slowed to a crawl. The snow crunched beneath her dainty paws as she moved. ”You were a surprise, but the good kind. Just like the pups you just saw. The best kind of surprise,” she reiterated. ”Pups were only born in the spring before, but now – who knows what changed? Maybe there was a magic spell we were all part of, but didn’t know it?” With a playful wink, she concluded: ”I guess that means you’re part magic!”



@Rowan

art and code by Yahtzee-Penguiduck

Rowan Her mother had always been good at answering any questions she had, supportive of whatever her mind drifted to in the early months of her development and it had never changed. The thoughtful hum and the steady pause as she considered her words before speaking. It was comfortable, this silence between question and answer and she felt herself easing despite the truth. According to her it was an equivalent to suffering but in that they were bringing forth the new generation. It made sense theoretically, though she would imagine she would understand when she had - she was older. Rowan noted the soft hints of a change when Maor was mentioned, gentle eyes keeping to themselves so as to not show she had seen. Maor was a very touchy subject, one that she had gathered was at least one cause of her mother's turmoil in those days she barely could find the strength to speak. She wasn't sure what happened between them, wasn't sure if she would ever see them again, but it was still too fresh a pain to broach. The thought of nature's sudden change being a part of a magic spell caused her to giggle, the notion of it more interesting than anything as she made effort to settle her thoughts. Magic? What kind'a magic you think? Do you think it's the kind to make wishes?" @Willow

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Rowan’s silence was quite different from how her mother had been when she was still a child: a talkative, curious, nosy little creature who got herself into more trouble than she cared to consider. Sometimes, Willow considered, she was lucky to still be alive after a few close calls in her younger days. Certainly, this was a trait Rowan hadn’t inherited from Willow. Rowan didn’t ask questions. In fact, she didn’t say a word when Willow mentioned the child’s second parent, for which she was grateful. The guilt was still too raw. She had hurt Gallagher terribly, and the sting of it was instantaneous when her mind slipped to what was, and what might have been. Was it shame that kept her from broaching the subject? She shook her head to dismiss the thoughts for now.

Rowan’s giggle made her heart feel full. “Magic? What kind'a magic you think? Do you think it's the kind to make wishes?" The mother she-wolf’s expression became very serious as she considered this question. After a few seconds, her features lit up as a revelation surfaced in her imagination. She lowered her head to brush her cheek against Rowan’s fluffy face. ”Well, I happen to know that there is one magical flower that normally grows here. The flower grows up yellow, but then it changes into something else that looks like a tiny white cloud. And when you blow on that cloud, you get to make a wish!” Verdant sights scanned their surroundings. There was still a blanket of snow on the ground, but that hadn’t stopped a handful of intrepid sprouts to begin growing. In the spring, this magical flower would be in abundance, but today, Willow hoped she could find at least one dandelion for her daughter.

Luck was on her side today, for she saw dandelions beginning to grow. There were several already in bloom, but only a solitary one that was ready, with a puffy white ball nearly blending in with the snow. ”A-ha! There’s one.” Willow trotted to where it was growing, but didn’t pick it, for fear of wasting any wishes. She looked back to Rowan with a big smile. ”See this? When you blow on it, you close your eyes and make a wish, and the cloud flies away and into the air. What will you wish for today, honeybee?”



@Rowan

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