There was very little that could draw Olive from her birthing den, nonetheless Frostfang Vale itself—
but her tiny, fragile daughters were sleeping, being watched over by the Titan himself. He was tireless in her pursuit of excellence for his family, but even a work-horse such as he deserved to rest alongside the tiny pile of similarly snoozing pups. Olive had done nothing but sleep, and though she loved and reveled in the opportunity to steep in such slowness, it felt so contrary to nearly everything she was before. Olive was nothing close to a homebody, and being so closely tied to a den was stifling; even if the den was filled with the most precious, radiant treasures life could offer.
It was a complicated feeling.
When she had been relieved from child-rearing duties for the moment, Olive surfaced from the nursery and blinked at the sun as if it were a long-lost friend. She engaged in a brief stretch, pointing her toes and reaching out each leg in turn. She ventured forward, not certain where she was headed as her only intention was to find movement and take deep, belly-full breath of the fresh, late-summer air. It all smelled of sun and grass, and the greyscale mother found herself following her nose to the border; she crested the entrance of the vale and ventured just beyond, forced to travel slow and gingerly as her convalescent body would allow.
Soon, she would have to turn around and return to her brood. It was never long before one of them began to squall from hunger, and what a beautiful curse it was that only she had the ability to feed them.
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