The wane light of the Ishep moon cast it’s pale glow over the darkened world as cool breezes slithered among the streets of the City of Veils. Other than the sounds of soft rushes of air, the constant thrum of the churning river winding through the core of the canyon below, and the chirruping of desert cicadas, the city was silently tranquil. All of the denizens of Alsira Thaenat had retired to their homes to sleep, to drink their troubles away in one of the public lodges, or had slunk away into the shadows to hatch their plots for the next day. All was calm, save for the echoing hammer-strikes of Ghelta’s booted feet on the dry stone streets as she sprinted towards the Leiggenskappf.

Every stride forward was a lunge from her long legs as she ran and each footfall was the slap of leather against the chilled rock. She moved with a purpose, pumping her arms at her sides, stretching them with each step, as if she were grasping through the air at her destination. Her breathing was heavy and the warm vapor rising from her open mouth rose in little clouds towards the star-filled night’s sky.

Despite the cool breezes that teased at her crimson hair and cooled the sweat over her body, she wore nothing more than her favorite tunic — a mass of tattered linen, more than any sort of body covering — and her leather shorts. The scabbard of her klaive was tied tightly to her thigh so as to not jostle as she ran. Her gaze was focused on the robust lodge ahead of her as she shut out all other awareness of the world as she ran. All that existed in her mind was the shadow of the Heroes’ Lodge with the flickering torchlight beaming from its windows and the sounds of music as well as shouts of the warriors erupting from within.

In a matter of moments, Ghelta managed to finish her run and shove open the wooden door to the Leiggenskappf, as she entered she let her boots slide across the straw-strewn wooden floor. Her eyes darted around the lodge, from the skaldt playing his lute while singing a tune from the artist’s alcove; to the roaring flames coming from the fireplace; then to a group of warrior’s flipping stools as they wrestled each other in the corner; and finally to the bent form of Ylethus looming over a table to stare at his horn of mead.

She didn’t let her feet slide any further as she pushed against the back of a drinking old warrior and tore across the floor to Ylethus. As she neared a muscled woman with a tankard in hand got up from her stool and blocked Ghelta’s path. Ghelta gave the woman a hard elbow to the ribs, causing her to almost lose her grip on her drink and slump slightly into the table. The woman belted out a retort of curses, but Ghelta returned the words with her upturned left arm and a slap of her right hand against the inside of her elbow — a gesture of equal viciousness. The woman belted out a hearty laugh and got back to her feet, easily forgetting the slight.

Ghelta pushed her legs hard and jumped over another table in front of her, sliding on her rump and guiding her momentum with her hands. Two haggard warriors looked up from their conversation to see her glide between them. Her feet impacted the floor on the other side and she continued to run the last few yards over to where Ylethus sat with his back towards her.

“It’s time!” Ghelta shot the words out between heavy breaths. Once she reached Ylethus she slapped her hands against his immense shoulders and used his back to stop her run. “Skartha is in labor. The pups are on their way.”

Ylethus turned his head and peeked over his shoulder at Ghelta who bent forward and placed her hands on her knees to catch her breath. One of his bushy eyebrows shot up for a moment and then he turned back to his horn of mead in silence. He lifted the horn to his lips and swallowed back the last dregs of his drink. He let the large horn fall away from his fingers and clatter to the table. He turned back, wiping some of his favorite drink from his beard. His eyes twinkled with light from a nearby torch.

“Well then, we don’t have a moment to waste.” He lifted himself from his wooden bench, which groaned in relief as he got to his feet. “She’s in the kennels?” He turned on his feet and placed one of his giant hands on Ghelta’s shoulder as she nodded up to him. The two of them began to walk for the door.

“Ho-ho!” A blonde-haired man holding a full and spilling tankard aloft in front of him pressed past two other warriors to near Ylethus. “You said one of your wolves is giving birth?” Ghelta looked over at the man who grabbed his long, braided beard with his free hand, lifting it up and over another warrior’s plate of food as the other passed by. He lifted his beard like a maiden would lift her skirts to avoid soiling them in mud near a stream.

“Yes, Amsthyn, are you interested?” Ghelta continued to walk with Ylethus but leaned back over the large warrior’s arm. She could see a smile on Amsthyn’s face as he nodded back.

“It was my wolf that knocked her up, I might as well be there to see the consequences.” Amsthyn laughed and raised up his tankard as he pushed past a fat warrior and a tall one with her hood drawn who was also pushing by. He spilled some of his ale onto his head and began to fuss with his immaculately cut hair. “Provided I can get past these fools, I’ll meet you at the kennels!” He elbowed the fat warrior in the gut and stopped in his tracks. The fat man stared up at him sternly for a moment as Amsthyn remained frozen, watching the other man’s reaction. The fat man erupted into laughter and Amsthyn did as well while giving the fat warrior a light slap on the chest.

Ghelta and Ylethus stepped out of the warm and hearty atmosphere of the Leiggenskappf and into the chill air of the city, outside. Ylethus kept his hand on her shoulder as they slowly walked from the door. Ghelta looked up to Ishep in the sky and gave a long and thought-filled sigh.

“She wasn’t well a few hours ago.” Ghelta slumped her shoulders slightly and began to gnaw at her bottom lip. “It must be a hard delivery. She crooned from her kennel and when I went to check on her, she snapped at me.”

“It’s probably just her instincts.” Ylethus moved his hand and clamped his meaty fingers around the back of Ghelta’s neck to comfort her. “I’ve seen several childbirths over my life, Ghelta. One that I was responsible for, several that the warriors under me wanted me to be present for, and one right on the field of battle.” He rolled his eyes at the last memory and quietly chuckled to himself. “Bringing life into this world is the same as taking a life from it; it’s a bloody, painful, and extremely scary process. She probably just wanted you to leave her be.”

“That’s hard to do.” Ghelta looked up to Ylethus as the continued to walk toward the kennels. Her ice-blue eyes shone full with the star-filled and moon-haunted light from the heavens above. “Just as you think of your warriors as your children, I see the wolves I take care of the same way. I can’t stand when they’re in pain or scared.”

“As you say, those wolves are like my warriors-” Ylethus pulled Ghelta close to his side and looked off to one of the jutting cliffs above. “You care for them, but they still have to handle their own lives. We use those wolves for hunts, just as I use my warriors for war, you have to trust that they know what is best for themselves. There are times when you have to cut the mother’s cord and let them fend for themselves.” He returned his gaze to Ghelta as she stared down at the ground. He shook her neck softly to get her to look up at him.

“I know.” She crossed her arms over her chest and ceased her gnawing on her bottom lip. “I just want her to be okay. She’s been mine since she was a pup. Birth is such a scary thing.” Her words became choppy as she got lost in her own head.

“Yes, and perhaps one day you will have to experience it.” Ylethus gave a sardonic laugh that was abruptly cut off by a punch from Ghelta in the side. “What? One more year and I’ll have to grant your Kollishi Thaulp to make you an adult. Surely you’ve had your eye on one of the boys in the city by now.”

“What’s this? Is Ghelta pregnant, too?” The loud and boisterous voice came from Amsthyn and he sprinted up behind them. He still held his tankard in one hand, with a drumstick of meat dangling between his fingers. With his free hand, he reached out to ruffle Ghelta’s crimson locks.

“Yes.” Ghelta shot a menacing glance over to Amsthyn as he caught pace beside her. “I’m with child, and it’s your’s, Amsthyn.” Her full lips spread into a savage grin that let the tips of her canine teeth peek out over her bottom lip. She shot her head to the other side to look up at Ylethus. “He took my innocence. Now I’ll be fat with his spawn in short order.”

Amsthyn’s face contorted with confusion as he nibbled on his drumstick. He looked down to Ghelta and then up to Ylethus. As he lowered his food from his face, he noticed the hulking warrior beside him fluidly pull one of his jhulken-blades from his back and level it over Ghelta’s head to point at his face.

“If this is correct, Amsthyn, you have a choice; your life or your manhood. Don’t worry, I’ll sever the balls quickly, but I might have to slowly hack off the rest.” Ylethus narrowed his eyes and lifted his upper lip into a snarl. He kept his blade leveled at Amsthyn’s face and only an inch from his nose. Both watched each other silently and cautiously for several moments.

“Hah!” Amsthyn broke eye contact first and took a long swig from his tankard. He eyed the drumstick in his hand and then looked over to Ghelta. He took her in from head to toe and then leaned back to look at her rump. “I couldn’t have. I wouldn’t.” He leaned forward and crouched slightly to look Ghelta in the face. “Look at her. I could hardly get it up. She’s too young for starters, and I like my women to have more curves. I wouldn’t be interested.” He shook his head vehemently and went back to nibbling on his drumstick. “-Even if I was in a drunken stupor and the gods had cleansed the world of everyone be her and I.” He gave a cruel laugh. “Sorry, little lady, but you can still keep dreaming.”

Ghelta turned her right foot out and swiveled her hips. With one quick motion, she lifted her left leg up high, bent her knee, and turned to kick the tankard and drumstick from Amsthyn’s hand. She kept her leg raised up with her foot higher than her head, using her leg to bar him from moving forward. Amsthyn looked despondently at the food as it hit the ground, then slumped his posture to sulk.

“Perfectly good meat and ale gone to waste.” He turned his head back to Ghelta. He slowly raised up his hand, placing a single index finger on the toe of Ghelta’s boot, then began to push her leg down. She let her foot drop back to the ground. “I was enjoying those.” He leaned in and scowled at Ghelta for a moment. As quickly as his mood went sour, it jumped back to playfulness as he hopped behind Ghelta and grabbed her by the head. He put her in a headlock beneath one of his arms and started to ruffle up her hair with his free hand.

Ylethus spun his blade in his hand and sheathed it as easily as he had freed it. He gave a snort and continued walking toward the kennels. He could trust his men, and although it was plain that he disliked Amsthyn’s joke, he also showed how much he enjoyed watching Ghelta squirm. The warriors beneath him knew that he would protect them all if he could, but they also knew the ferocity he would protect his adopted daughter. They called him the ‘Mother Bear’ when it came to Ghelta and they were right.

Ghelta and Amsthyn wrestled for a few moments and then easily caught up to Ylethus. They walked the rest of the way to the kennels in silence. Ylethus turned several times to look at Ghelta and each time he could see the mounting concern on her face as she looked back up to him. Amsthyn tried once more to bring levity to the walk by lightly slapping Ghelta on the back of the head, but it didn’t work.

A long and painful howl came from the large wooden building they were walking towards. As soon as sound began, Ghelta ripped herself away from Ylethus and Amsthyn to sprint head-long to the door. She pulled the door open with enough force that it might rip from its hinges and she ran into the darkness inside. Ylethus and Amsthyn looked at each other for a moment and followed after.

Ghelta pushed her way though several hallways and then stopped near the exposed back of the building. She stopped at a doorway and slowly placed her hand on it. She bit her lip again and took several heavy breaths. She looked up to see Ylethus and Amsthyn make their way to her.

“I know you’re concerned, but don’t coddle her. Most wolves want to be left alone with they give birth.” Ylethus began to trip over his own words as he placed one of his hands over Ghelta’s. His hand easily dwarfed hers that was pressed against the door. Her other hand was white-knuckled as she gripped the metal knob.

Ghelta held her stance for several moments, she looked up to Ylethus for some time and then darted her eyes over to Amsthyn. The blonde warrior returned her look with a shrug of his shoulders and a sheepish grin. She inhaled sharply and then turned the knob, pressing against the door slowly to enter the room.

The room beyond was dark save for some of Ishep’s light making its way in between the overhanging roof and the half-wall that served as the wolf pen. Cool breezes flowed over the half-walls and made the open gate at the far end of the room swing back and forth with a quiet creaking. Ghelta’s eyes darted across the straw-strewn ground to each corner before finally resting on a shadowed form curled up in the farthest recesses.

Ghelta slowly stepped into the kennel and lowered down into a crouch, she let her fingers trail on the ground and then slowly lifted her hands with palms held up as she neared the shadow. Her eyes adjusted to the dark and she could see Skartha laid out on a pile of straw. She reached out to the wolf and let her other hand touch the ground. She could feel wetness beneath her fingers and stopped.

As Ghelta looked at her fingers, she could see the dark blackness of blood in the dark. She looked down to see four small masses coated in glistening mucus among a huge pool of blood. The four bodies were each smaller than the size of Ghelta’s fist. She rummaged in the blood for a moment and then looked back to Ylethus who had entered the kennel behind her.

“I can’t find any remains of the sac and I can’t find the placenta.” She took a step closer to Skartha and placed a hand on the wolf’s flank. “I don’t know if she ate it already.” She leaned forward watching two extremely slow puffs of breath rise up from the wolf’s mouth and into the night’s air.

Ghelta lightly touched the wolf and then pressed one of her hands to Skartha’s chest. She could feel the wolf give only a single belabored breath. Her face furrowed in concern and then she pivoted on her toes to reach over to the four masses on the ground.

She seized up one of the bloody bodies and held it between her hands. The blood that coated the tiny little form had turned cold. She felt it in her fingers, waiting to feel a breath or heartbeat come from it. After several moments she raised the little body towards Skartha’s face. The wolf-mother stared at it for several moments and then turned her head away slowly. She let her head slump into some straw nearby and gave another long, wheezy breath.

“I think this one is stillborn.” Ghelta let one of her long legs pull out from her body and she moved along with it back to the small bodies strewn near the rump of the wolf. She still held the small lump in her hands and gently set it down in some straw.

She snatched up another body and felt it in her fingers. The body was cold and lifeless. She tried to massage the pup’s chest and she raised it up to her face. After several moments she gave a short and sad sigh and placed the little body next to the other. In short order, she made her way through all of the pups.

“None of them are breathing. I can’t feel a heartbeat from any of them.” Ghelta began to choke on her words and feel tears filling up her eyes. She looked back to Ylethus pleadingly. “I don’t understand, how could all of them be stillborn?”

Ghelta watched as Amsthyn stepped from behind Ylethus and lowered himself into a crouch next to her. He reached out a hand toward Skartha and stopped himself to look back to Ghelta for permission. She nodded and he began to feel the wolf’s chest and around her neck. He held his hands for several moments and then let two of his fingers fall into the blood pool near the flank of the wolf.

“The birth was complicated, somehow.” Amsthyn choked on his words as well. He let his eyes fall to the ground. “Something was wrong and she’s bleeding out. I don’t think she has much longer.” He lifted his eyes to Ghelta and reached out to grab her hand. “You need to be here with her and say your goodbyes. Olthenna will be upon her soon.”

Ghelta clenched her fingers around Amsthyn’s hand and looked at him with tear-filled eyes. She could see the same tears in his eyes as well. He took two hopping steps backward and pulled on her arm with his to guide her to the wolf. Ghelta followed and felt Amsthyn’s grip release as he placed her hand on Skartha’s neck.

“I’m so sorry.” Amsthyn whispered in Ghelta’s ear and sniffed back some moisture. “It’s my fault because it was my wolf-”

“No.” Ghelta looked back to Amsthyn and shook her head. She leaned forward and clutched Skartha around her chest. “Don’t you apologize for anything.” She turned and began to run her fingers through the blood-matted fur of her pet. “You got to be a mother, Skartha. Sadly, Tolesh didn’t have any souls to spare for your pups.” She began to openly sob as she ran her hand over the wolf’s neck.

Ghelta laid her head on Skartha’s chest and held her tightly. She could hear the slow and ponderous breaths coming from the wolf. She could hear the space between heartbeats grow with each breath. Skartha’s body was growing colder by the moment as her life’s blood was pooling beneath her. The wolf’s eyes looked up at her and then she shifted slightly to place her muzzle into Ghelta’s chest.

The moments stretched on as Ghelta continued to sob over her dying wolf. The breaths shortened and the heartbeats fell away into silence. Ghelta continued to run her fingers over Skartha’s fur.

“You’ll be with Olthenna. She’ll take good care of you. When my time is done here, I’ll look for you in the Lands of Shadow.” Ghelta lifted Skartha’s muzzle up in her hand. She could see the wolf’s eyes close after she spoke her words. The wolf gave one last seizure of life as her leg lifted and dropped twice, then she was gone.

Ghelta held her close for several more moments and then turned to look back at Ylethus. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she could see the glow of the moon on the moisture of her face. She looked to Ylethus and then to Amsthyn who stood with his head in his hands.

“I’ll be okay. Please-” She felt her voice give way. “I just need some time alone.”

Amsthyn let his hands drop and looked at Ghelta. He gave a nod and turned to place a hand on Ylethus’ arm. Ylethus looked from Ghelta to the warrior beside him and back. Ylethus nodded and left with Amsthyn behind him. The kennel door swung open and closed with a creak and then a bang. With the two warriors gone, the silence in the kennels began to linger and feel haunted.

Ghelta ran her hands through Skartha’s fur once more and laid the wolf’s head down on some straw. She leaned back and allowed herself to sit in the pool of blood. She reached over to snatch up the four little bodies nearby in a desperate last check to see if they were alive. She felt each one and knew they were just as dead as Skartha was now.

She held the little bodies in her lap as she looked up to Ishep in the sky. She wanted to be angry at what had happened. She wanted to pull that moon from the sky and set it on fire. She wanted to make someone or something pay for the lives that were taken away this night. Sadly, there was nothing she could do and there was no one to blame.

This wasn’t a situation that she was used to as someone who was training to become a warrior. None of her skills with weapons could bring back what was dead. There was no foe to vanquish save for Olthenna, the goddess of death, but Ghelta was hardly a match for her. She desperately wanted to be mad at something, but she couldn’t be mad at all. The only thing inside of her was the hollow feeling of sorrow and helplessness that she had grown to hate.

She lifted up and examined each of the pups in her lap and then set their little bodies next to Skartha’s. Each one was beautiful in their own way. Beneath the blood and the mucus, they had down-like fur in completely unique patterns. Each of their little bodies were curled into little balls. Each had tiny little faces, tiny little legs, tiny little tails, and tiny little ears. They seemed complete in every way save for the spark of life.

When the last was placed down, Ghelta lowered her face into her blood-coated hands and began to quietly cry. More than the loss of her companion and her pups, she felt a strange kinship to this situation. There was something that pulled at and resounded with her spirit. She began to wonder if it was her own origins in this world that was similar. Ylethus had told her that her mother had died when she was still an infant. She had no memories of her that she could recall. The feeling of motherhood was something alien to her.

As she began to unpack the thoughts in her head and feel the tears running down her cheeks once more, she was pulled away from her sorrow by a strange sound. She stopped and lifted her head for a moment and perked up her ears. Immediately another muffled and barely audible noise came from the kennel around her. The noise sounded like a single breath or the quiet mewling of some animal.

Ghelta looked ahead and saw Skartha’s tail move slightly and one of her legs begin to quiver. Joy and confusion shot through her mind like lightning bolts as she looked over at Skartha’s face. She didn’t know how, but maybe Olthenna had forgotten to take her soul away. Maybe Skartha was still alive.

She grabbed the wolf’s face and ran her fingers over her ear. She pressed her head against the wolf’s chest but couldn’t hear anything. The body was cold and lifeless, but as she looked back to the wolf’s flank she could see another quiver of life. A moment more and another quiet sound bubbled up from the body.

Ghelta pulled away and looked at the wolf’s rump, lifting up the tail and then the leg. She watched carefully as she could see something dark pressing it’s way out of Skartha’s nether regions. One more mewling bubbled up and Ghelta jumped. She could see the lump squirming around trying to make its way free from the body. Ghelta pressed on the wolf’s abdomen and began to massage the lump free.

After some squeezing and fury, the little mass popped free and began to roll down a pile of straw to Ghelta’s foot. She watched in amazement as the little thing wobbled for a moment and then raised its tiny little head. She let curses and expletives of amazement roll of her tongue as she carefully lifted up the little body in her hands.

One more mewling breath came from the pup as she lifted it up to examine it. She could see the blood-covered, blind eyes on its face as sit moved its neck back and forth. Tiny little paws stretched out and grasped at her fingers. She knew it was alive and it was responding to her touch. Tears overflowed once more as she cupped the little creature between her hands. Her eyes darted from it to the corners of the room, searching for something that she couldn’t find.

“You stay right here and I’ll find you a blanket or something.” She knew that newborn pups were blind and deaf, but she was so happy that it was alive that she didn’t care. She laid the pup down near the foot of Skartha and got up to her feet. She looked down at the pup and then around the kennel once more. “Where in Gehemol did I put that blanket?”

Ghelta reached into the straw in the corners of the kennel to search for the blanket she sought. Wherever she checked, there was nothing to be found. She began to grow frantic and tempestuous, taking some frustration out by kicking the gate nearby. She knew she had laid some blankets in here before she ran to fetch Ylethus. There was no way that they could have vanished in such a short period of time.

She looked up to the sky above and clenched her fists in rage. She gave one more temperamental kick to the kennel wall nearby where she stood and then heard the sound of cloth falling into the straw near her feet. She looked over at it and saw a blanket had fallen down. She looked up and noticed two other blankets that she had draped over the kennel wall. Immediately she felt warmth fill her cheeks and a rush of calm spread through her body.

“I’m a bloody idiot, aren’t I?” She snatched up the blanket and walked back across the kennel to the body of Skartha. She sat back down in the blood pool and draped the blanket over her arm. She looked to where she had dropped the pup, but the little wolf was no longer there.

She rummaged in the straw nearby but couldn’t find the pup. She leaned back and then heard a tiny sucking sound coming from Skartha’s body. She looked over and saw the pup nuzzling up to the dead wolf’s utter and suckling upon the nearest teat.

“Oh shit.” Ghelta watched as the pup hungrily pawed and nuzzled at the Skartha’s body while suckling. The realization tore through her mind that beyond what cold and dead nourishment her old companion had in her corpse, there was no milk that the pup would need. Her mind began to wheel and churn with ideas as she continued to watch the pup drink what was left.

With a click, she realized that she could get some milk from the brodenskappf. She loathed the thought of having to return to that place, but it was nearby and they would have some sort of nourishment for the pup. She knew from her childhood that the Broden-mother and several of the Broden-nurses would squeeze some of their extra productions and keep it in cold canisters for some of the infants. The thought of women milking themselves and collecting it made Ghelta wince, but it was the only place she knew of that would have what this pup needed.

Ghelta looked at Skartha’s face once more and then leaned in over the pup to press her hands upon the dead wolf’s utter. She shook her head at the thought but steeled her nerves knowing what she must do to keep this fragile, little life going. She lowered her face to one of Skartha’s teats and began to suckle on it while massaging the utter. Her mouth soon filled up with cold milk. She wanted to spit it out, but she kept going and using her tongue and throat to keep the milk in her mouth.

Once she had enough, she choked for a moment but managed to keep it all in her mouth. She pulled away, looking once more at Skartha’s face and then got to her feet. She didn’t want to have to pull the poor pup away, but she couldn’t leave it here while she went to retrieve the milk from the brodenskappf.

She leaned in to the pup and lifted her pinky finger over the pup’s nose. She pressed her face to her palm and let a bit of the milk in her mouth dribble over her lip and down her hand to her finger. She nuzzled the pup once and the pup pulled away from Skartha’s teat to suckle on her finger. After this, she snatched the little creature up in her hands and wrapped it in a blanket with her free hand.

She was able to rub some of the blood and grime away from the pup and then roll it up in the blanket. She kept her finger in the pup’s mouth, feeling tiny lips tugging at her flesh. She placed the rolled up wolf down the front of her shirt between her breasts. She worried it might slip, so with her free hand she unbuckled the lower belt from her scabbard — that secured it to her leg — and re-buckled it around her chest.

With a shake of her body as she hopped from heel-to-toe, she could see that the pup was secure in its little nest against her body. She continued to dribble small amounts of milk from her mouth, letting it gather in drops around her pinky to feed the hungry wolf. She gave a long sigh of relief and left the kennel.

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