hold my hand, it's a long way down to the bottom of the river
Mother had warned her what it would feel like, so when she felt the muscle in her stomach rebelling against her, she knew it was time. There had been no words spoken aloud as she pressed her trembling pink mouth against Offspring’s dark neck, but he had understood. Slowly, slowly they made their way to a small cave carved out of stone and ice in the base of the mountain and disappeared inside. The tundra king had sealed the mouth of the cave with a thick wall of ice that reminded her much of the wall that protected the kingdom. It was clear enough to let light through so that they weren’t buried in the dark, but thick so that the shapes through it appeared vague and distorted. She noticed too that it didn’t quite reach the roof of the cave in one small place, ventilation so that they wouldn’t choke on too much stale air.
Time passed slowly as discomfort turned to pain and pain turned into gritted teeth and quiet moans with her face buried stiffly against Offspring’s dark shoulder. They stood together like that; her mouth on his skin, his neck cradled over her back, filling the small cave with the heat from their bodies until at last the contractions came closer together and she urged him away. It wasn’t as though he could actually go anywhere, or that she even would have wanted him to, but she couldn’t help wanting some small amount of privacy as her legs buckled beneath her and she lay stretched out and rigid, breathing raggedly on the ground. She had picked a spot by the mouth of the cave where rain and snowmelt in the warmer months had carried in dirt and sparse, brown plant - the latter of which was dead and brittle and flattened by many hooves – and where Offspring had pulled away the frost so that it wasn’t as cold as stone.
It happened more quickly than she would have thought it might, or perhaps she had just lost track of time amidst breathless groans and muscles crushed so tight she thought her bones must bend pliant and apologetic beneath them. But then suddenly she is no longer alone in the mouth of the cave and as she rises exhaustedly to turn and see her child for the first time after loving him for so many long months. The moment her eyes alight on him she is certain her heart will evaporate within her chest for the way it burns so fiercely. She is a symphony of low nickering, sounds both possessive and affectionate as she draws her tongue across the dampness of his dark body to clean and dry him. He is a perfect combination of them, she realizes, seeing the deep black of Offspring on his body and her own stark white markings spilled like fresh snow across his legs and face and belly. He is more perfect than she ever could have imagined and he is hers, he is theirs.
She nickers again, a low humming sound that tickles her chest, and presses gentle lips to that impossibly small face. They trace the curve of a delicate jaw, the arch of a neck so small and dark, trailing kisses all the while. When she turns back to his face, to fall into those wide, beautiful eyes, dark and brown and bottomless like her own, she cannot help but to cradle his small head against hers. “Argo.” She breathes at last, and her breath is warm and sweet where it settles against the marbled white and black of his damp, perfect skin. “You are my everything.”
Isle
