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For a long time, Svajonė couldn’t speak. Her chest rose and fell with the rhythm of her pup’s tiny breaths, each one a fragile miracle she didn’t dare take for granted. The night had gone still around them, the river’s noise fading to a distant hum to her weary wars. The ache in her body pulsed steadily, the broken bone in her leg throbbed with every heartbeat and the wound along her flank still weeped blood faintly into the dirt, but it was a negligent amount of pain in comparison to what beating her heart had just taken.

She stared down at the pup pressed to her belly, at the slow flex of its paws and the weak, stubborn suckle as it latched onto a nipple. He’s strong, Svajonė whispered, voice hoarse and trembling with exhaustion. Her tail twitched faintly against the ground — not quite a wag, but close enough to bring happiness at the birth of her child.

She leaned forward, brushing her muzzle against the pup’s damp fur, breathing in that sharp, new scent of milk and life. It warmed something good in her heart to feel and smell the life clinging to her son.

However, no matter how tired she was, her pain was not over. A tremor ran through her leg, sharp enough to make her wince and the world swam briefly at the edges of her vision. We… we should bind it, she murmured after a moment, forcing herself to focus through the pain. My leg—before it swells any worse.

Her eyes dropped to the mangled limb. The fur was clumped with mud and blood, and she could see where the bone bulged faintly beneath the skin. If we can find a branch, she rasped, and some reeds or vines… it’ll hold through the night. We can wash it clean when it’s safe to move.

She gave a small, tired laugh that sounded more like a sigh. Gods, listen to me. Still giving orders when I can’t even stand. She huffed before turning to Vidarr, I'll need you to bind it for me.

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