Speak your mind, even if your voice shakes.
3-3-3 OC

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Speech Emotional Actions Thoughts

Thunder rolled across the mountains like an avalanche.

Rain battered the cliffs outside Bao's den, striking stone with enough force to sound like claws scraping against the earth itself. Wind howled through the narrow entrance, carrying the scent of wet pine, distant lightning, and cold rock.

The storm had arrived with the evening. The labor had begun shortly after.

Hours later, Bao was beginning to think she might die here. Not truly, perhaps. But it felt close enough.

Another contraction tore through her body.

She bit down on a cry before it could escape, teeth grinding together as pain seized her abdomen. Every muscle in her body locked. Her hindquarters trembled violently beneath her.

The pressure was unbearable. It came in waves. Each one stronger than the last. Each one leaving her more exhausted than before.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she struggled to catch her breath. Sweat dampened her fur despite the cold mountain air. Her limbs felt heavy. Useless.

She hated every second of this. The den felt too small. The air too thin. The pain too much. And worst of all, she was alone. No comforting presence. No family. No mate. No one waiting eagerly for the arrival of these pups. Just her. Always just her.

A flash of lightning illuminated the den entrance. For a moment, Bao found herself staring into the storm. Part of her wished she could simply walk into it. Leave. Keep walking until the mountains swallowed her whole. Another contraction hit.

The thought vanished beneath agony. A strangled gasp escaped her as instinct forced her body forward.

Push. Breathe. Push again.

The cycle repeated until finally—

A small cry. The first pup. Bao stared at it through half-lidded eyes. Tiny. Wet. Alive. Its voice cut through the storm's roar.

She should have felt something. Joy. Relief. Wonder. Anything. Instead there was only numbness.

The pup was quickly cleaned and pulled toward her stomach through sheer instinct. Movements drilled into her bones by generations she had never asked to belong to. The second pup came not long after. Larger. Stronger. Louder.

Its cries joined its sibling's. Two healthy pups. Two reminders of something she desperately wanted to forget.

Rain hammered the mountainside. Thunder shook the den.

Still her labor continued.No.

No, no, no.

She couldn't have another. Her body disagreed. The next contraction hit hard enough to rip a cry from her throat. Bao's claws gouged trenches into the earth. Pain exploded through her abdomen. She felt as though something inside her was being torn apart. The storm outside seemed distant now.

Muted. The only thing that existed was the agony. Push. Breathe. Push again.

Her vision blurred. Darkened. For a terrifying moment she thought she might pass out.

Then suddenly—Relief. The third pup slipped free. Bao collapsed onto her side. Every part of her ached. Her muscles quivered uncontrollably. Her body felt hollow. Used up. For several long moments she couldn't bring herself to move. The storm continued its relentless assault outside. Rain. Wind. Thunder. A fitting welcome. Eventually she forced herself to look.

The first two pups were already at her stomach. Tiny but determined. Alive. Strong.

The third wasn't. Not really. It barely moved. Its sides rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths. Its limbs twitched weakly against the stone floor. Even compared to newborn pups, it looked impossibly small. Fragile. Wrong.

Bao stared.

The runt struggled to lift its head. Failed. Collapsed. A tiny squeak escaped it. Pathetic. A knot formed in her chest. Not affection.

Something uglier. Resentment.

Because she already knew what would happen. The weak died first. The mountains didn't care. Winter didn't care. Starvation didn't care.

The world took and took until nothing remained. And this one looked halfway gone already. She could leave it. The thought came easily. Too easily. A single push. A nudge toward the den entrance. The storm would do the rest. Nature would make the choice for her. The runt let out another weak cry.

Bao's ears flattened. She hated that sound. Hated how helpless it was. Hated how guilty it made her feel. Hated that guilt even more. Because she hadn't wanted this. Hadn't wanted any of it. Not the pregnancy. Not the memories attached to it. Not the fear. Not the months spent carrying a burden she never chose. And now here they were. Three tiny lives pressed against her side. Three living reminders.

The runt twitched again. Barely. Its breathing stuttered. For a moment Bao genuinely thought it might die right there. Part of her hoped it would. The thought struck like lightning. Sharp. Ugly. Honest. If it died now, she wouldn't have to decide.

Wouldn't have to choose whether to spend energy trying to save something destined to fail. Wouldn't have to feel like a monster for considering abandoning it. The storm roared outside. The runt shivered. And despite everything—Despite the resentment. Despite the exhaustion. Despite wanting nothing more than for this night to be over—

Bao leaned forward. Slowly. Carefully. She cleaned the tiny pup. The runt barely reacted. Its body felt frighteningly delicate beneath her touch.

It won't last, she muttered to herself.

The words were swallowed by thunder. Maybe she was trying to convince herself. Maybe she was preparing for the inevitable. She nudged it beside its siblings anyway. The tiny thing immediately struggled for warmth.

Fighting.

Surviving.

Trying.

Bao lowered her head onto her paws and watched the three of them huddle together.

Outside, the storm raged on.

Inside, Bao stared at the smallest pup long after exhaustion should have claimed her.

Wondering whether it would still be breathing when the sun rose.

Wondering whether she wanted it to be.

Something shoved her forward before she was ready, squeezing and crushing and forcing her into a place that felt far too large. The darkness she had known split apart beneath flashes of white light and sound crashing around her. Ranyin hated it immediately. She drew her first breath because her body demanded it, not because she wanted to. Air burning through her lungs brought a cry tearing from her throat, sharp and angry as she protested the injustice of existing.

The storm would answer with another roll of thunder.

The girl lay trembling on the floor tiny and blind but already fighting. Her tiny paws flexed against the ground as if she might somehow push the entire mountain away from herself. The cold bit at her skin and the noise never stopped. The world felt hostile from the very beginning.

Instinct pulled her toward the warmth she was drug to, but even then there was resistance. A stubborn refusal buried deep within her, the urge to reach warred against the urge to pull away. Because she did not know what a mother was, what safety meant.

She did not know love.

And maybe she never would.

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