Fair warning: I'm going to be sticking a decent amount of black speech into this story; translations will be at the bottom of the page. Though it may not be accurate, it's all I can find.

Also I like the way it sounds.

Hope you enjoy! Leave me a review!


Chapter One: Birth

Her roars echoed throughout the entire system of caves, bouncing off of the stone walls and reaching the ears of every eager inhabitant. A majority of the women living within stood crowded just outside Ash-dulg's hûn-mokh, trying to catch a glimpse of what was transpiring beyond the entrance of hanging furs.

The only ones permitted to be inside were Thrak-dag Zurgarn and her young pupil, Ilzkaal. The girl dabbed cool water onto Ash-dulg's perspiring brow while the old crone kneeled at the end of the bed made of woven blankets, and instructed the woman with stern words between intensifying contractions.

"Breath, woman, worst part is almost past." Another roar erupted from Ash-dulg as, again, a violent contraction wracked her body. "Girl, fetch my pouch and begin Nork-nûl. This child does not wish to pass slaiumzug."

"Matum, Unurdhog-izg. Broshn-lat. Snag-fraatûrz-la, ûndûrz-niin, agh muzûrz-grish." Ash-dulg started muttering under her breath. She was cut off and ground her teeth against the pain.

"Kramp nar mat kaam-lab-ishi!" The thrak-dag roared and stood up with impressive haste for one so aged. Zurgarn grabbed a hold of the pregnant woman's chin forcing her to meet the grey eyes of the old woman. "You will raise this child, or no one will." She kneeled back down between Ash-dulg's spread legs. "Now listen to me, woman, push!"

"If I do not survive…" Ah-dulg groaned, "Zurgarn, there is no father."

"So you'll live. Push!"

The women outside watched as the situation unfolded. They listened as the old Zurgarn informed of the passing of the pups head. Listened as the roars continued until the child had passed and its squeaks and soft growls replaced the mother's anguished cries.

Zurgarn hurriedly passed the child off to Ilzkaal and ducked back down. "You are losing much blood. Ilzkaal, let her hold her child and help me, girl."

Ilzkaal stared down at the small pup, eyes full of wonder. How something so pure could come from so much pain and sacrifice astounded her. She leaned over slowly towards the mother's weak, outstretched arms and lowered the pup gently onto her chest. "It's a male." She said quietly, completely absorbed in the sight of the child, still gazing down at him nestled there. This was the first birth she had witnessed and assisted, yet she was but a child herself.

"Girl!"

Ilzkaal hurried away to help her teacher who had began to work frantically, muttering to herself.

The small boy looked up into his mother's peaky face. He was quiet now and watchful. She gazed back, red, tired eyes full of a contentment duly earned by her conquering.

His eyes were the dark brown, almost black, of most newborns, but would soon turn to a red or yellow as most of their kind possessed.

Zurgarn stood, wiping blood from her hands, a look of defeat over her, and moved to the woman's side. "You must name him, Ash-dulg."

There was a pause and she looked up to Zurgarn, who affirmed her fears with a stiff nod. There was nothing to be done. Ash-dulg looked down at her son and answered with a shaky breath. "Fiim."She ran an affectionate finger along the edge of one tiny pointed ear, being mindful of her claw. "He will be called Fiim."

A single tear fell from her slanted cat-like eyes as she felt her strength lessening. She found her hand falling from her soft child's face. Her breath grew shallow as the life drained slowly out of her.

She was trying to memorize every feature of him with her eyes before everything would go black. Fiim started to whine and fuss, still looking up at the paling face of his mother. She said his name one more time, as a whisper, barely audible before it was whisked away.

Then another tear. Another shuddering breath. And Ash-dulg's eyes closed with a grim finality.

Many of the women standing just outside shed tears of their own, some began to wail, others started reciting their clan's chant of the dead in hushed voices, working up a cacophony, an orchestra of sorrow.

Ilzkaal held a hand over her mouth as tears grew and threatened to spill over onto her cheeks.

"There is no place for tears here, girl." Zurgarn drew with her gnarled fingers, a line down the mother's forehead, and two on either cheek. "Snag-fraatûrz-la, ûndûrz-niin, agh muzûrz-grish." She muttered over her.

Zurgarn took the pup from his mother's chest and handed him to Ilzkaal. "We must find one to nurse him," She looked towards the entrance "Hmph."

As the old Orcess moved about, instructing the other women that the body was to be cleaned and prepared for the Dafr-ob slaium, Ilzkaal looked down at the boy.

Fiim.

He gazed back with wide, watery eyes, fussing with his small plump hands. He whined and buried his tiny face into her arm, clenching the coarse fabric of her dress in one tiny fist. She felt as if something had shifted into place within her chest as she looked into those new and innocent eyes, and tears threatened once more at the corners of her own.


Hûn-mokh: A dwelling shared between an imprinted pair, or two Hûnnur

Thrak-dâg: Child bringer. Essentially a midwife.

Nork-nûl: Pain taker. A grey salve used as an anesthetic.

Slaiumzug: Border of life.

Matum, Unurdhog-izg. Broshn-lat. Snag-fraatûrz-la, ûndûrz-niin, agh muzûrz-grish: Death, I embrace you. Welcome you. After weary work, fresh water, hot blood. A chant or prayer said when one is near death or has died.

Kramp nar mat kaam-lab-ishi: Do not die in your bed!

Dafr-ob slaium: Celebration of life. A celebration held when a member of the clan dies to celebrate a life well lived and not a life cut short.