Poppymilk
To those who know her, Poppy is the doe to go to when one needs a tincture or a fix for something or another. Except this time, it's Poppymilk herself that needs a bit of help -- and no mix of herbs and berries is going to cut it.

She's pregnant, very pregnant, and expanding her den to make room for the little ones that are soon to arrive is turning out to be quite the chore. Only the softest and fluffiest of grasses will do for the bedding, after all, and more flat stones to line the pool of water at the back...

There's so much to do, and it's exhausting.

At the end of a long day, she finds herself tuckered out in the middle of a field, resting her tired hooves as the last of the sun's rays glint in her hair. If anyone were to happen by, they may not even notice her at first, so well does her coat and pattern blend into her surroundings -- that is, if it weren't for the quiet groans that escape her as she flexes her legs.

"...Maybe I shouldn't have wandered so far from home," after all, her belly is bigger than ever. 

Bitter Heartbeat
He'd settled down for a quick cat nap in the setting sun. The warmth absorbing and settling into his scales like a much needed massage. He'd noticed the doe, of course, but she didn't seem quite yet inclined to ask for help and he wasn't yet ready to move. And so he'd napped, skittering every once in awhile to keep her in his sights, and waited.

Now, however, distress seems to emanate from her. Whether it is pain or fatigue, he isn't sure but nonetheless the stag rises up half-visible behind him. Concern and care are evident as he gazes at her.

"Are you all right, child?" the voice is kind, a little roughened by sleep but warm. He frowns, subtle; she's far too big to be taking such ardent and long journeys. Everyone, however, must learn there own limits.

Poppymilk
At the sound of the voice, Poppy startles a little. She must have begun to doze -- but as she glances around it takes her a moment to spot the source. A crocodile...?

No, she realizes. Something else. The vague shape of a stag behind the creature confirms her suspicions, though she's never herself run into a legendary, her sister told her of her own encounter, once, some time ago now.

Her awe is somewhat dampened by her own fatigue, but nevetheless she feels glad that someone has come along.

"Well.... it seems I've traveled a bit further than I should have. I lost of track of time and well.." she glances toward the direction of her den and grimaces a little, before her gaze strays, inevitably, back to the rather strange, if awesome, sight before her. At the very least, his presence is distracting enough to make some of the ache in her ankles seem more distant.

"I'm sorry... I shouldn't stare, I suppose, but I've never run into one of your kind before. Ah-- my name is Poppymilk, by the way. How rude of me," she smiles a little, prettily. "Though I'm not sure I can stand just now to greet you properly."

Bitter Heartbeat
"You should listen to your body," there is no chastisement in the statement though he does add, "Please, lie down and rest."

His shoulders shake, the line of his spine, following as he becomes as solid as the expectant mother in front of him. The caiman fades away and he walks forward to meet her more properly.

"My kind is the same as yours, Poppymilk. We are all kin. A few of us have been graced and grown but we are still kin," he chuckles, lightly, amused. "Bitter Heartbeat is my name."

A distant commotion reminds him that it is the hour of predators and often time dinner. There's a grumbling in his own stomach and he frowns; he's forgotten to eat today. And he doesn't believe he's seen her do anything of the sort either. Terrible of them.

"Are you hungry?"

Poppymilk
The doe gasps softly as the stag shifts shape, but her surprise is soon softened with a soft smile at his laughter.

"I.. yes, I suppose that is true, isn't it? Even so... it's said that only a few are so selected by the Motherfather," she looks at him more closely, now -- easier to do now that she's not talking to a caimen. The resemblance to his familiar is striking, though -- or perhaps it's the other way around.

And right on cue, her own belly gives a plaintive rumble, and Poppy's face flushes with heat. How very... daft of her not to eat. Though, aside from catching fish in a stream, or finding fruits near her den, actually catching food in her state is rather out of the question. The thought does amuse her, though.

"It seems... I really did lose track of time," she sighs, and shakes her head. "I suppose the Motherfather must be looking after this silly daughter of hers, after all," and she laughs softly, catching him in a smile. "It's very nice to meet you, Bitter Heartbeat."

Bitter Heartbeat
"I'll just be a moment," he says. Before her eyes he vanishes and though she cannot see, he is still there except as a caiman as he goes about catching some dinner.

It doesn't take long, nor does it occur to him that she may perhaps something more green, until he comes back. There are three large salmon balanced upon the stag's back and he slips down to kneel in front of the pregnant doe. He carefully pulls the fish from his back and presents one to her, one to himself, and the third for whoever is still hungry after.

"Now, after we eat, we can discuss what you're in need of," there's an amusement in his voice. 

Poppymilk

As the stag shifts once more, Poppymilk watches the rustle of grass as he heads away from her. In his absence, she shifts until she's more comfortable, thankful for the thick, plentiful, grasses, and begins to doze.

It's only once he's returned that she comes to once more, offering him a somewhat sleepy, and grateful, smile.

"That sounds like a good idea... Though you've already helped quite a lot. Thank you for the fish -- it looks lovely," she pulls the fattest of them toward herself (she's eating for more than just herself, after all). By the time she's finished, the bones have been quickly, and efficiently, picked clean. With a satisfied sigh, Poppymilk glances toward the stag.

"I'm feeling much better already. Though... I was wondering if you might accompany me to my den?" The sun is little more than a reddish glow on the horizon, and already it's getting rather dark. "It's not too far... but I could use the help, especially in the dark. I don't think I could forgive myself if anything were to happen," and with that, she gives her swollen belly a gentle nudge with her nose.

Bitter Heartbeat
"I wouldn't dare send you alone at this hour," he smiles. If he wasn't a caiman himself, he might not dare be out himself. As it is, he finishes his meal and rises.

"We can talk along the way," he adds. It'll help deter the shyer of predators, he knows. Beside him, translucent, the caiman keeps watch. He has no doubt they will reach the doe's den in safety but it never hurts to be cautious.

Poppymilk

"Such a gentleman," she laughs softly, and pulls herself up to her feet. It seems the rest, and the food, have done her some good, however, as her ankles aren't nearly as sore as they were earlier Just to be safe, she tests them a little, rotating them back and forth, and when they give little more than the expected twinge of discomfort, she nods, satisfied.

"I should be fine as long as we take it easy," and as they start toward her den, the last light already faded, Poppymilk turns to look at the stag walking next to her and smiles a little. "Do you also live nearby? Or was it simply chance that our paths crossed?"

Bitter Heartbeat
"A calling," he begins, "usually leads me to those in need. It does happen by chance at times." He doesn't know how it works for other Legendaries, it occurs to him, and he files it away to ask the next few he sees.

He keeps his steps slow and measured beside her, "What do you wish for your children?" The question sounds light but it is weighted. There is much he feels he needs to know to tailor the ability the Motherfather has trusted him with.

Poppymilk

"I see..." She watches him from the corner of her eye for a moment more, still somewhat fascinated by him, despite his rather humble approach to the whole legendary thing. His question gives her pause, though, and she considers it carefully.

"Well.... The usual things, I suppose, of course. For them to be healthy, and happy, for them to... find their way in life when the time comes. But especially... for them to be at peace," she thinks of her own siblings, and even her strange and distant father, as she says this last bit.

"My family has always been a rather odd bunch, and not all of them peaceful or happy." Her aunt, Hush, is perhaps the only one she knows whose closest to that -- even if she is rather reclusive. Grandfather Evermore, too.

"I think some of that has to do with being raised properly, too, and I suppose... I can only hope that I'll have the wisdom to know what to do for them when it's needed," she smiles a little, then, as if to shake off such serious thoughts, but the feeling persists. She wants the best for her kin -- and that's all there really is to it.

Bitter Heartbeat

He nods as he listens. Health and happiness are nearly always a guarantee when it comes to new parents. Finding their way is quite near the top as well. Peace, however, that is a new one. Rather than comment, he continues to listen.

"There is oddness is all families," he assures, making no comment on the latter of the sentence. There are all sorts of reasons for unhappiness and souls at war, he knows, and it's hard to soothe them all.

"Oh, there is no such thing as a proper way to raise anyone," he corrects, as only a parent who has been there can. "There is your best, your worst, and a world in between. That's not to mention the environment and friendships, your children and you. As a father, I can tell you, you will try and sometimes you were fail but if you love them, it will be worth it."

The den is coming into sights and he thinks he know now what she needs. Reassurance and hope, a dash of confidence.

Poppymilk
"I wanted to ask.. but I didn't want to presume," she says quietly, referring to his own experience as a father. But, somehow, it's reassuring to talk to someone who's been there. As a mother, though, she does feel that she has a particularly important role to fill in the lives of her children.

"I suppose you're right... We can only ever do our best - and I certainly will," her smile returns, if a bit shyly. She spots her den, then, and lets out a breath of relief. A bit of glowing lichen near the entrance marks the way, and she thinks she's probably never been happier to see it.

"Would you like to come in for a moment, or...? It's dark now, and you walked me all the way here - it's the least I can offer." 

Bitter Heartbeat

"I'll see you in and then do what I can to put your worries at ease," he agrees. He lets her lead and follows her into the home she has made for herself and the children that will soon join her.

"Your children shall be healthy and happy. While they may not always know what it is they are meant to do, they shall find it and when they do peace will reign within their souls. As much as you teach them, so, too, will they teach you. And together you shall find harmony and know love."

He smiles, pleased, and waits. He doesn't usually but in this case he feels it is better that she be given a chance to say good-bye before he goes on his way.

Poppymilk
Despite her polite demeanor, Poppymilk is usually a rather tough doe -- and so, later, she'll blame the hormones of her pregnancy for the tears that spring to her eyes at his words (though she does not let them fall).

"..Thank you so much. Really. I'm not sure what I would have done if you hadn't found me and well... you've been very kind," she smiles, then, and bows her head slightly.

"If you're ever in need of assistance in the future, I'm known around here for the strength of my healing poultices and er... other mixes," there's a somewhat sly glint in her eye at that, and she laughs softly. "I hope we meet again, sometime." 

Bitter Heartbeat

"You are quite welcome," he smiles, bowing his head.

At her offer, he twitches his ears, "I shall keep that in mind, Poppymilk. Until then, be safe."

The stag turns and with each step fades until there is nothing to be heard but the swamp's nightsong and the occasional grumble of a caiman.



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