Indeed, Angier had been nearby. Over the past few days, he had kept careful eye on his mate. Over the course of time since they had bred, Angier went through phases of sticking to her like tree sap, venturing away from her for several hours, and was now back to following her around. Judging by how many nights he had counted (he recalled stopping at around number 55 or so sometime ago) and remembering what the milestones were in regards to Elettra's pregnancy the year before, he was so certain that their next brood was due to make an appearance soon. He had just finished scratching up a particular willow when his beloved's muffled, strained voice called to him through the trees.

His heart felt as though it could have tumbled to the floor of his stomach.

When Deacon, Castiel, and Greer had been born, Elettra had been attacked by a cougar... and he had not been quick enough to arrive on the scene. It had cost the pack their prized Guardian, Guiness. He should have paid more attention to the world around him, not simply believing that the matriarch would have just been a stone's throw away from him. He had missed her frantic footsteps and the growls that had accompanied the beeline she made to the Infirmary. His ears came up and immediately he was on her heavily-scented trail. An eager whine preceded the appearance of his head at the entrance of the den. His nose scrunched up in uncertainty, twitching as he peered through the dark to the back of the den. He did not speak, allowing the smells and scents of the prepared nest to overcome him. Quickly, he glanced over his shoulders and, finding no one on either side of him, he, too, crept inside.

As frightened and as curious as he was, the tawny Leader had yet to fully understand what was happening, if Elettra was in pain or not, and what exactly happened in the business of birthing cubs. Angier, frankly, had been unfortunate in the fact that he was never able to witness the arrival of younger siblings or even help his mate in the process of it all. When Asriel, Sköll and Morganna had been born, he had been much too timid and unsure of himself that he was initially reserved when it had come to tending his Queen.

This time around, he wanted to make her proud, to be the supportive significant other she deserved. Yet, as he crawled into the open den space and made his way toward the back, his large ears came back. He braced himself on his elbows and the whole of his back feet and heels as he also angled his burly frame to partially block the way. This time around... if something or someone were to make its way to Elettra, he was going to be the one to stop them. As much as he wanted to believe such a thing, though, on the other hand, he was downright nervous. This was to be her fourth litter this year and he had absolutely no idea what to expect.

"I'm here, I'm here," he whispered, returning his attention now to the black and shadow where his equal had laid in anticipation for their next set of cubs.

It seemed she was in pain; and, of course, Angier had no idea as to what to do. He relied solely on her as to give him the cues as to what she wanted him to do. She gestured to him and, ever so carefully, he maneuvered his way inside the innermost part of the Infirmary, wedging himself behind Elettra as to support her. Her cry however made him halt, if only briefly, as he slowly settled down, his gaze never leaving her side until she reclined back. He nuzzled his temple to hers, bracing himself as she endured another contraction to produce another cub. Unable to find something suitable to say, a soft rumble of encouragement replaced the words he had meant to whisper in her ear. A wordless sentiment that relayed on some note how proud he was of her and that she was doing so well so far.

When Elettra's fidgeting ceased, his ears came back up and he withdrew his head and face from her, his interest piquing at her words. "She's beautiful." Angier crept forward slightly on his elbows so he could fully peer around her to see their daughter for the first time. "Like 'er mother," he whispered, affectionately grazing the bridge of his muzzle along the underside of her ivory chin. Pausing there for a moment as to steal a glance at the first cub, a dark and bulky "typical Lyall" boy (like his older brothers Deacon and Castiel) by the rounded shape of his chest and boxy muzzle, it was then that he took note of his mate's panting and focused once more. He straightened up and positioned himself around her once more, seeming much like "the frame" to "her painting" in the terms of ballroom dancing. "Breathe," he reminded her quietly, inhaling deeply once and counting to two before releasing it and hoping she would do the same.

Before they knew it, however, there came another cub, one who was smaller than the first two and adorned with a pelt that was a shade somewhere in-between their litter mates' dark and pale coats. He watched as Elettra nudged the tiny creature forward, drawing it just within his reach. His heart could have swelled now that it felt as though it were in its proper place. It presently made him wonder how something - someone - so small could capture his heart. It laid there though before him, shivering without a sound as it fought to gain its bearings in this new life. He peered at the other cubs at Elettra's side, certain his paternal instincts would urge him to continue. They came slowly as he came to understand what Elettra had wanted him to do: to tend to the child, to lean down and, with a gentle grasp of his teeth, set them down between his forelimbs so he could properly see to it.

Its tiny limbs flailed, its stubby tail wiggling about as if in a playful but frantic wag, its wildflower pink tongue visibly cradled behind a rim of perfectly formed black lips. Wondering if it would cry at last, he gave that small mousy-furred forehead few swipes with his tongue, careful to clear its nose and mouth of any obstruction. His touch along that small spine, though, was what prompted the pup to fully fill its lungs with air, a singular shaky cry filling the den for a short second before falling quiet as it nestled against wrist for warmth. Phew.

"Shh, shh," he soothed it through his own trembling, brushing the tip of his nose along the last-born's body before he discovered at last that the child he had before him was a second daughter. "Dad's gotcha, lil' girl." She whimpered now and for a time, Angier wanted nothing but to relish this moment. The girl's lithe form scooted to where her parents' limbs were flush against one another and her father gently guided her to clamber over to her mother. "Think she wants ta be with 'er siblings," he murmured, smiling to his Queen as he snuck a kiss to the tip of her nose. "You okay?"

Everything grew still and quiet; Angier did not dare to even move, not wanting to upset the cubs or accidentally cause Elettra any pain after having allowed her to get comfortable against him. He smiled for what seemed like the first time in weeks. At long last, Willow Ridge had their newest progeny. No injuries, no deaths, no mishaps, no panic (aside from his own when he had first heard his mate call and when his daughter appeared to have some trouble breathing). He could see with his very own eyes how eagerly those three little ribcages moved with each breath and how strong each little digit on each little paw was as the newborn royals suckled side by side in attempt to maintain their spot at their mother's belly. These three, in addition to Deacon, Castiel, and Greer, would be his legacy, that much was for sure. Skoll and Morganna might as well count, but as far as Angier was concerned, those six would carry the bulk of it being half-Archer and half-Lyall.

"What should we call them?" Elettra's voice gently called him back into the present. "Hmm?" he wordlessly questioned before realizing what she was asking. "Oh, well, um..." He took a good look over the cub's different-colored pelts and mused for a good while before playfully musing, "We'll name one o' the girls Elettra the second, the other Elettra the third, an' the boy Angier the second. Easy." A muffled chuckle fluttered past his lips but he shook his head with a tender bump of his nose to her temple. "I kid," he whispered, "But I would like t'name the tawny girl, Isolde, if you'll approve of it." He held his breath as he wondered what she would say and if she would like it at all. "I... had a dream once an' I thought I was talkin' to one o' the Old Ones. They were tellin' me about the future, 'bout what was to come fer us an' th'pack, an' for these cubs. I couldn't remember much though apart from somethin' about Borden an' how I'd visit 'im a day too late and the fact that if I named one of our daughters Isolde, Willow Ridge would prosper for years to come."

[/dohtml]

---

RE: generation of the ages - Angier - Aug 25, 2015

She approved of Isolde - Her Royal Highness, Princess Isolde Archer Lyall. It had a nice ring to it, if she had had any claim to her maternal grandfather's estate and titles and whatever else that made her royalty by blood. Elettra sought her chance to name the other daughter, effortlessly choosing one that was just as strong and commanding as her own. Ravenna. Ravenna Archer Lyall. His head tilted in thought before ultimately giving her his nod of approval as his pale eyes swept over the pale-coated girls.

"An' the boy?" he ventured, his voice merely a little more than a whisper. His head leveled as he settled his head on his paws, glancing up at his mate from the corner of his eye. Several times over a matter of seconds he thought back to his own father, uncle, and his agemate brothers - the litter mates who were younger than him by mere minutes, Tesla and Nolan. They were all curt and a little formal on the ears; perhaps it would suit his son if he, too, had a distinctive name that suggested the air of a well-to-do gentleman. He momentarily frowned. If anything, he made a snap decision to not name him Merritt or even give it to him as a secondary name. Merritt Lyall, for the whole year or so that Angier had known him, was not a loving man nor a decent father. The man didn't deserve a grandson to carry out his name; his uncle Cutter might have, perhaps, seeing as he was the one to look after Angier, but for one reason or another it just didn't click. With brothers named Deacon, Castiel, and Greer, the newest little prince ought to have a moniker that "fit right in."

"I think 'e needs somethin' smooth on the tongue like... like..." Another frown as the jumbled syllables of made-up names came to the forefront of his mind. "Liam or Adaire... but, I'm not really sold on those." His nose wrinkled as he stared at the shadows at the back of the den, "Neville, Nigel, Noah?"

---

RE: generation of the ages - Elettra - Sep 30, 2015

[dohtml]

With a silent ease her mate agreed with the name which she gave her other daughter, far different from Isolde's own though equally strong and new. It was funny now that they were thinking of their son's name-to-be, which should have been the easiest of the group to decide. Elettra had pondered so many names for boys, as she was certain that she would have mostly males in her litter, if not all. Having two females was certainly a shock to her and likely to ever happen again... that is, if she was lucky enough to have another litter to begin with. Many names flooded through Elettra's head, including those she had thought up as she was pregnant, wondering the lands on border patrol or in search of herbs, as well as the names of those who were already a part of her family, to which a second could be named after.

In all her pondering however, her mate was the first to speak up on the manner. "Liam", the first name on his list, struck at her interest quite a bit, causing her eyes to cast over the sooty brown, large pup snuggling at her stomach. Though the word 'Nigel' prodded at her interest too, seeing as Liam had not quite been sold by her mate. "Nigel..Or Nile?" She takes but a moment to ponder this before a smirk presses to her mug, urging her to lick firstly at her son's head, then her mate's cheek. "Niles." It took a few plays with the name, though it eased off her tongue in a coo. A strong name, though somehow soothing and gentle. She could only hope that Angier would follow along with it, though had no doubt it this was what she truly wanted then this is what she would gain. Prodding at her mate's nape once more, and breathed a heavy, tired sigh. Her accomplishments tonight had not gone without ripping at her energy.

[/dohtml]

---