TW: Stillbirths
Hazelnut shivered against the wall of the den, curled in such a way that she might savor any body heat she had left. Of course, she knew that to be a fever, that her internal temperature was rising, but that did not stop the chill that echoed up her spine. She'd spent the night tossing and turning, emptying the contents of her stomach, and thinking desperately of water that she hadn't the energy to retrieve. Sleep came in waves, one moment she'd be awake, the next she was just waking with no knowledge of ever having fallen asleep.
Hazelnut knew she was in a bad way, knew that a healer might be a precious resource, but the mouth of the den seemed so far away and her body ached too much to even attempt the trek. She woke again sometime in the early-morning hours, her stomach seemingly at war with itself as the first pain tore through her, causing an unrest in her gut. The second came hours, minutes, days later, the woman could not be sure. Then came a third, a fourth, until she had lost count of how many there had been.
She was still flitting in and out of consciousness, but somewhere in the haze of sickness and pain the mother-to-be found it in herself to crawl to the mouth of the den and give a weak, scratchy call. Something was wrong and she needed help.