The swelling must be over soon. Fierce doesn’t want to take whelp-leave until she knows it’s coming. She’s driven to distraction with the large litter. We’re expecting at least a littersworth^, probably more! QPG^ Stout Rise is sure we have at least 14 due. Very big litter for a first swelling. Despite us not following Heat-protocol strictly, we have been pretty successful. Fierce can barely sleep and Swift, Scrawny and I have not fared much better. Fierce is too tired to try to protect us from how she feels. It’s interrupted the flying rig research enough for us to take a break until after she’s whelped.

There are four others swelling at the moment. Slight Rise, might whelp sooner than Fierce but the other three are at least a twentieth-season later. When the first wave of swelling happened, it seemed like every available dog was swelling. This round is very few, mostly those who did not swell at all or lost their swelling last time. There is an amount of tension amongst those swelling now. Dry pups are often fewer even though it has been hundreds of cycles since season has actually impacted the survival of pups born. Pack has long since perfected the care of pups.

Scrawny went to CT-HQ to report on flying-rig research. We’ve managed to, with a lot of practice and more false-starts than I thought we would have to get over, get the rig to take its own weight through flapping but not whirring. We can get it to hover where we can reach it. If one nose slips off one divot, then the whole contraption comes crashing down. It is incredibly difficult to maintain contact on something moving without interrupting the commands to the device. If two of us are the contact points, the other two can pack-guide them. The two making contact can focus on control but it’s a lot of effort for technology that has no Soil-dog Service yet. Swift wanted to join Scrawny and visit Wisdom First Eyes, but she wants to support Fierce through the whelping if it began more.

We’re nominally guarding at the moment. None of us can really concentrate while Fierce is so hot and uncomfortable. The pack is continuing around us. Many dogs ask us how we are feeling. We have a good pack here.

( It’s kinda mind-blowing. You’re basically being Soil right now, fabricating dogs from your body. ) Swift has been fascinated with the seeming impossibility of dogs, future warriors, being fabricated by a drive to experience pleasure. At first, she and Fierce shared the interest but eventually Fierce was too weighed down to find it exciting.

( I certainly feel like I am being dragged to Soil. If it goes on much longer, I will burst. ) We know. Our own skins feel like they’re stretched too tight.

( QPG Stout Rise said she can get some inducing herbs for us if it hasn’t started tomorrow Rise. )

( Well I hope Scrawny has used what brain is not focused on flying to collect them while he is at CT-HQ. I would rather have to return them tomorrow than have a heartbeat’s delay beyond tomorrow Rise. ) Her terseness is to be expected. Though having it constantly in my every thought and movement is making it hard to be as consistently empathetic and caring as Swift is.

( I am sure he will my spots. He should be here within the degree^. We can always send a dog back to QPG Stout Rise if Scrawny has not brought it. ) Swift goes to Fierce and starts to groom her calmingly. I’m as restless as the pups in Fierce. I decide to inspect the items on the sun-plain waiting for their inner creatures to awake. It is now well into Dry and we’re barely taking items into the research dens. We’re serving in the light until a few degrees either side of zenith, where the whole pack takes on an appropriately gentle approach and either rest or drag a few items into the inner chambers. That only seems to happen when the scientists are particularly excited about what they are investigating. With the immediate risk to Soil gone, and having acclimatised to the relatively deserted settlements, Pack in general feels relatively relaxed. You can forget that there are dogs out in the sky on different worlds, heated by different suns and sleeping in different soils who are experiencing who knows what trials. The research still pushes on, the more we can share with Pack on other worlds the better, but I am eternally blessed to still be on World and with Soil. I have no idea what I would do with a meagre portion in a comfort-unit as my only access to Soil. When all dogs on all worlds know what gift Soil gives to Pack, Soil will be even more precious. Many dogs will have to give up their comfort for the sake of Pack. Of course, any dog would make that sacrifice but I am glad I will not be asked.

Suddenly, my whole body cramps. I smell the bursting of fluids from Fierce. It has begun.

We are in the den where these pups were conceived. Experienced whelpers with us. One-Spot First Eyes was the first. Soft Rise only a few cents behind. All three of us are floored by cramps every few minutes. One Spot First Eyes is telling a scent-story about how incapacitated he was when his mate first whelped. His burbling scents are a welcome distraction. Soft Rise is as calm and practical as she was during The Cleansing. She is an excellent dog, I should recommend her for notching.

“The first head is apparent; it should be pretty quick from here. You’ll be nursing and enjoying your first taste of hormonal insight in a degree.”

( You are the strongest warrior I have ever met. This is going to be fine. ) I can’t keep up with the more experienced dogs. My resolve to learn how to whelp hardens. I will be the best dog I can be. Our bond will only be strengthened. I can smell the pup, covered in Fierce’s tissues and fluids. I move round and see the first pup slide from her to Soil. One Spot First Eyes comes forward, chews his umbilical cord and starts to groom him, this tiny life we fabricated. He shows me how to make sure that First Eyes is breathing. Fierce passes the placenta, it smells iron-rich and almost irresistible. She eats it, the taste in her mouth is delicious and right. The next pup takes a little longer to emerge, when she does, I am ready to separate her from Fierce, groom her dry and check her breathing. One Spot First Eyes drops back and uses encouraging words to Swift and me as we free and clean the pups as they fall from Fierce.

( Well done, scent of our souls. There are 5 stout, healthy pups. ) I don’t know what to add. As I do, the sixth pup falls onto Soil. Swift grooms that one. Fierce is eating the next placenta. Soft is with Fierce, muttering things to her. Fierce feels so strong in the pack-bond, she has found a rhythm and is focusing on bringing these pups into the World. She does not acknowledge hearing me.

( Let’s focus on our task and let her focus on hers. ) Swift is a little sad. She could’ve swelled too, she has gone from strength to strength and this is not what she thought our first whelping as mate-bonded would be. The pups that have been groomed are following their drive towards her warmth and they are nudging and shoving at her nipples that cannot yet feed them. First Eyes is against me, trying the same.

As the twelfth pup joins his litter-mates in hunting for milk not yet available to them, Scrawny becomes apparent in the pack-bond. He is frantic. I try to calm him.

( There are a few more to go, you can come meet your den-pups. ) He feels confused then floods us all with excitement and sadness. In amongst the high-emotions we’re all experiencing, it barely seems noticeable but Swift cocks her head quizzically from the pup she’s grooming.

Scrawny stumbles in. I am finishing Number 13 and Number 14 is just dropping. He lies between Swift and me. The pups head for the heat radiating from him and his heaving sides. He’s swarmed and whatever his thoughts were, are forgotten. He’s delighted. He grooms each one and smells them. Swift and I continue to take pups, groom them and let them join their litter-mates against Scrawny who is happier than I have ever smelled him. The cramping pain like a strap round my stomach has blended into the background up until now. Without warning the pain becomes unbearable. All four of us curl round the agony.

“There is one more. Then you will be done. You can manage.” Soft is calm but she looks to One Spot First Eyes and he leaves the den. As we recover, we each send encouragement to Fierce.

( We got you through The Cleansing. We got you free of the metal vine. You will get through this, strong warrior. )

( I pity those who stand against you, you can defeat this as well as any other enemy. )

( All the strength of den-pack is with you. With you guiding us, we will prevail. )

The last pup is born in a gout of fresh blood. Fierce collapses. I got to her and groom her face and ears. Scrawny grooms the bloody pup. Swift tries to nudge the pups to Fierce’s body where they will be fed. Soft gestures to keep the pups until Fierce is ready. They’re making small noises at the draft now reaching them. One Spot First Eyes enters at a run with clumps of clot weed.

“The last three placentas haven’t come yet.” Soft and One Spot First Eyes are expectant. They both start to chew the clot weed to activate it.

“Should we be worried?” Swift is already worried.

“It is a lot of pups for a first whelping. She should be fine, but you know this blood is not whelp-blood. She needs to have clot-weed applied as soon as possible but it will come out with the placentas if we put it in now.” Soft’s voice is calm, but her scent is not.

“The placentas should be passed soon. If we need to wait more than 20 cents^, then we will just apply clot-weed twice.” At that, One-Spot First Eyes drops the mouthful of clot-weed and leaves for more. I almost wish he had stayed to tell us a story of how he saw this before and how he smelled of blood for a week.

As his scent clears the chamber, Fierce groans. A mass of flabby whelp-blood falls from her in a gush of the fresh blood that has Soft and One-Spot First Eyes worried. Soft instructs us while Swift and I push chunks of chewed clot-weed gently into Fierce’s bloody vagina^. She’s whimpering in the pack-bond. Even in this much pain, surrounded by fear, she doesn’t show her agony to the pack she commands. When One-Spot First Eyes returns with more, Soft and he chew it in preparation and pass it to us.

I’m sure we’ve put in more clot-weed than would fit in the snug chamber my dick visited. But then there were 17 lives inside her until now so maybe it is not enough. The blood from her goes from gushing to dripping to leaking. Soft and One-Spot First Eyes relax.

“It’s stopped. She’ll need to be very careful for at least a twentieth-season^. You three will need to be her legs. If you’re happy for me to ask Silky to go fetch QPG Stout Rise to smell her over and ensure everything is OK. She should also have more than just whelp-provision. She needs something really iron-rich like bison.” I acknowledge I’m happy with that and Soft leaves while One-Spot First Eyes loiters for a while.

“I’ll go to pack and tell them that there are 17 new pups! Are ye content to have ye-r den-pack of 4 or would ye like me to find a few dogs to supplement your den-parent pack?”

“I would prefer no un-bonded just yet, thank you One-Spot First Eyes.” The first sentence Fierce has managed since her bleed, fills us all with more confidence. One Spot First Eyes leaves and the three of us transfer the pups to Fierce’s leaking nipples. Five pups cannot latch on yet, Scrawny pulls them into himself and grooms them and chats. I can’t hear what he is saying in full through the adrenaline^ but I let his words soothe me. My thoughts chase imaginary threats and prey but slower. I focus on breathing slower.

Those who latched first are beginning to become full and tired. Scrawny gently and confidently transfers his five and pulls full ones towards him. They are fit to burst with milk and deep-sleep like nothing could ever be wrong.

I start. I don’t know when I fell asleep, but I’m disturbed by muttering outside our whelp-den. Fierce is intently focused on the conversation that woke me.

“That’s impossible. I’m telling you, if he was Walking, he would have come via me.”

“When I went to visit him…” he has no stomach to present this news, he doesn’t know what to say “…the QDs said… he had Walked in the night.” He pauses and Swift’s fury shimmers in the air and pack-bond, “He wasn’t in his den this Rise and he was not well… you know he was weak.”

“That… is not the point.” I have never heard Swift so angry with any-dog. “He knew he was going to Walk soon. He was going to come as far as me. I was going to ...help him Walk.”

“He didn’t need the help?” the apology in Scrawny’s voice is pathetic. “The QDs said he was quite agitated the last few days, maybe he couldn’t remember agreements he made with you.”

Scrawny sounds like he is on his belly. He’s frightened by part of Swift he’s never smelled before. We’re all struck by her strength of emotion. It feels like she is going to be torn apart like provision by her anger, her sadness, her frustration and her fear. Even the pups are stirring and seeking for milk. Fierce and I encourage them to latch on while we continue to try to understand what’s happening to our Swift.

“You do not understand. Nor will you now.” She snaps then we hear and feel her taking a deep breath. “Tell the other two I’ve gone for a stroll. I’ll be back by nadir” The Set-hunting degree has only just started. Where is she planning on going? Her pack-barriers are up and strong. I turn my focus onto Fierce,

( It has been a long day with many stressful and delightful events. QDs should be here soon, if they’ve not already been. I will ensure you have plenty of provision. I will leave Scrawny with you to den-parent the pups. ) I have this thought openly in the pack-bond. Scrawny shakes off his confusion and re-enters. “I will be back before nadir.”

As I try to seem like a proud whelper and head out across the den-plain, many dogs want to congratulate us on a first whelping. Calls of “Notch, you’re definitely serving Pack!” and “More than a littersworth in your first litter! Ye’re overachievers all round aren’t ye, Notch?” It seems whelping has made every-dog as familiar as den-pack. I start being put out, but I hear Swift reminding me this is why the pack is strong, every-dog wants to be den-pack. I try to catch a whiff of Swift. I definitely don’t want to draw attention to her strange behaviour.

Wherever she went, she did it scent-masked. And she’s a degree’s “stroll” away now. No-dog mentions having smelled or seen her. The QDs approach me with a large portion of dried bison^ and a fresh whelp-feed. I tell them where to find Fierce and Scrawny, making a last desperate attempt to find Swift with my nose. After having been so over-run by pack-dogs who wanted to share stories of their first whelpings and point out that we had even more pups than All-Pack Guider^ No Eyes First Eyes Runt^ Rise in the teeth of a long day of Service, I feel muddled.

I strike out for a wild-roam. I wander towards the human compound. Through the tunnel and into the compound tunnel. No-dog is in the compound tunnel at this time of night. I take a moment to breathe and to think through what has happened today. We whelped. We have done great Service.

I catch a tiny familiar scent. It’s not Swift. Wherever she went! She could have served as a stealth-dog! I cannot place it. It is not of-World. Scent behaves differently in the compounds, maybe it is just a waft of something. It makes me think of the early days of “the experiment”, after The Cleansing, when we were first investigating the buzz-compound.

If I can’t locate or even identify it after 20 cents of trying, it is probably just my tired mind making me smell things. I return to den.

Fierce, Scrawny and Swift are sleeping with the pups. I count them for good measure. Three latched onto Swift, four onto Scrawny, the last ten are on Fierce. With a litter this big, we should start taking whelp-feed to induce milk in us all. Scrawny looks up as I join them.

“Wisdom First Eyes Walked.” The horror and sadness I feel is more than I can cope with this tired.

“Thank you for telling me. I guess that is what upset Swift earlier.”

“Yeah, I don’t know why.”

“Well I am sure we can figure it out when we have all had some sleep. It has been a pretty high emotion day.” First Eyes detaches from Scrawny and makes his way over to me. He grabs my nipple and starts sucking with a power I didn’t think anything that tiny could be capable of.

“He’ll settle down in a minute. Until we produce, I think we will just all be tender of nipple.” Feeling closer to Scrawny than I ever have, I let myself sleep.