The male wolves seemed to be in a similar state, pacing and growling, while Icefang curled herself up in the entrance to the den and whined nervously.
Brenna had no idea what she was supposed to be doing, but she wanted to help. Bright-Eye gave her direction, and she did as she was told.
Snowfur was in labor for some hours, longer than her first litter by long enough that her mate had begun to howl quietly, tension in every line of his body. Finally, the beta female crept from the cave, a tiny, limp body held by its scruff. She paced some ways away, ignoring her pack, and started to dig.
Brenna followed, two more of the pups cradled in her arms and tear tracks down her face. Longclaw howled and darted into the den to comfort his mate while his foster daughter joined Bright-Eye.
Two pups had lived, but they were tiny, born too early, and their was no guarantee they would even last the night. Brenna sniffed, wiping at her eyes as she helped Bright-Eye hide the tiny bodies under the snow, as was custom.