Aanya and Tamanna

Silhouetted by amber beams stretching with the waking January sun, the teeth of the world arose, jagged and uneven, out of the lifting blanket of night. Ablaze with radiant crown the mountains regained their majesty, decreeing a promise of grief to any unwary, or weary, traveller.

Aanya, who had wandered half the night across the wintry mountainside, welcomed the delivering orb of warmth and light; her broad ursine head lifted in greeting. Shattered frost rained from her thick brown coat as she shook off the weighted memories of night.

'Not much farther, Tamanna.' Offered Aanya in response to the latest cramping of her distended stomach; they were becoming more frequent, though not yet regular. The I hope she left unsaid, secreted within her praying thoughts.

Pitted black eyes working for them both, Aanya gazed up once more at the dawning sphere of day, sacrificing precious seconds in restoration of her resolve before continuing on her lumbering search.

* * *

Aanya's den was a hastily chosen thing, a shallow burrow nestled by an infant stream, happened upon during Autumn's decline. Too accustomed she had been to following her mother's (the venerable Sahana) physical footsteps. Independence, finding her own path, had not been easy. She had spared little thought to the life growing within her.

Sahana had been a patient and providing matron, had permitted Aanya to stay for a third consecutive winter even though her son (Aanya's brother, Balvan), had departed in the spring, never again to be seen - as was the way of her kind. Aanya wondered if he too had been successful in winning a mate, or whether his omega attitude had failed him; she rembered their tussling sibling rivalry which usually ended with her brother's sullen submissions. She wished him well.

Sahana had taught her daughter how to hunt, forage, source water, climb, defend herself, and locate shelter - everything that was required to survive - lessons, Sahana had hoped, Aanya would one day pass to cubs of her own.

Despite Sahana's teachings, Aanya never saw herself being a mother, of reaching the maternal heights of the great Ursa. Yes, Aanya had attended the convergence in June - the annual meet of childless sows and testosterone fuelled boars, staged to ensure future generations (and stroke boar ego) - and pulled the uncontested attention of a mighty Alpha (she received no name, before, during or after enduring his frenetic, carnal throes), but she cared little for what came after. Believed she would care little for who came after. There were lessons her life's journey had not yet attended; lessons in love that would be trialling and late in learning.

After the convergence, once the ritual was complete and the males had departed to reclaim their territories and the females had left to nest, Aanya was cast aside by her mother; an act of necessity bearing no malice, another lesson every child must, eventually, learn to accept. She was three years old, an adult, freshly sullied; she was to secure her own den, prepare for winter and for life as a mother. Instead, Aanya wasted the Summer months meandering the forests, glens, rivers, lakes, and valleys of the mountainscape, dejected and lost.

It was the increasingly chill Autumnal nights, heralding Winter's kiss, that gave Aanya pause, a desire to settle down and find a den for hibernation - and birth. Her belly was not then bloated with child, would not grow until her months of rest. She battled her instinct for a while, considered not hibernating, believing she could free herself from motherhood, believing this was what she wanted. Nature, self-preservation, forced her paw. And so it was that she happened upon the ill-fated burrow.

* * *

For two months, Aanya had nestled in her den, waking to stretch and shuffle, to reposition herself in the narrow confines. Her womb had swollen in that time, her bloated stomach now visible, in part thanks to her diminishing weight. She had gorged well in the Autumn, but hadn't factored the strain her needy cub would have on her fatty stores. Those first weeks of Spring would be trying.

It was during one of those shuffled repositionings that she felt it. A fluttering sensation from within. For a brief worried moment she feared she was ill. Feared that she would have to leave the relative safety and warmth of the den, brave the snow and ice and scour the barren land for food; months too early. Realisation rapidly dawned on her that the movement had not been hers. Surprisingly comforted by this, she rested her head once more.

Over the months of her hibernation Aanya began to accept the life growing inside of her. Spring would be a test for them both.

* * *

The rains were unexpected, and as the cascading assault entered its second day Aanya feared for the security of her rest. The topcoat of her shaggy fur was sodden and muddy, caked in the shrapnel of the unrelenting barrage. She placed her back to the entrance to defend her face from the cold spray, but also, she found herself thinking, to keep her belly warm; there had been no fluttering for over three weeks.

Deep into the night Aanya's fears manifested as the swollen banks of the stream lost a laboured fight, birthing a torrent of Winter waters which coursed their way into her den. Weakened muscles fought, pushed, and pawed furiously against the flood. Aanya roared against the nightmare which surged about her, and with a wave of maternal understanding awakened within, roared for her unborn cub.

Though she feared for her life, in that moment what pained her was the very real prospect of not living to see her child's face. She harnessed that pain, used it to strengthen her legs, bolster them with fierce determination. Resolute, with purpose, she clawed her way out of the flooded burrow, looking half the creature than had entered.

Head low against the lashing rain - chastisement for her foolish choice of den - her failure as a mother-to-be, Aanya lumbered off in desperate search for a new den; a home for her cub. Progress was slow, her ursine instincts torn between the urgent call for shelter and the need to conserve energy, there were still three months until Spring.

The dented moon (waning gibbous as it was) had half completed its curving retreat before the downpours stopped, plummeting temperatures cruelly filling the void. Aanya's insides waved as if in response to the rain's departure, a dull-ache which swept through her uterus and threatened release. The first of her contractions.

Daylight was hours away, and though she could see well enough in the dark, Aanya sensed no respite would be found until then. She struggled on, laboured across the desolate, sloping sides of the mountain, and wrapped herself in the warm nostalgia of youth. Perhaps in resistance against the bleak, colourless landscape, her mind conjured memories of Spring.

She was with Balvan, bounding through a flowering grove of purples and pinks. A daze of colour danced around them. Butterflies which the pair chased in innocent play, leaping after one and then, distracted, pawing after another. With another leap her memories landed splashing through a shallow and refreshing lakeside. Sahana stood nearby in the rippling waters, forebearing, oozing calm and protective warmth as her cubs frolicked their way through yet another fishing lesson.

Aanya's thoughts flashed to the future; to her own cub, hunting insects with jovial abandon and reckless attempts at catching carp. She pictured young wide-eyes, sparkling in awe at the world as only a child's can. She imagined a furry brown ball rolling over her, vying for attention, irritating her out of sleep. The image did not frighten Aanya, she did not flinch at the prospect or begrudge the thought as once she might. She loved her cub, she knew that now.

Another contraction dragged Aanya, thick mangy hide layered in frost, back to her dolorous march. Clinging to her vision she tried to lift herself out of despair; while she lived there was hope that she would see her cub. Hope. She clawed at the feeling, used it to heave herself onward.

'I shall see you, my little Tamanna. I shall see you. Embrace you. Love you. I love you Tamanna - my little Hope.'

* * *

Although morning had broken in regal proclamation, by midday the teeth of the world were lost to an impenetrable icing of cloud. Thick flakes of snow fell through the rest of the day, replenishing what the rain had stolen.

Weary from her labours and painfully close contractions, Aanya ascended a scree covered slope. Wide paws keeping balance on the slippery debris, she rounded the incline onto a plateau. A frozen lake filled the base, stretching out hundreds of feet and reaching back twice as much, surrounded by steep rock-faces. Aanya envisaged the scene in Spring, pictured afresh her little Tamanna lunging in the waters.

Shadows loomed over the lake; the sun hiding behind the mountain with the approach of night. Tentative, each step a test, Aanya made her way across the frozen surface. Ignorant to the creaks and squeaks of the ice, she concentrated on her breathing, willed her clenching contractions to slow, fought the impulse to push.

Cut into the mountain ahead, growing with every step through the gloom, was a black spot. 'Hold on, Tamanna. Not much farther.' This time a promise.

The spot widened, tapered upwards; a deep crack in the rock.

Aanya growled as another pulse of pain promised to take her rear legs from under her. Battling her bodily desire with feral will she hastened her momentum towards the cave, slowing briefly with each threatening throb of contractions which quickened their pace in pursuit.

Strained under the increased pressure, the ice gave out a final shrill cry before cracks snaked like thunderbolts across its surface. It broke with a thundering sigh. Aanya, prone from the sudden shift underfoot, back legs sinking into the deathly waters, scratched at the ice with her front paws, found purchase and hauled herself up.

Little respite could be found however, as frozen shards were sent bobbing across the fresh pool under the weight of Aanya's crashing chest. Her rear-end slid back beneath the surface. Frantic, she lashed out outstretched paws again and again. Claws tore rutted tracks into the ice. She sunk deeper into the lake, managed with great effort to keep her head dry. As numbing as the waters were, the agonies of labour still convulsed through her.

Summoning thoughts of Tamanna, Aanya dug into her reserves and kicked out at the glacial darkness below. Propelled upwards she clawed again at the ice, less frantic, driven by the promise to hold her baby, to look upon Tamanna's face. Claws hooked at last she dragged her body free. She did not stop until she was sure of the ground, until she had entered the cave.

* * *

Hunched over her haunches for many hours, the climax of Aanya's pregnancy, the birth of Tamanna, was a traumatic affair. The moon was high in the clear sky before the final push was performed. Tamanna's arrival was without fanfare; soundless, save for the grunted breaths of Aanya.

The newborn cub, female, as chance would have it, was tenderly cleaned by the young mother; affectionately licked free of membrane. Tamanna did not fight it, did not balk at the strange sensation, nor shudder under Winter's breath.

Fulfilling her oath, Aanya took Tamanna into doting paws and admired her at length, studied her squished, closed-eyed face. She bore every detail to memory: her pink nose and paws; her tiny limbs; her thin brown hair sprinkled over her soft, flubbery frame; and, her nubby ears.

Fervently embracing her child, Aanya turned to face the lake, to face all she had endured. She pressed Tamanna closer to her chest, focused on the love she felt in that moment, and watched the silvery reflection of the moon shimmer across the ice.

The grieving would start tomorrow.