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Rthyin and Malta - Fourth baby

The morning of the hatching of Malta's clutch had brightened, lengthened, and was now greying to evening. Family had stopped by periodically, congratulating and almost – almost – as excited as Malta herself was. She was unbelievably happy and not tired at all, though her three orakoi had finally tired themselves out and lay cuddled in a pile. Malta curled around them, protective, adoring and warm, but she was alert.

So was Roshon. There was one last egg, a dazzlingly colored one of teal and blue, that had yet to hatch. Roshon worried over that egg as if he was it's mother, as if he had brooded over it for months. “Roshon,” Malta said, amused, “Come here. Curl up with us. It will hatch in its own time, and you must be exhausted.” From Ysalda's energy alone, at least.

“Malta... Are you sure it will hatch?” he said. It had to have been at least the twentieth time he had asked.

“Very sure.”

“Are you sure it's not a... a...”

“Very sure.”

“How?! How are you sure?!” he looked at her with a yellow-eyed anxiety, “How can you be sure?!”

“I can feel them, Roshon. They're just taking their time, that's all.” Malta said calmly, “Come to us.”

“But... what if it needs help? What if it can't....”

“It's fine. It just needs time...”

Crack

“Oh! Oh tides!” Roshon scrambled to his feet, “It's hatching!” he looked at Malta with an expression of absolute delight, “It's hatching!”

Malta chuckled. “I told you so!” she crooned, her eyes on the egg...

Roshon had seen one of his eggs hatch already, so he should not have been anxious as the egg jerked and twitched and sprouted a long tail that wiggled and flopped around on the floor of Malta's lair.

But he was anyway.

“They're supposed to come out head first...” he murmured, hovering, nosing at the egg as if he could somehow help it, before darting back, uncertain. “Right?”

“They'll come out however they come out.” Malta said, amused. That was, she thought, An awfully long tail for such a small thing but she couldn't be worried, not when it was clearly so energetic and active and alive.

Roshon, with his meddling, managed to break off some of the constricting armament of shell that tried to clasp the little uneven-horned creature in its grasp, and inspected his offspring throughly.

“There, see?” Malta said, stirring to get a better look at the little newborn – the fourth of four eggs. “It hatched.”

“He hatched.” Roshon said, pouting slightly, “And... I knew it all along.” he said quickly, “I was just...” he looked down at the little Orakoi, “testing...”

“Of course you knew.” said Malta, amused, “I've been telling you all along, haven't I?” she purred, lifting a paw to make room for the shifting, sleeping pile or Orakoi already hatched, “Since you know so much, Why don't you clean him off and feed him?” she asked, her glowing eyes mischevious.

Roshon grumbled. “Some student you are.” he said, but the complaint was without bite, and his grin thoroughly neutralized it altogether. He nuzzled the newborn, sneezing at the egg goo that stuck to his nose. “I'm your father. In case you were wondering.” he said, his voice shaking with nerves, “So... um... Right. Feeding.” he trotted stiffly over to the Sheron carcass – once full of meat and now, pretty thoroughly, chewed. There was still meat on the bones, and still bones to gnaw on, their precious minerals available for the bored or the ingenious. Roshon tore off a few strips – small, so that the little one could eat without choking – and carried them over to the wet little orakoi. “This is food.” he said awkwardly, holding a few strips out to the little one, “Theres lots of things that are food, but this one is here, so... um... eat it...” he glanced at Malta, a little panicked. Was he doing this right? He had honestly never bothered with Orakoi before... well...

Today.

Malta flicked her tongue out at him, a silent laugh partially at his expense.

Roshon would have protested at her clear amusement, and even managed to look affronted, slightly, but he melted under the little one's chirps. “Oh...” he said. Malta knew the feeling he was having – that warm, wonderful, blazing love. She felt it too. She snuggled the little ones that cuddled to her side and watched as Roshon fed the orakoi, getting less awkward with every meat scrap he gave to them.

“Now... I guess, um...” Roshon stared as the orakoi clambered onto his paws, “H-hey, what...”

Malta snickered. “He likes you!” she said, finding it one of the most adorable things yet.

Roshon huffed, nudging the orakoi from side to side. “Obviously.” he grumbled, “Clanmates stick together...”

“He's a Ysali.” said Malta, amused.

Roshon grumbled. “His name's Ryth.” he said to her, demanding and determined. His baby, his name.

“How about Rthiy?” she offered, “It's nicer.”

Roshon growled half heartedly, glaring at her with his sulfurous gaze. “Rthyin. Fine. Are you happy?”

“Yes I am.” Malta said, looking over her new hatchlings – all eggs had hatched, all orakoi were healthy - “Yes I am.”