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"I, uh ... I wonder if she'll have your emotional freeze. And ... my tail, maybe." A nervous, whisker-twitching pause. "Well, IF it's a girl. I mean, maybe it's a boy. Maybe ... "

Aria's breathing was erratic. She grunted.

" ... maybe it'll be a boy. Will it have my color fur? Or yours? Will ... uh ... "

The snow rabbit turned her head a bit, her forehead damp with sweat. "Ross ... "

" ... yes?" The meadow mouse, eyes wide, held his breath. "Yeah?" His whiskers twitched incessantly.

"Do not ... worry," she breathed.

"Worry? I'm not worried. I'm ... no. Mm," he went, as nervous as anything. "Mm."

"I am the one in labor," she told him, as calmly as she could. "You must calm down ... "

"I'm always calm," was his reply, a shy, helpless smile dawning on his muzzle. His ears swiveling.

She eye-smiled, panting a bit, the eye-smile blinking away to something more concentrated. "Water," she said.

"Right." A nod. "Water, water," whispered Ross, a bit frantically. He moved off to fetch the water bottle. And brought it back. "Here."

A nod of gratitude, and she drank heavily, swallowing, sighing.

Outside, the sun was setting. The windows were clear, the wind whipping past them, nipping, biting with an Arctic, snowy cold, the land all covered in fields of frozen white. The mountains in one direction. And the distant capital city of the province in another.

In here, it was warmer, though. They were in Aria's old bedroom, back when she'd still lived here, in her family's home. Her home. The house in which she, herself, had been born. And, now, her child would be born here, too. As instinct and tradition demanded.

Her mother poked her head into the room. "Daughter," she stated simply, in that calm, snow rabbit way. "Is your labor progressing?"

A little nod from Aria. "Yes."

"There is a blue bat the door. At least ... I THINK he is a bat. He is buried under so many layers of clothing ... he is mumbling about 'frostbite'."

"He's here for us," Ross said, nodding. "That's, uh, Barrow."

"Are you sure you do not wish a snow rabbit to oversee the delivery?"

"Barrow can handle it," Aria said, her back half propped up against the headboard of her bed, with lots of pillows. Her knees bent and legs spread a bit. Her soft, white, furry belly bulging. She had a loose, flowing t-shirt on, but nothing else. The bottom half of her bare, and her breasts hanging loose inside her shirt. She panted, swallowing, trying to keep her heartbeat steady.

"As you wish," Aria's mother said, giving a slight nod. "There is also a question of who you wish to have in the room ... "

"I do not want your 'partners' to be present," was all Aria said, trying to be nice about it. Trying to be polite. As most snow rabbits, her family included, still adhered to the old traditions. Of breeding parties and the like. They hadn't necessarily supported Aria's marriage, at first. Not only marrying her love, but her love being OUTSIDE the species? They had not approved. But when they'd met Ross, they'd softened. And with all that had gone on lately, all the wars, and everything, and with other snow rabbits following a more faithful path, they'd softened their stance. "You may be present. And father," Aria added. "DIRECT family ... and Barrow."

"As you wish," said her mother, but her whiskers twitched as she said it, not agreeing with her daughter's decree. "Your father may not get here in time, however. He is on the second moon." The second moon was where the Arctic fox refugees were still being housed. During the recent conflict with the wasps, many foxes had joined the effort. Their predatory natures had been helpful in deciphering wasp attack patterns, among other things. Relations among the two species had softened considerably. The Arctic foxes owed their lives, reluctantly, to the snow rabbits, and the snow rabbits had been forced to trust them, and ultimately, things were better off than they had been.

That's not to say that predator/prey tensions didn't still exist between the two.

They did. They would always exist. It was simply instinct, and simply the way of things. And each species of predator was different. As each species of prey was different. There would always be wars and conflicts between predators and prey. In this universe, anyway.

But, between the Arctic foxes and the snow rabbits, specifically, it was no longer at 'dangerous' levels.

"Are any of my siblings here?"

"They are away. At school and elsewhere. Only Bering is here, and he is far too young to understand he is to be an uncle." Bering was Aria's half-brother. Born of Aria's mother, but not Aria's father. None of Aria's siblings had the same father, as snow rabbits, with their increased virility and loose breeding habits, tended to prefer 'spreading the wealth,' as it were. Having as many children with as many different partners as possible.

Ross remained quiet while the two snow rabbits conversed. The last time they'd been here, it had been a bit awkward for him. It had taken some getting used to. Aria and her parents had a definite tension between them. A definite love, too, but even though their voices were calm and not betraying greater feelings, Ross knew snow rabbits. He knew them intimately. He knew their tones, and how to read their body language.

Aria, eyes closing, felt her contractions. And felt her adrenaline spike a bit. In preparation for the pain that, soon enough, would come. The pain that was already here, in fact. But it would soon hurt a lot more. But she was also excited. Filled with a great anticipation and inspiration. She was about to deliver a new life, one conceived with love.

"The first labor," Aria's mother said, still lingering in the doorway, "is always the longest. And the hardest. Subsequent pregnancies get easier."

"Do they ... "

"Yes."

Aria nodded quietly.

"I know how you are feeling, daughter. Inside. I felt the same things when I gave birth to you," she whispered, as tenderly as a snow rabbit could. "I do remember every moment of that day ... when I first held you in my arms. When I named you. When I took you outside ... so you could take your first breath of cold air." In snow rabbit terms, her mother was getting very sentimental.

Aria bit her lip, and her eyes darted. And then looked up and over to her mother's.

Her mother gave an eye-smile. "I will fetch your doctor from the living room. I will return," she said, giving her daughter a nod. And then nodding at Ross. And then casually turning to go.

Aria let out a deep breath, wrapping her arms and paws around her belly. She'd been in labor, what, ten hours? What seemed like forever. She shook her head slowly. She hoped this wasn't one of those labors that took over a day. That went deep into the night. It was already late-afternoon. The sun had already retreated, and the moons were shining, providing strong, pale lights in the sky. The moonlights came through the window, washing over chairs and blankets.

Ross watched his wife with those wide, innocent mouse-eyes, his big, dishy ears swiveling at all her breaths. There were candles lit, on the table against the wall, making the room more soothing.

The snow rabbit, eyes opening, saw him staring. "What?" she whispered.

"Nothing," he stammered, ears flushing. "You're just ... I love you," was his simple, little whisper, her whiskers twitching. "You know?"

An eye smile. And she mouthed back, "I love you, too."

Which drew a literal beaming look out of him.

Aria drew a breath through the nose, considering, and saying, "I would like ... I would like for our baby to have your ability to smile. To have your smile ... to have dimples like you."

The meadow mouse blushed, dimples showing, whiskers twitching. "Well ... I'd rather it be more like you," was his whisper.

Aria closed her eyes again, trying to steady her breathing. She felt a great tightness in her groin, a pulling. Her contractions, now, were three minutes apart. She timed them in her mind. Each contraction lasted about fifty seconds.

"You'll be okay," Ross assured.

She opened her eyes again.

"You're tense. I can tell ... you'll be okay," he told her again, and he reached for one of her paws. "You can do it. Just, uh, practice the breathing techniques Barrow taught you, and ... and I'll hold onto you," the mouse went, prattling, rambling. Oh, he was so nervous. His voice literally trembled in a light, squeaky way.

A weak eye-smile. And she held to his paw. And then drew a deep breath, the contractions strong, rhythmic, hitting her like coming and going waves. She exhaled, her heart going faster, faster.

Barrow poked his periwinkle head into the room, with his bat-snout and his swept-back ears and all, and said, "Uh ... I'm in the right place, right?" And he grinned a toothy grin, entering, saying, "Captain, you look RADIANT."

"Doctor ... "

"I was waiting, you know. For the call. I was in sickbay. I thought you had another few days, but, uh ... guess it wants to come out, huh? I took the shuttle-pod down right away!" He'd already wriggled out of his parka and gloves and attire, leaving all of it in the other room. But, still, he rubbed his paws together in a warming way.

"Doctor ... "

"Yeah?" the bat went, wide-eyed, blinking.

"Calm down."

"Oh. Okay." A nod, a nod. And he looked to Ross. "You holding up?"

"Uh ... yes?" Ross said, not knowing how to answer that. His tail snaked, and he squeaked a bit.

And Aria's mother re-entered the room, closing the door behind her.

"Alright, then," Barrow whispered, pulling out his scanners and stuff. "Ooh ... you're almost fully dilated!"

"I know," said Aria, through gritted teeth. The pain was becoming a great distraction. She swallowed, but bore it. Snow rabbits did not believe in taking pain medication unless it was absolutely necessary. And she didn't want to admit weakness just yet. She could bear this. And she squeezed Ross's paw tightly, closing her eyes.

"Barrow, have you ever delivered a baby before?" Ross asked, whiskers twitching.

"What? Oh, yeah ... yeah, sure."

Ross frowned, whiskers twitching.

"Trust me," the bat said. "Now, I've never delivered a mouse or a snow rabbit ... a mabbit? A rouse? Or ... maybe a snouse ... no, but, uh, it shouldn't be too different. Though I do admit snow rabbits have very unique physiology." And he went to the foot of the bed, and blushing a bit beneath his fur, told Ross, "Uh ... I have a lovely wife of my own, so I'm just looking at your wife's, uh ... well ... in, uh ... her body," he finally settled, "with a professional admiration. Just so there's no misunderstandings," the bat said, giving deep, analytical looks between the snow rabbit's legs, at her feminine parts. And running his scanners there.

Ross's ears turns rosy-pink. "I, uh, trust you," he said, honestly. But still blushing, seeing where Barrow was looking.

Aria didn't feel the embarrassment, though, and just grunted again, trying to control her breathing.

"Are you sure you wish him to be present?" Aria's mother asked, raising her brow, giving a tiny nod at Barrow.

Aria sighed heavily, nodding. "Yes ... I trust him. I want my own doctor to oversee my delivery." And not, she added internally, one of your 'partners,' no matter how skilled they were at it. The thought of her own mother and father, even while living in the same home with each other, sleeping, many times daily, with other snow rabbits, upset Aria greatly. She wanted to know that her parents loved each other. That they were devoted and devout. Like how she and Ross were. But she knew they weren't. Her parents were just 'partners' to each other, with a bond of sex and detached affection, and nothing deeper. They hadn't conceived Aria out of love. But, simply, out of the need to breed. Out of simple pleasure. And where was the lasting meaning in that?

Ross, adept at knowing when minds were scurrying, whispered to his wife, "Don't think about it ... nothing to get upset about right now. Just focus."

Her ears waggled. A tiny nod. "Water," she rasped again. She needed more.

He gave her the water bottle again. There was more than one water bottle in the room. When one ran out, there would be a quick replacement.

She drank, again, greedily, unable to stay upset with her parents for too long. Thinking about them. About growing up in this house, with their breeding party. It had not been a bad childhood at all. And she DID love her mother and father. She was closer to her father. Always had been. But she understood their motives. She had joined a breeding party, herself. She knew the allure of it. Knew the pleasure. She knew WHY snow rabbits did it. Knew they were afraid of emotions. Of true emotional expression. They believed in no middle ground, that love was a threat to their emotional freezes. And perhaps, on some level, it was.

But that was a risk Aria had been willing to take. And with her reborn faith, she'd found great rewards in it.

But hers was a complicated culture, no doubt. And change would not come easily or overnight. But she hoped that individuals like herself and Arianna and Alabaster and Olivia could, somehow, steer her species toward a purer stance.

"Are you comfortable, daughter?"

Aria looked up and over to her mother, who had chosen to remain by the closed door. And she nodded slightly, putting the water bottle aside. "I am," she whispered.

"If you are uncomfortable ... "

"I am not," she insisted, eyes darting. "There is a great warmth ... in this house. I feel safe here," she said. Despite everything, she did. She loved this place. It was her home. And she didn't dislike her parents' 'partners.' No. But, "I simply wish to keep this a direct-family ... affair," she said, swallowing. "But the air in this place does me well." A sigh. "I am simply ... apprehensive," she finally admitted.

Aria's mother seemed to soften at this. "I know. That is normal. And I am just glad you do not think yourself above your elders. Above your parents. Our party raised you ... "

"I know that." A whisper. "I am grateful. I do love you all ... I ... am sorry if I have presumed to be 'better.' I do not believe that. I am simply ... at odds with ... " A breath, and a wince of pain. "I do not wish to think about this," she panted, "right now. I do not ... " Another shake of the head. Family/societal squabbles, right now, were ceasing to be of interest or concern. Her only focus was her labor. Her only focus was on her body. On the baby.

Focus.

Ross squeezed her paw.

"It is my fault, daughter. I have been tense since your arrival. Let us put it aside. You will need your energy. I will be here for you. I do," she repeated, "love you."

Aria felt a flush. Of something. A flush of heat. And she nodded quietly, realizing that it was almost time.

Another wince of pain. Increased breathing.

Almost time.

"Ship feels empty," Ezri whispered, "with all the snow rabbits on the planet." Her voice was quiet, almost at a whisper. As if afraid to break the hush that had settled over the mostly-empty bridge.

Arianna blinked. Waggling her tall, slender ears.

"Well ... okay, YOU'RE still here, but most of them went down," the squirrel added.

"I will be going tomorrow. Myself and Ollie."

"Is he used to it? The cold, I mean?"

A slight tilt of her head. "He came from a snow world. However, he is more 'warm-blooded' than I am."

Ezri nodded a bit, swiveling her chair, and grooming, with her tongue and paws, her luxurious, bushy-brown squirrel-tail. "I like your world. In small doses, mind." A smile, looking up. "I like your alcohol, too."

Arianna, standing, leaning on the silver-colored railing on the bridge's outer level, eye-smiled. "Is that a request?"

"Well ... " A giggle-squeak. "Will you get me some?"

"What are you going to use it for?"

The squirrel, chittering, stuck her tongue out. Insisting, "For me and Jinx's mutual benefit."

"I see." A continued eye-smile, and a flicker of her puffy bobtail. "Very well. I will bring back ... something," she promised, not specifying what kind of alcohol, exactly. But something.

"Thank you," Ezri said pleasantly, still grooming her tail.

A swish. And the lift opened, Arabella and Bic emerging.

"Hey," went Ezri.

"Any word yet?" Arabella immediately asked, threading her way to the helm, where Wilco was quietly reading a book on a computer pad, the back of his chair to the helm, and his tail draped over the consoles.

"On Aria? No," said Ezri, quietly, whiskers twitching. "No word ... " They were all waiting, restlessly, for news of the birth.

"Barrow is down there," said Bic, taking a breath. Letting it out. "He's gonna tell us after ... what's going on ... " Arctic was, currently, in a dry-dock beside one of the nine snow rabbit space stations. The ship was being refitted, repaired. All the crew was being given three weeks of shore leave, but they couldn't all be on the planet or on the stations at the same time. A skeleton crew was needed to oversee the visiting repair crews, and to check on systems, and so on. So, everyone was on alternating schedules.

Alabaster and Olivia was currently down on the planet. As were Ross and Aria, obviously. The snow rabbits were all clamoring to get down there (in the most restrained of ways, of course), but the 'warm-blood' furs tended to want to stick to the space stations, which had promenades full of entertainments and restaurants and shops. The frigid cold of the planet was not for the timid.

"How long's the Captain gonna be down there?" Wilco asked, putting his computer pad aside. Arabella was now sitting in his lap, the kangaroo rat draped over him. They were nose-nuzzling, and her tail (with the tuft on the end) roped around his bushier tail.

"Probably another day or two," Bic reasoned, fiddling with her own tail, and leaning on the railing with Arianna. "I don't think she'll want to travel soon after giving birth. She'll need to rest." A pause. "So, uh ... I have to ask ... who's gonna be next?"

"Next?" Arianna asked, blinking.

"Well ... yeah. Like, it's no secret we're all young, in our twenties. With how often we need to breed, and ... sooner or later, you know," she said, trailing, gesturing a tiny bit. "Who's it gonna happen to next? Getting pregnant, I mean." A breath. The war was over. And, true, another one could press in at any time. But life, for the moment, felt suddenly lighter. Felt ripe, fertile. Everything was waiting, tingling with possibility.

"Well, I'm not ready," Ezri said, "for a baby. And ... you know, we can't get pregnant by accident," she said, referring to her and Jinx. Skunks and squirrels were outside the range of genetic compatibility. "I'd have to get, uh, a male squirrel to be a ... a sperm donor," she said, flushing beneath her fur. "Or adopt. Or something." She trailed. "I do want a family, but not yet. I wanna wait and see how events pan out ... " Too many epic, shady things had happened lately. She wanted to make sure they were REALLY in for a respite from that.

There was a momentary quiet.

Arabella said, a bit shyly, "Well ... we had an 'almost.' A few weeks ago."

"An 'almost'?" Arianna asked.

"Well, like, during my last heat, uh ... his condom worked itself off, and we, uh, kept going. We were too worked up to care at the time. Afterwards, we ... were a bit, uh, holding our breaths. But the test Barrow gave for me was negative."

Wilco flushed. "I'd ... I wouldn't mind trying, though. If you want," he said, his nose against the fur of his wife's neck.

She whispered something into his ear, shifting a bit in his lap.

He nodded, whispering something back.

They would talk about it later.

"Ollie is desperate for a child," Arianna said, taking a deep breath. "So, we are actively trying."

"That's awesome," Ezri said, smiling warmly. "You'd be good parents. I know you would."

Arianna nodded her head a bit, in gratitude, but said, "Trying does not equate to immediate success. It took Aria and Ross several months and several heats ... before they succeeded. Rabbits and mouses are not the most compatible of species. And snow rabbits and mouses? Only ten percent compatible ... "

" ... well, Ollie's technically a SNOW mouse, though. He comes from a snow world. Maybe that'll help. And, hey, it worked for Ross and Aria ... "

"We'll pray for you," Wilco announced.

Arianna eye-smiled. "Thank you ... "

"Anyway, I'm sure you'll have fun trying," Ezri said, winking. Smiling. Whiskers twitching a bit.

"I intend to," Arianna said, eye-smiling more brightly.

"Hey," Arabella said, still in Wilco's lap, at the front of the bridge. "We need to throw a party or something, you know ... "

"For Ross and Aria?"

"Yeah. Well, not JUST for them, but ... the whole crew, too. A re-launch party. Just a party. Where we can all get together and just ... you know, just celebrate things. Life. And love. We need to have a party before our next assignment."

"What IS our next assignment? Anybody know?"

A swish. Jinx coming off the lift, and Ollie with him.

"We were just talking about you, Ollie," Bic said, wavering her brushy, varied-brown chipmunk tail at the white-furred mouse.

"Yeah? Good stuff, I hope," he said, filtering to Arianna. And leaning with her against the railing. Between her and Bic.

"It was complimentary," Arianna assured him.

Ollie giggle-squeaked, looking around. "Alright," he went, softly, voice trailing.

Jinx, after checking the tactical station, walked across the bridge and to Ezri, joining her at the comm station. "I see how it is," he teased, looking to her, and then looking at the others. "I have to supervise the repair teams and such, and you all get to loaf around up here."

"Snow rabbits do not 'loaf'," Arianna assured, quite properly. Her bobtail flicked.

"That's what you get for being the first officer," was Wilco's response. To which he added, after a pause, "Sir."

Jinx just grinned, chuckling. "Mm."

"Hey, darling." Ezri nudged Jinx. "What's our next assignment?"

The skunk admitted, "Dunno. I don't think the Snow Rabbit High Command has detailed that yet. They're still busy, uh ... licking their wounds," he said, twitching a bit. "Understandably," he added. And a breath. "And I don't think the Furry Federation really cares. They have three ships of their own out here, and they've left them on their own. I mean, Luminous and Solstice, for instance, work more closely with the snow rabbits than with ... you know, with anybody back at Home-world, or any of the other core furry worlds. And ... Arctic's supposed to be a joint venture, but I think they've just dropped us in the snow rabbits' laps. Which is fine by me."

Some nods. When the crew had been thrown together, at first, there had been a great tension. The snow rabbits and the 'warm-blood' furs had bickered, avoided each other. There had been trepidation. But that had, by now, almost completely gone away.

They were a family, now.

"I just hope that the other furry worlds get their heads out of their tails ... and start planning, thinking ahead. Working together. Cause, you know, in five, ten years, the wasps could come back, stronger, faster ... or the humans. They're still out there. Not to mention the conflicts between predators and prey ... that's not gonna go away." A small sigh. "A lot to worry about."

"True," Ezri whispered, meeting her husband's eyes. "But a lot to celebrate, too. MORE to be grateful for. All we've learned, and ... what we've been through. I think the Lord has blessed us all." A breath. "We NEED a party," she declared, smiling, nodding, getting back to the topic. "We can throw it in the mess hall. That'll be fixed up."

"Well, not until last. It's not a priority area," Ollie reminded. "I saw the repair schedule."

"Well, it's not too early to start planning, is it?"

"I like balloons," said Wilco, raising a paw.

"Balloons." Ezri grinned. "Alright, we have balloons. What else?"

"Party hats!"

A giggle-squeak from Ollie. "Party-hats? No way ... no way. They look ridiculous on mouses. Our ears dwarf the hats."

"I agree. Party hats are unnecessary," Arianna said.

"Well, big-eared furs don't need to wear them, but we'll OFFER them," Ezri decided, reaching for a computer pad of her own, to take notes on. "Alright, alright. What else ... "

And the crew-furs, the friends, talked and giggled together, enjoying each other's company. And reveling in the feeling of warmth.

Aria's whiskers drooped, and her ears, too, hung, hunched over. As if in fierce concentration and exhausting effort. A grunt. Panting, panting, the baby on its way down the birth canal. She shifted a bit, her back feeling uncomfortable against the pillows. She shifted, shaking her head. "I'm ... too hot," she panted.

Ross, as he'd been doing, supplied the water bottle. Constantly supplying her water.

Aria, without embarrassment, downed the water and began tugging, almost violently, at her loose-hanging shirt, which was currently the only item of clothing she was wearing.

"Aria," Ross started, with ear-blushing modesty.

"It is suffocating me," Aria said. "It is nothing ... that hasn't been seen before," she managed. "Do not argue with me."

Ross took the shirt, setting it aside, as Aria, bare, now, sighed heavily, back propped up. Knees bent and up, legs spread. She huffed, whimpering. It hurt. Oh, damn, it hurt. She shook her head, forehead-fur matted with sweat.

"Breathe," Barrow reminded. "Remember the ways we practiced ... keep a rhythm going."

A quick, desperate nod.

The bat, at the foot of the bed, looking between her legs, urged, "Push. Now." His eyes went back to his scanner. "Come on, push, Aria. Please ...push ... "

"I am pushing," she stated, raising her voice. Her emotional control being affected by the physical discomfort, by the labor. "I am pushing," she stated, quite adamantly, and she grunted, eyes squeezing shut. "Nnn ... hnn." And she stopped, sighing heavily. "Oh," she panted, whimpering, shaking her head, her paws shaking. "I ... I can't ... it hurts," she breathed.

"Aria, come on," Barrow said, using his best 'doctoring' voice. "You're almost done, okay?" The bat gave a glance to Ross, widening his eyes, giving a silent 'help me out here.'

Ross nodded, and held to his wife's paw. And whispered things into her ear. Soft, unheard things. Lovely, little things, assuring her, and holding to her paw. And then saying, "Let me on the bed ... let me get behind you," he said. "I'll hold to your shoulders. You can lean back against me," he said, voice quavering with nervousness and excitement.

Aria didn't resist. She scooted, as best she could, forward. And the meadow mouse got on his knees behind her, letting her lean back against his belly and chest. And his paws gripped her bare, snowy-white shoulders, which were soft but tense. He squeezed them, massaging, and was able, from this position, to whisper things right into her ears.

"Another contraction's coming," Barrow warned.

Aria, gritting her teeth, shook her head, as if unable to believe this was actually happening. She breathed heavily, erratically, trying to brace herself. She swallowed, her breasts hanging, heaving.

Ross continued to whisper to her, rubbing her shoulders, her upper back, giving her a presence and a touch, hoping to offer her his strength, if that were possible. Trying to will her onward.

The force of the contractions, as well as the snow rabbit's conscious pushing, propelled the baby down, a bit closer.

"Push!" Barrow chittered.

"Hnn! Hnnnn ... uh! Huh!" A sharp whimper. "Ow ... " And her eyes, when they blinked open, were watered. "Hnnn ... " She pushed, and then stopped, gasping. "Oh," she went, her paws trembling. She gripped the bed-sheets to keep them still.

Ross was watery-eyed, by now, too, seeing his love in such pain. Seeing her struggle. Seeing her fight for this. In awe of this entire act, knowing what was happening, what was about to happen.

Aria's father quietly slipped into the room.

"Father," Aria said, with clear affection in her cool, quivering voice. "Father ... you came." Had she not been a snow rabbit, she would've been in tears by now.

He nodded at her, eye-smiling proudly. And he sat next to Aria's mother, against the wall, on the couch that was there.

And Aria hadn't time to focus on her parents. She had to push. Had to. Had to. Had to push. She couldn't think about anything else, and couldn't do anything else.

Push!

"It's head is below your pubic bone ... just a few more pushes, Aria, come on," Barrow said, a spreading smile on his muzzle. "Come on," he urged, his scanners beeping.

Ross squeaked incoherently behind her, helping to brace her as she pushed. Holding onto her.

"Unnnn ... nnn," the snow rabbit gritted, pushing for all she was worth.

"It's crowning," Barrow whispered. "I can see the head ... "

Ross, eyes completely watery, braced his wife again. Her own eyes squeezed shut, and she shook her head, hanging it, whimpering pitifully. "Hnn ... uhnn ... " A grunt. A push. And a squelching sound, and she mewed weakly.

Barrow was there, holding up the head, keeping the baby's emergence a safe, smooth affair.

Aria began to pant, her tongue hanging out. Pant, pant, push, push, pant, push. And a final, tense grunt. And more squelching.

And the baby was born. Crying, gaping, the sound filling the room.

And Aria sighed a heavy, fierce sigh, sagging, leaning back against her husband, her head turned as she tried to nuzzle him. As her fur was damp with sweat. Her body more exhausted than it had ever been. But, at the same time, she felt a great satisfaction. Which was intensified when she turned her head to the baby.

Barrow carefully removed and detached the umbilical cord, and made sure the baby hadn't any mucous in his mouth. His. It was a 'him.'

"It's a boy," Ross breathed, his voice as delicate as glass.

"Mm-hmm." Barrow grinned a fang-showing, toothy grin. "You got a baby boy." And he gently, gently brought the baby forward. It was still sounding out, still wriggling.

Aria's paws were stretched out. She mewed.

And he set the baby in her arms.

"Oh," Ross breathed. And he WAS crying, now, his head nuzzled against Aria's. "Look ... oh, my gosh," he breathed.

Aria swallowed, breathing shakily through the nose.

The baby was so small, so tiny. Looked to weigh about seven pounds. Seven pounds! He had tiny, clutching paws, and he had handsome, silver-grey fur, which was soaking wet with fluid, so probably looking bolder than it would when he was dry. His tail was a little, puffy rabbit's tail, but his ears were mouse ears. Not as round and big as his father's, and more on the slender side, but mouse ears, yes. And he bawled a bit, little legs kicking in the air.

Aria held her breath, forgetting that she'd just been in terrific pain. She brought the baby closer to her muzzle. And put her nose against it. And closed her eyes. "My child," she whispered, her voice shaking.

Ross sniffle-squeaked, wiping his own eyes, and wrapping his arms around Aria.

"Congratulations," Aria's mother said, with reverence, coming toward them. Standing beside the bed. "He is beautiful. I am sure he will grow up," she whispered, "to be big and strong. And to represent the both of you in the best of ways."

"Thank you," Aria mouthed, eyes darting upward to her parents. But her nose and muzzle staying closer to her baby, which had now gone quiet. He was still wriggling, but he'd stopped bawling.

"When his fur dries, we must take him outside ... to breathe of the cold."

A sniffle from Ross. "Won't ... he's too little ... "

"He only needs five seconds. Just a breath or two. And we'll wrap him in a blanket."

"I want to ... to bring him out there myself," Aria said.

"I wouldn't advise walking, Aria," Barrow said quietly. "You should stay still for a while ... "

A quiet nod. "Mother ... when he is dry, you and father may bring him to breathe the cold. But ... "

" ... we will bring him back. You will not be separated for long." An eye-smile. "We are proud of you." A pause. "What is our grandson to be named?" she asked.

Aria looked over her shoulder to Ross.

"Sterling," said Ross, whiskers twitching. He sniffled. "Uh ... that was one of our boy names," he said, swallowing. "It, uh ... matches his fur, too, so ... " The baby's fur, as it dried, looking a sterling-silver color.

Aria nodded. Approving of the choice. "Sterling," she whispered.

Aria's mother eye-smiled brightly, nodding. "We shall give you some privacy for a while."

"Daddy," Aria whispered, using a very affectionate term. Not bothering to call him 'father.' Dispensing, in her moment of exhausted tenderness, with 'properness.'

"Yes?"

Aria swallowed, reaching a paw out.

And he took it. And gave it a squeeze.

Her ears quivered. She closed her eyes.

And her father let go, and left with her mother. Aria's mother, however, pausing in the door, saying, "Doctor?"

"Mm?" went Barrow, who'd worked himself into a daze, just watching everything. "Oh." A blink. "Oh, uh ... yeah ... " He cleared his throat and nodded, and left with Aria's parents.

Leaving Ross, Aria, and their baby boy alone, in the warm bed. Outside, the moonlit, night air was swirling, the ground all white. In here, the candles had burned for so long that melted wax was pooling at the bases.

Ross, squeaking softly, nuzzling his wife's neck, said, "I'm so in love with you." It came out as a truer-than-life whisper.

"I love you, too," she responded, breathing, breathing. And swallowing. "We need to, uh ... pray," she managed, her emotional freeze still in place. But the hormones flooding her body, and the event that had just occurred, it made her mind all hazy.

Ross nodded. And whispered their prayer.

"Dear God, we thank You for the gift of this child to raise ... " A breath. "This life to share, this mind to help mold, this body to nurture, and this spirit to enrich. Let us never betray this child's trust, dampen this child's hope, or discourage this child's dreams. Help us, dear God, to help this precious child become all You mean him to be. Let Your grace and love fall on him like gentle breezes and give him inner strength and peace and patience for the journey ahead." Another shaky breath. "Thank you for this miracle ... thank you ... in Jesus's name we pray ... amen," he whispered, trailing.

The room quiet. The elements, though, making their presence known. You could hear the wind from in hear. And you could hear the heat being blown through the central air, keeping the inside warm enough. You could hear the flapping of the flames.

And, in this moment, Aria sighed, and looked into her baby's eyes.

And he looked back.

And Ross wrapped his arms around the both of them.

It is well, they felt. It is well.

It is well with our souls.