She of Little Breath

New Puppy was born with an anomaly. All puppies have short snouts and big heads, but this particular pup is very wrinkled and visually deformed, as though someone pushed her face into her head. New Puppy is audibly gasping for air, but she is alive, and she seems healthy for now.

SHE OF LITTLE BREATH


Birthplace Nightfalls
Sire Fools Gold
Dam Druid Amber

The nursing den is smothered in the scent of sweet milk, the soft warmth of snuffling breath and the shuffling of bodies too small and uncoordinated to move. The pups are small, tucked away in the den in lieu of the more robust and wanted pups of the Nightfalls. No matter, Amber thinks, nosing a squealing bundle of fur closer to her bosom. These pups were not wanted, not needed for the pack. It was a cruel reality, but for as long as her father remained the wandering casanova, there would be no need for Amber, who carried his bloodline, to mother her own pups. So, her duty was to wean these pups off of her milk, to act as nurturer, until she no longer had to care. For there was no need for their weak, murmuring hearts, and the short and stubby muzzles that were so commonly found in both Amber and her father. It's alright. She told herself, ever wishful for the best possible solution. Mother Star knows that I had tried. She knows that I did not choose this duty unwisely.
Yet, the soft snores of her litter became chortled and wavering. A singular pup, one who resembled Fools' Gold so perfectly, weezed with more effort than such a little body could handle. Her muzzle pushed up against her eyes, a wrinkled mass of malformed fur. Her little mouth held no room for her wandering toungue, desperate to escape in order to glean more air for the heaving body. Mother Star, it is not yet time for me to finish this job! Am I so cursed that my pups do not even survive the night?
The soft light gleaned from the entrance of the den dissipated in an instant, as large bodies now carefully stepped over the other sleeping mothers. Dawn Somnus and his Dusk, Stann, who also happened to be the Nightfall's Herbalist, now stared down at the worrisome mother with concern lacing their features. Fool's Gold stood behind them, although he weaved his way to the front, nuzzling his daughter's scruff in an effort to comfort, ignoring their higher rank just for this moment.
"They asked to visit, daughter." he murmured, clouded eyes glancing back up at their superiors. For a wolf who had sired so many, Fool's Gold rarely spent much time with his offspring, although he had paid more attention to Amber after her mother had joined the ancestors. They shared the same stubby snouts, same mismatched muzzles that made is just so slightly harder to breathe, after all.
"Indeed," Dusk Stann murmured, leaning over the suckling litter to nose at the worrisome pup. "I heard a whisper on the wind, an omen. The air became thin, I could barely breathe. I was careless, dear Amber. I had failed to realize the reason behind peculiar appearances of many in Faction Gold. This pup will not survive much longer. Mother Star has sent us a sign, one that She had to make fatal in order for us to listen."

The four wolves peered down at the sickly pup, solemnly quiet in their premature grief. Any sign from Mother Star is of importance, Amber guiltily told herself. She has chosen me as her vessel. I will be cared for as Her daughter until the end of my time in the Nightfalls. Thank you, child, you have kept me safe.

For life in these mountains are sacred, however dangerous. She of Little Breath, who was sent to Mother Star's side, a chosen pup to join the litters of stardust in Her inky night. She of Little Breath, an omen, and now a legend within the Nightfalls, for Mother Star had chosen her, which meant that above all, She had chosen the Nightfalls.