She is finished, letting out a shaky purr of relief as she curls around her newborns to keep them warm with her body heat, their fur beginning to fluff up after being cleaned.
She loses worry in this moment, her head underneath her own wing watching over them. Her purring after each heavy breath becoming calmer. She feels proud - and tired - losing herself to sleep, her eyelids slowly shutting after her exhausting task.
Later in the night, she wakes up, finding her drafiatal missing; her heart starts thudding; her body becoming overwhelmingly hot out of angst as she stands up, roaring loudly to call them while looking around frantically.
She sees a large group of people dressed in fur pelts; some are white with light grey fur - pelts made from her own kind. They are surrounding a clay table embedded in the floor, there she sees only two of her offspring.
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She hears her own heart, feeling the blood running through her veins; her body heat beginning to level. She growls, staring them down as she watches; they seem to ignore her.
One of them stands up, picking up her sleeping offspring, which is wrapped in a light grey fur pelt; he walks off with it, exiting the hall.
She starts roaring loudly at them, noticing a woman who has a human newborn of her own. She is swaying with it gently; it is wrapped in the same type of pelt as her own.
A small elder woman enters; she is adorned with many pelts and skulls. She has many tools and knives on her. She approaches her remaining offspring with the knife; her roaring ceases.
The woman places the knife on the newborn’s neck, slowly creating an incision, as if to take it’s skull out as a trophy.
Her body shakes, her ears folding back as she watches wide-eyed, seeing blood pour out, staining the newborn’s fluff. The knife eventually makes its way through the neck; the old lady detaches it’s head with a light pull, the remaining skin at the bottom that held it ripping off smoothly and quietly. The tribesmen chatter to each other quietly.