When Astrid had come into the den in a panic, rambling about her mother's cubs being in danger, Freya hadn't spared more than a moment to rush into the den and grab them as quickly as she could, her oldest friend doing her best to help her with the burden of carrying the cubs from the cave.
These cubs had been small and fragile and absolutely worth protecting, or so Astrid had demanded, though when she questioned her friend about the whereabouts of her mother, Astrid had frozen up and merely ignored the question, the cubs the main priority.

It was when Astrid had hidden them in a cave of a friendly Thrall that Freya finally snapped.
"Astrid, please, tell me what is going on!"

Astrid had wasted no time getting the cubs out of harms' way, and though she hated not telling Freya the facts, there just wasn't the time for it. Helvegr could show up at any time, and the cubs could not stay in the pride. Not to live full lives.
When Freya snapped, Astrid cringed, her eyes teary, "Trust me when I say I can't. Now is not the time. The time we spend here is time we shouldn't, but we have no choice. Leaving in broad daylight is not an option."

Freya's brow furrowed, "Leaving? The pride? With newborn cubs? Astrid, you can't be serious about this. What if the father should return to claim them and he is not here?"

Astrid seemed to freeze up, her eyes lightening, "Yes, yes of course! Freya, we have to find their father!"

Freya shook her head, "We don't know who that is, Astrid, and even if we did, how are we to find him? Why not wait until he comes here on his own?"

Astrid took a deep breath, but steeled herself and looked her friend in the eye. "You mother is dead, Freya. And H-... the one who killed her will come for them too. I was there... I saw everything." Why she didn't say Hel's name, Astrid could only blame the look over Freya's face. She was crushed by her mother's death, even if neither of them would ever admit to liking the other, much less love. She couldn't believe it herself that Hel was capable of murder, how could she expect Freya to expect it of her own son?

And Freya couldn't believe her mother's death as it was. The very idea that the horrible woman who had been so hell-bent on trying to make her stronger growing up was dead? And dear gods above, Hel had been so fond of her, she could only imagine what he would think if she told him...
"What do we do, Astrid? How do we feed a litter of newborn cubs without their mother?"

Astrid shook her head and nuzzled Freya softly, "I don't know. But they'll die if they stay, so we have to take them away...." She turned to look back at the den, and a flick of color out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. She turned to see what it was and, seeing nothing, looked back at Freya, "Go, watch them. I'm going to see if I can take the next round of border patrol to give us an opening."

Freya nodded, "Good idea. Are you sure you don't want me to do it?"

Astrid shook her head, "No, I'll take the blame if we're caught. It's only fair with how much you've had my back." And Freya always had. From her own mother, from other lions within the pride, just... always.

With that, she quickly ran off as fast as her legs could carry her, terrified that blur she had spotted earlier had been Hel. The last thing she needed was for him to be on to her now, especially after she was almost certainly spotted earlier fleeing the scene. But how could she have known?
The cliffs were always a spot of peace for her, and she had just been wanting to go look out over the waters when she heard the angry conversation and although she had wanted to turn around, for some reason her legs had carried her forward.
And she would be there to witness the moment when Hel would grip up his shrivelling grandmother like a cub and, almost as if he didn't care at all, push her over the edge with a look in his eyes that would haunt Astrid forever.
It was the nothingness, the pure lack of life, that made her gasp and high-tail it out of there.

Freya, in the meantime, looked at her little half siblings with trepidation. They were so very little, not long in the world and yet already someone sought to take them from it just for existing. Or is it because the mother they shared had done something so unforgivable, it had cost her not only one life, but many of them? She noted a layer of dirt on them and, wasting no time, groomed the entire litter, making sure they were spotless and sighing. They were white like Freyja, something her previous litter had not granted her. She smirked. That probably would've made her that much more prouder of them, for inheriting her 'stronger genes'. She never did ask what had made her mother feel that way, and she supposed in some way, she regretted the fact they never got along. But there was no changing that now, though they could change the lives of these young cubs by getting them as far away from here as they could.
Maybe the father knew of a nice, quiet pride where they could grow and not know the strife of this one. Something like that should give Freya peace of mind, though she knew her mother would be livid by it. She shook her head, murmuring to herself.

"If it comes to a strong, short life into death or a weak life well into adulthood, I'll give them life. I only hope you can find solace with knowing they'll live."


[Word Count: 1,014]