The first contraction struck while Akira was teaching Kova the old words for different kinds of ice.
"Sikuliaq," she said, her hand tracing patterns in the air that mimicked the way multi-year ice formed layers like geological memory. "Ice that remembers many winters. Strong ice that—"
Pain lanced through her abdomen with the sudden intensity of lightning finding ground. Her breath caught, trapped between lungs that suddenly forgot their purpose, and the Inuktut lesson dissolved into a sharp gasp that made Kova's silver eyes widen with immediate concern.
"Mama?" His small hand found hers, bridge-builder power flickering to life around his fingers like visible worry. "Are the babies coming?"
She meant to reassure him, to explain that cubs weren't due for weeks yet, but another contracti
