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Professional thievery was the very definition of a high-risk-high-reward business. There was no shortage in the world of wealthy idiots who could stand to be liberated from some of their material goods. And even better, many of those wealthy idiots had grudges against their wealthy idiot friends because Lord Fauntleroy said something nasty about Lady Thistlebottom at Duke Rumpterfrabble's grand gala or something equally inane, and they wanted to get back at each-other the only way they knew how; namely, relieving each-other of their prized possessions.

Revna had made herself a very comfortable living doing business with exactly these sorts of people. Some stuffed shirt would offer her an obscene amount of gold to break into their dear friend and/or hated rival's manor house and liberate an ancient manuscript or a fine painting or the Jeweled Nostril of Azathoth or something along those lines. The nature of the actual object was immaterial most of the time, but the money that Revna got in exchange for stealing it very much was.

She didn't consider herself anything so crass as an altruist, but helping nobles screw over other nobles was as close to a victimless crime as one could get in this world, and she'd be lying if she told you that their petty squabbles didn't amuse her.

Still, nothing lasts forever. Revna was in her mid thirties now, which was positively ancient in thief terms. She had gotten this close to being nicked in the middle of her last job, because she'd been careless and snagged her tail on a misplaced coat hook. It was maybe time to start transitioning to a less active position, perhaps as a mastermind for an up-and-coming crew.

And that meant it was that time. Every thief that lived this long thought about it. One Last Score. They all talked about it at one point or another; one big job, bigger than all the rest, to pay for your comfortable retirement. It's something that every thief dreams about, and also the thing that they dread the most in the world. Because if there's one truism that every crook, scoundrel, and ne'er-do-well knows in their heart of hearts, it's this: It doesn't matter how good you are. It doesn't matter if you're the best thief in the whole world, silent as a shadow and quick as a breeze. When you go in for One Last Score, something always, always, always goes wrong. It didn't matter if you tried to play it safe or went after the Emperor's Crown Jewels. One Last Score never went as planned.

But none could resist the allure, and Revna was not exempt. So she started planning, sending out her feelers in the usual places, when one of her contacts got in touch with her with a job. It paid very well. Suspiciously well, in fact. That wasn't surprising. What was surprising was that none of her fellows had taken a swing at it.

Maybe she should have taken it as a bad sign, especially when she found out who the client was. Revna didn't have a lot of personal rules that she lived by, but one of them was this: Never, ever get involved with religion. True, lots of them had a lot of money to throw around, but there was always an extra layer of complication to the job when you threw religion into the mix.

Nevertheless, she found herself in the Temple of Mol Greta in the Republic of Obstinatus, a region whose population consisted mostly of goblinoids.

For being the main seat of worship of the goblins' principle deity, the temple was surprisingly humble, a large building made of rough-hewn stone. The only real embellishment was the statue standing at the top of the main altar, depicting a nude and hugely pregnant goblin woman with a sly grin.

It didn't look like much on the surface, but you never knew with goblins. They were clever, and Revna suspected that any humbleness on display was a carefully cultivated facade.

The figure that idly lounged in the front pew didn't look like a professional thief, which is exactly how a professional thief should look. She was a slim, red-furred kitsune woman - a race not commonly seen in this neck of the woods - dressed in a sensible linen shawl, idly fidgeting with the tip of her tail while she waited.

She didn't have long to wait as another figure joined her, this one short, fat, and green-skinned, dressed in a deep purple cassock, embroidered with an emblem depicting a stylized womb.

"You'd be High Priestess Gythi, then?" said Revna, sizing her up.

"I hope so, 'cause I'm wearing her clothes," she said, hopping up onto the seat next to Revna. "Thanks for coming. Wasn't sure anyone would bite." She didn't hold herself like a high priestess. She felt more like the madam of a high-class brothel.

"You put up a lot of coin. You have my attention."

Gythi chuckled. "How much do you know about Thistledown?"

Revna thought back for a moment. "Big elf city on the other side of the Tourmaline Sea. Known for its architecture and patisseries. Robbed a museum over there a few years ago."

Gythi gave this an approving nod. "It's also home to the Grand Basilica of Greatmother Ivias. Largest religious edifice on the whole continent. Very good domes."

"I hope you didn't bring me here to talk about domes."

The high priestess just gave her a sly smirk. "Very astute of you. The Church and Ivias and us have a bit of a... tense history, one might say, going all the way back to-"

Revna made a dismissive gesture. "I didn't come here for a history lesson, either. What do you want swiped?"

This got a bark of laughter out of the priestess. "Fair enough. Short version is, about a hundred years ago, during the conflicts at the time, a number of relics were looted from us. And despite us being ostensibly at peace with the elves now, the leaf-eared bastards won't give 'em back. There's one in particular that the Temple of Mol Greta dearly desires, and we're willing to pay handsomely to get it back. Ordinarily it'd be stuffed in some vault somewhere, but the Ivians are celebrating one of their holy days next week, one that only comes around once every ten years, and they'll have a number of sacred relics on display, including this." From the folds of her robes, the high priestess produced a little vellum scroll. "The festival starts on the Day of Dawning. The collection will be the least protected during the opening ceremonies."

Revna unfurled the scroll and made a thoughtful sound. "I know elves. They'll be very choosy about who they let into the city on holy days."

"Don't worry about that," said Gythi. "The Temple's people will get you into the city right under their upturned noses. All you have to do is nab the relic and get it back to my agent. We're prepared to give you one third of your payment up front, plus whatever you need for expenses, and the rest upon delivery. What do you say?"

Revna considered the priestess, and the job she was being offered to do. There was no way it was that simple. It never was, especially with religion in the mix. But it would be the most she'd ever been paid for a single job in her life. And she wasn't getting any younger.

This was it, then. Her One Last Score. She knew better to think things like "what could possibly go wrong", because when you started talking like that, you might as well buy your own manacles. But she only wanted one item, it was a simple in-and-out, and she didn't even have to transport it. She'd done more with less.

"I say you've got yourself a thief."

~*~

Getting into Thistledown was easier than Revna thought it was going to be. She was placed aboard a ship whose hold was stuffed with casks of top-quality fortified wines, which was being shipped directly to the festival. Tensions between goblins and elves may have been high, but the Ivians did not skimp when it came to stocking their parties, and when it came down to it, the vineyards of the goblin realms were without peer. Revna almost wanted to quit the job on the spot when she was told how she was going to be smuggled into Thistledown proper.

That was how, against all logic and reason, the thief found herself stuffed into an empty wine cask and loaded onto a palette. This was the sort of thing that you saw in street literature. There was no way they were going to get through customs like this. And ordinarily, this would have been true, if not for the fact that the ship's captain "forgot" a cask of finest port at the guards' station.

The high priestess had been right. Getting into the city was going to be the easy part, for once. Getting out wouldn't be an issue either; the ship was going to be on its way back to Obstinatus that evening, and all she would have to do is make sure that she was on it. Ships leaving the port were under far less scrutiny than those going into it, especially after a festival day, when everyone was thoroughly worn out from a long day of reveling.

The city was abuzz with preparations for the festival, and people from all over came to celebrate. Most of them couldn't care less about what was actually being celebrated, of course; any and all were welcome to partake, as long as they were willing to make a small contribution to the church's coffers. What this meant for Revna was that she would stand out even less than usual.

The Grand Basilica was the crown jewel of Thistledown, every inch a work of architectural art, and it was just as well that Revna couldn't care less about that sort of thing. It would have been a shame to lose time while admiring the majesty of the domes.

She was currently dressed in robes of undyed linen, the likes of which were commonly worn by the custodians of the church. They had been working overtime for days to get things ready for the festival, and as such, didn't look too closely at each-other. They were lightweight and loose-fitting things, perfect for concealing her thieving gear.

Getting onto the grounds of the Grand Basilica had been laughably easy. All she'd needed to do was keep her head down and walk purposefully, and the mop and bucket that she carried with her ensured that nobody asked pointed questions. Then it was just a matter of finding an unattended corner where she could be unobserved, which was simple enough with all of the nooks and crannies built into the outside of the church. And then she just needed to wait. A quick glance at a pocket watch told her that it wouldn't be long.

Things had been going smoothly so far. But you didn't relax when things were easy. That was when you had to be the most alert. That was when you got sloppy, and getting sloppy got you caught.

And then her watch hummed softly as it ticked over to the twelfth hour. Seconds later, the enormous bell in the Grand Basilica's tallest spire began to toll, signaling the official start of the festivities. That was Revna's cue to spring into action.

The first thing she did was don a pair of black velvet boots. Kitsune didn't typically wear shoes, but these were for special occasions.

A quick check of her surroundings confirmed that she remained unobserved. With that settled, jumped toward the wall and began to sprint up it, as easily as if she was walking across solid ground.

The church's archives, where the holy relics were to be displayed to the public once the opening ceremonies were complete, were on the top floor. Even with the enchanted footwear giving her perfect balance in defiance of gravity, it was a bit of a haul. But she needed to be quick. She could rest when the loot was in her hands.

She was panting when she finally made it to a window on the appropriate floor, pulling herself in and sinking down against the floor to compose herself. Using the boots always made her a bit lightheaded.

From another pocket, she withdrew a little pamphlet containing a map of the floor, intended for tourists. Not as good as a detailed floor plan, but for such short notice, it would do. After orienting herself, she slipped the boots off again and began to make her way through the winding corridors, her paws perfectly soundless on the cool marble floor.

The church was just as ostentatious inside as out, and she was able to mark her way by taking note of the distinct paintings, statues, and tapestries decorating the walls. She had a bit of a way to go, unfortunately. The archive was in the very center of the floor, and the Grand Basilica was one of those ancient buildings whose layout was probably intended to confuse potential invaders. But lucky for her, she was in no particular hurry to-

"...I mean, Dame Hyacinth's performance was fine, I guess?"

"Fine? Seriously? Were we at the same production?"

The important thing was to stay calm. Take stock. Size up your situation. Revna scanned the surroundings, and her gaze fell on a large carving of an Ivian paladin slaying some manner of demon. She tensed up slightly before springing on her feet, using the statue's head as leverage and wincing as she grabbed onto its very pointy helmet before pressing herself up against the ceiling, just in time for a pair of elves in guard uniforms to walk by.

"Look, she was perfectly adequate," said the shorter of the two, folding his arms. "But Dame Catalpa made the role of the Green Lady her own. How can you not compare them?"

"Not this again. Catalpa is overrated and you know it-"

Revna steadied her breath as the two guards paused for a moment, continuing their pointless conversation and trying to will them to go literally anywhere else.

Finally, the taller one sighed. "Forget it. What are we even doing here? Nobody's up here except for maybe a custodian or two, if that! Why do we have to miss the opening ceremony?"

"Look, we have a sacred duty to ensure that these hallowed halls are- hah, I can't even say that with a straight face. Yeah, I'm with you. It's busywork." He peered over his shoulder. "We've got half an hour before the ceremony concludes. How do you feel about getting railed in the chief steward's office?"

"Sounds great. What are we going to do for the other twenty-seven minutes?"

"Oh, I'll show you twenty-seven minutes!"

And with that, the two elves scampered off, giggling like schoolchildren as they vanished down the halls. Once she could no longer hear their footsteps, Revna counted to ten and let herself drop back down to the floor, shaking out her hand and cursing. The stupid helmet on the paladin had actually managed to draw blood.

"Right," she murmured to herself. "Job still needs doing. Focus, Revna."

She took a deep breath in and out to compose herself, checked the map one more time, and took off down the halls.

The archive proper wasn't much further. The door wasn't just unlocked, it was wide open, blocked only by a velvet rope.

"No way they're making things this easy for me," said Revna, pulling out her toolkit. "Not even Ivians could be this cocky." Regardless, she did her due diligence, pulling out a small vial of pearlescent liquid and uncapping it, and as it evaporated, a number of Old Elvish runes began to illuminate around the door's frame.

Oh, good. She would have been worried if it was that easy. It was a fairly simple invocation, as far as she could tell. She could spot a rune of music - probably some manner of alarm - as well as several runes of disruption, the core of a number of very nasty paralysis spells. And just for good measure, right at the end was a rune of pain, to make any would-be vandal regret all of their life choices until the guards arrived to haul them off.

Revna wasn't a practitioner herself, but powerful people always relied on magic to protect their goods, and learning how to get around it was a key skill. And the magic that was laid into these runes was extremely potent, but the engraver had made the rookie mistake of only invoking them in the threshold, not the frame itself.

She couldn't help but smile to herself as she pulled out a pouch and withdrew a handful of dark powder, made up of lodestone filings, various magic-repellent herbs, and other wonderful things and proceeded to rub it into the runes. It was almost a shame to destroy such fine work, but hopefully they would take a valuable lesson from this experience.

As she watched the luminous glyphs fizzle out with a faint popping noise, she hummed to herself as she hopped over the velvet rope and into the archive-turned-museum.

Everywhere she could see were display cases full of various relics of differing shape and size, and she couldn't help but pause to take it all in. She could spot a dwarven ceremonial axe, a lycanthrope moon-vessel, an ogrish story stone, and so many more. How many little churches from all around the world would have opened their coffers for her if they knew where she was right now?

As self-serving as she was, even Revna considered, just for a moment, the possibility of emptying the entire room.

Then she shrugged and got on with the job she was hired to do. Her target wasn't the centerpiece of the room. It wasn't even in a particularly noteworthy spot. It was just tucked away into a corner. And there it was, just as it appeared on the scroll that the high priestess had given her; a little clay figure depicting a very full-figured pregnant person, its features so abstract that it could have been any race. It was about the size of her fist, and the only adornment on it was a symbol painted on its belly, the same symbol that had been on the high priestess's robe.

It was rather plain compared to some of the other relics on display, but this was definitely it. The little placard on the case said 'Goblin-made fertility idol (date unknown), donated to the Church in the Year of the Upright Birch.'

Revna couldn't help but note that there was no word on how the person who made the "donation" had gotten their hands on it.

A quick examination of the case determined that there were no further wards or alarms on it, only a mundane lock. A good one, to be sure, but Revna made short work of it nevertheless. Honestly, it was a bit disappointing. The security was laughable, and considering how little attention was on the relic, they might not even notice that anything had been stolen until Revna was well on her way. She smiled to herself as she opened up the case and lifted it up to examine it.

Then she winced suddenly as something jolted down her arm, requiring her to brace herself against the wall as a wave of intense nausea had washed over her.

Revna started to swear under her breath as her head began to swim. She'd run into some well-crafted magical security before, but she'd never in all her years encountered something so perfectly concealed that it left no magical signature at all. Or had she just gotten cocky for the first and last time in her career and missed something obvious?

Revna had to clamp a hand over her mouth to keep from crying out as her stomach lurched, and for a moment, she feared she'd be puking her guts out. It was a worse-case scenario for her. Losing her lunch would leave a literal trail of evidence that even she would be hard-pressed to cover up. But the queasiness began to pass, only to replace itself with a sharp cramp deep in her guts. She regained her footing and her composure as she tried to figure out what was happening to her.

Then she groaned again as the cramps intensified, and they were now accompanied by a new sound. She whipped her head around to figure out what it was, and only when she looked down did she realize that it was the sound of fabric being stretched.

In the middle of her stolen robes, she could see a large bulge beginning to form, pressing out against the tight fabric. She'd made sure to acquire a disguise that fit loosely enough to let her conceal her tools, but it now felt uncomfortably tight around the middle. It looked like she had swallowed a melon whole. A very large melon.

"Oh, hells," she murmured, tugging at the straining robes to pull them open, confirming what she had already dreaded to be true. The bulge was her. Her belly had bloated out to many times its usual size. She couldn't imagine what kind of security measure would do this to a person. Why would they-

Then she looked down at the relic in her hand, a cold dread beginning to creep over her. Slowly, she turned it over, and sure enough, she saw a little mark on the underside. It was a little bit of her blood, from where she'd nicked her hand on the statue, and either her eyes weren't working right or the spot was starting to shrink, as if the relic was absorbing it.

Revna began to consider her options. Every thief knew that sometimes you had to cut your losses and run. That was the nature of the game. And it was looking awfully tempting. This was why you didn't mess about with religion. Strange things always happen when you put gods into the mix.

But she couldn't do that now. Not this time. This was going to be her One Last Score, and this cursed statue was going to pay for her retirement. So that meant business as usual. Get out of the church, get back to her contact, and most importantly, get the high priestess to fix whatever this thing was doing to her.

Her mind made up, she stowed the relic, closed up the display case, and made her way out of the room, making sure to reset the security measures along the way. Then it was just a matter of getting back to her egress point before the Church opened to the public in about... ten more minutes.

Simplicity itself.

Revna's keen sense of direction was always a boon, and she could typically retrace her steps without needing to do anything as crude as mark her way, even in a place as labyrinthine as this. But she barely made it halfway down the second corridor before she hit a snag.

Her stomach began to cramp once again, and she braced herself against an icon of the Greatmother herself as she tried her best to ride it out. To her shock and horror, she watched as the bulge beneath her robes began to grow outward once again, quickly surpassing the size of any melon Revna had ever seen in her life. By the time the spasm passed, the bump had doubled from the size it had been a moment prior. The relic felt heavier in her bag, somehow. What was it doing to her? Why was it making her gain weight?

Then she felt a little flutter in her stomach, different from the cramps she'd just felt, like something inside of her was starting to move. Curiously, she pressed a hand against her growing middle. It was too firm to just be fat. If she didn't know better, she'd almost swear she was...

She pulled out the relic and looked at it again, at the symbol painted on its round belly. The symbol of the goblins' most revered deity, Mol Greta. Mother of Creation, they called her. Bearer of All. She Who Birthed the World. And many other such epithets, all centered around the same theme.

"Gods above and below," cursed Revna. "I'm pregnant!"

She grumbled to herself and shoved the relic back in her pouch as she took off once again, though without much of her usual agility. The extra mass she now carried in front of her was throwing off her sense of balance. But despite the extra time she needed to take, she soon spotted the window where she'd made her entrance, and sweet freedom was now before her. Now all she needed to do was...

Revna bent double as another growth spurt hit her, and now she needed to muffle herself to stop from making even more noise as her belly began to expand once again. By the time it finally stopped, she looked like she was well overdue, possibly with a litter. But that didn't matter. She just needed to catch her breath, and then she could just throw on her boots, and-

It was all she could do to not scream as she realized the new complication in her plan. She could no longer reach her feet to put her boots on. And before she could even begin to formulate a way around this dilemma, the church's bells began to toll out the hour.

The opening ceremony was almost over. The halls would be flooded with people in minutes. She needed to move.

And move she did, waddling as fast as she could from corridor to corridor. She needed to compose herself, needed some time and space to breathe and figure out a new plan of attack, and more than anything else, she needed to not get caught.

Trying her damndest not to panic, she made a beeline for the first door with a lock she could find. The gods were on her side for once as she tried the knob and found it open. She quickly made her way inside and slammed the door as she found herself in a very large, ornate office, with a very large wooden desk, on top of which were a pair of naked elves, lying side by side with their clothes draped beneath them, as they passed a smoking pipe between them.

They looked up as they heard the door slam, and their eyes met Revna's for a horrible moment.

"I'm very sorry," said Revna, pitching her voice up slightly. "I was looking for the lavatory! These little scamps have been kicking me in the bladder, you know how it is!"

A long, painful moment stretched out between thief and guards, and Revna's heart stood still. This was it, she thought. I'm nicked.

Then the taller guard sighed.

"Wasn't I just telling you, Alder?" he said, gesturing at Revna."What's the world coming to when the Greatmother's own chosen have to work in a state like this? The Church needs a better maternity leave policy."

"Is this really time time, Rowan?" hissed the shorter one, giving his companion a sharp elbow in the ribs. "Okay, I know this looks bad, but-"

"What are you talking about?" said Revna, radiating innocence. "All I see here are two upstanding guardsmen making sure that the chief steward's office is secure on this very important day."

Both of them let out a heavy sigh.

"Greatmother bless you, sister," said Rowan. "Do you, um, need any help, or...?"

Revna considered her options for a moment. She could almost swear that she heard people beginning to file into the corridors.

"Well, as much as I hate to be a bother... could one of you help me get my boots back on, please? I can barely see my feet these days, much less reach them!"

"Happy to be of service, sister," said Alder, wrapping his coat around his waist for modesty's sake before sliding off the desk, and a moment later, Revna's boots were once again securely on her feet.

"Thank you so much," she said, patting him on the shoulder. Now she knew she could hear people outside, and while she was counting on people not to notice the relic was missing right away, she couldn't guarantee that. And she didn't think she could make it back without being seen, especially not in her state.

"Oh no," she gasped, putting her hands over her belly. "Oh, I don't think I'm going to make it! This is so embarrassing! It's been so hard and I don't want to wet myself again!"

Both of the guards' faces flushed pink as they looked frantically around the room. Rowan was the first to speak up.

"There's a potted fern in the corner," he said, gesturing.

"Really, Rowan?"

"Look, it's that or his tea mug!"

"I'll take it!" said Revna, scooting over to the fern. Which was, conveniently enough, right by the large window, presumably for maximum sun exposure. "I'm sorry, but could you just avert your eyes for a moment? I'll be as quick as I can!"

"Right, right, sorry," said Alder, turning to face the opposite wall and tugging hard on his partner's arm until he did the same.

"Thank you so much," said Revna. As silently as she could, she undid the latch on the window, opened it up, and while the two of them were staring very pointedly at the wall, she hopped up onto the ledge and let herself drop, her boots making purchase on the wall almost immediately.

Revna still couldn't move as quickly as she would have liked with her gravid gut swaying about, but that didn't matter at the moment. She let herself sigh in relief, but this was only step one. She still had to get back to the docks, and if the gods were feeling charitable, she'd be well on her way to Obstinatus before anyone started making connections.

She paused a moment to catch her breath as her feet touched the ground, and leaned against the wall for a moment so that her stomach could settle. But before long, she could feel it starting to lurch again, and she knew that she had to move. She had a feeling that her timetable was going to be a lot tighter than she'd initially surmised.

~*~

Initiate Glaz tapped her feet impatiently onto the deck of the ship. The sun was just starting to set, and the thief that the High Priestess had hired was supposed to be back by now. She tried her best not to worry, but it was very difficult. There was only so long she could linger before the dockers came 'round again, no matter how tipsy they would be, and now that their cargo of Elven silk was fully loaded, they didn't have much of an excuse to hang around.

The goblin nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw a heavily cloaked figure scurrying up the gangplank, and judging by the vulpine nose peeking out from under the hood, it was no elf.

"By Mol's massive mammaries, you're late," she hissed.

"You have no idea how right you are," groaned Revna. "Get the ship moving."

Glaz waved to a deckhand, and immediately they started to move. "What took you so long?" she asked. "Did you get the goods?"

"I got a lot more than that," snapped Revna, throwing off her cloak, and the goblin's jaw hit the deck as she saw what the thief was hiding underneath it.

In the time it had taken her to safely get from the church to the ship, she'd undergone several growth spurts. She had gone far past the level of overdue; her body now looked like it was at least two-thirds belly by volume. Her shirt had to be torn to accommodate it, and her pants had long since given up the ghost altogether, and every so often, there would be a little ripple across its surface as something inside of it wriggled about.

"...You didn't get your blood on the relic, did you?" said Glaz, looking worried.

"It would have been nice to know that this was a concern beforehand!" said Revna. "Now do something! Get rid of it!"

Glaz shook her head. "I can't get rid of it, thief. It's a baby. Several babies, by the look of things! You've invoked Mol Greta's benediction, and you'd best believe that she's a generous god!"

"Well, what am I supposed to do, then?" said Revna, gesticulating wildly. "I'm so bloated and full and sore all over and my back hurts and my tits hurt and my guts have been aching the whole way here and... and I..."

Revna let out a high-pitched yip as the sharpest cramp yet hit her, like she was being squeezed by a giant hand, and a moment later she felt something inside of her shift as, without warning, a massive gout of fluid gushed out from between her legs.

Slowly, Revna looked down at the spreading puddle she was standing in. Then she looked back up at the goblin, her eyes ablaze.

Glaz took a deep, steadying breath. "Right, we've got work to do. Erilk, get us cast off already! Phigsee, make up the biggest bed we have belowdecks and get some water boiled. And Rox... grab a mop and swab the deck."

All around her, goblins began to move, and Revna's head was spiraling as she was quickly ushered off by the initiate.

Fifteen minutes later, Revna was sitting upright on a pallet made of two beds pushed together, supported by every pillow the goblins could find, and completely nude as she huffed and puffed through a series of rapid and very intense contractions.

"This can't be happening!" she hissed, as Glaz offered her a cup of tea, which she gratefully chugged.

"It's happening whether you like it or not," said Glaz, patting her on the thigh. "You're lucky that as a disciple of Her Gravidness, I'm a trained midwife."

"I don't feel especially lucky right now," said Revna, her eyes narrowed.

Peering out from around her massive middle, the goblin just smiled at her. "You should. As bad as you feel right now, trust me when I say it would be even worse if not for Her touch. Now, I think you're just about ready, so when you feel the urge to push, let 'er rip."

Sure enough, Revna had been keenly aware of a pressure that was building up inside of her, and hadn't quite been able to put a word to it until Glaz had said the word "push". And now that she had, Revna could think of nothing else. So she gripped the sides of her ersatz birthing bed, spread her legs as wide as she could, and grit her teeth as she started to bear down.

And as expected, it hurt. She could feel her body starting to stretch and strain as the first of gods knew how many babies began their journey out of her body. But strangely enough, it did not hurt as badly as she had dreaded it would. There was pain, yes, but a bit of something else, too, something that encouraged her. And so she did, crying out into the night as she pushed and pushed, feeling her nethers burn as they opened up, but she kept up her efforts, until a high-pitched squeal filled the air.

"There's one down," said Glaz, who now had a newly born kit wriggling in her hands. And as Revna saw it, she suddenly felt breathless.

"That's... my baby?"

"Sure is. Don't get too lost in the moment yet. If I'm not mistaken, there's more to come."

And sure enough, Revna soon felt her muscles began to squeeze once again, and knew that her ordeal had only begun.

~*~

By the time things had settled down, Revna was at rest with four beautiful kits in her arms, being tended to by Glaz. On her bedside table, there sat the root of her troubles. And somehow, despite its clay features being perfectly blank, she got the sense that it was... amused.

Well, she could laugh it up. At the end of the day, she got through her One Last Score alive and well, and who could ask for more than that?

That was rhetorical, of course. Revna could and would ask for more. That high priestess owed her a hefty bonus, by her reckoning, and she was going to need it. After all, she had some extra mouths to feed.