The later hints of sunlight brushed against the frosted edges of the Whisperwood Forest, casting long, pale shadows across the village. Inside Kael and Erynn's modest home, the air was thick with anticipation—the kind that made every sound feel amplified. The crackle of the hearth, the faint whistle of wind through the cracks in the wooden walls—it all seemed louder, sharper, more present.
Kael stood by the hearth, his hands resting on the back of a chair. His broad frame cast a long shadow on the floor as he stared into the fire. The warmth did little to ease the tension in his chest. Behind him, Erynn lay on the straw mattress, her breaths measured, her gaze distant.
The firelight flickered over her face, illuminating the sheen of sweat on her brow. Despite the strain visible in her features, there was a calmness about her, an unspoken resolve that Kael both admired and envied.
"How are you holding up?" he asked without turning, his voice steady but low.
Erynn exhaled softly, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "I've been through worse," she murmured, her voice tinged with tired humor.
Kael turned at that, his lips twitching into a brief, reluctant smile. "You'd say that even if the house was falling down around you."
Erynn chuckled faintly, though the sound was short-lived as her fingers pressed against her belly. Her gaze softened as she looked down. "He's restless," she said quietly.
Kael moved closer, kneeling beside her. He placed a hand on hers, his calloused fingers careful. "He'll be here soon," he said, though the words felt heavier than he intended.
---
The frost-covered ground crunched under Mari's boots as she hurried along the winding path toward Kael and Erynn's home. The midwife had been summoned in the dead of night by one of the village's younger boys, who had pounded on her door until she'd roused. His words had been rushed, almost incoherent, but the urgency in his tone was unmistakable. Within minutes, Mari had packed her satchel and set off into the cold.
Her worn satchel bounced against her side as she walked, filled with linen, herbs, and the tools of her trade. The lantern in her hand cast a flickering golden light that danced against the frost-coated pines. Mari's breath came in steady puffs of condensation, her steps brisk despite her years. She was a woman of endurance, her stout frame and unshakable demeanor a comfort to many in the village.
As she crested the small rise that marked the edge of Kael's property, the warm glow of firelight from the windows greeted her. She spotted Kael's silhouette near the doorway, his broad shoulders tense as he scanned the path. His eyes found her almost immediately, relief flickering across his face as he stepped forward.
"You made good time," Kael said, his voice low but grateful.
Mari adjusted the lantern in her hand, giving him a pointed look. "Would've been faster if that boy hadn't spent half the time fumbling for his words."
Kael's lips twitched into a faint smile. "He's young."
Mari snorted softly but didn't argue. "How's Erynn?"
"She's holding on," Kael said, stepping aside to let her pass. "Thanks for coming."
Mari nodded once, stepping into the house and setting her lantern on the small wooden table. The warmth of the fire greeted her, the scent of pine mingling with the earthy aroma of burning wood. She removed her thick woolen cloak, revealing a practical tunic and thick skirts beneath. Her movements were quick and efficient, the ease of someone who had delivered more children than she could count.
She approached Erynn, her sharp gaze softening slightly. "You're early," Mari observed, her tone factual but not unkind.
Erynn managed a faint smile. "Not by much."
Mari knelt beside her, her practiced hands moving with precision as she began her assessment. Kael hovered nearby, his presence solid but unobtrusive. The midwife glanced up briefly, her expression unreadable. "You're doing fine," she said, her voice steady. "But this might take a while."
Kael exhaled slowly, his shoulders relaxing marginally. He moved back to the hearth, brushing his hand against the hilt of his knife as he leaned against the wall. The rhythmic sounds of Mari's work filled the room—water being poured, linens being prepared, soft murmurs of reassurance.
---
Time crawled. The fire burned low, the wood cracking intermittently as the flames consumed it. Outside, the village remained still, the frost thickening as the early morning light cast long shadows against the trees.
Erynn's breathing grew heavier, her grip on the mattress tightening with each contraction. Kael stayed close, his hand enveloping hers, his calm exterior masking the storm of worry within.
"You're doing well," Mari said, her voice cutting through the tense silence. She didn't look up from her work, her hands steady. "Just keep breathing."
Erynn nodded faintly, her face pale but resolute. She had always been composed, even in the face of difficulty, but Kael could see the strain in her features. He tightened his grip on her hand, his jaw clenching as he watched her endure.
The hours stretched, marked only by the occasional crackle of the fire and the faint, rhythmic sound of Erynn's breaths. The world outside faded, leaving only the small, dimly lit room and the weight of the moment.
---
As the first rays of sunlight broke through the window, the silence inside the house shattered. A cry—sharp, powerful, and unrelenting—filled the room. It was louder than Kael had expected, echoing off the wooden walls and startling even Mari.
The midwife moved quickly, her hands deft as she wrapped the newborn in a clean linen cloth. She stood for a moment, her brow furrowing as she glanced down at the child. There was something in her expression that Kael couldn't place—curiosity, perhaps, or caution.
"It's a boy," Mari said finally, her voice soft but measured. "And he's… unique."
Kael approached immediately, his heart pounding. Erynn's tired smile grew as Mari placed the bundle in her arms. She cradled him close, her fingers brushing against his tiny face. For a moment, the room felt lighter, the tension giving way to quiet wonder.
But the peace didn't last.
The baby's hand emerged from the blanket, his tiny fingers curling around Erynn's thumb. Her breath hitched as his grip tightened, far stronger than it should have been. Kael's eyes narrowed as he watched her wince.
"Let me see," he said quickly, his voice low. He knelt beside her, carefully prying the baby's fingers loose. The pressure was surprising—firm, deliberate, almost unyielding.
Mari stepped closer, her sharp eyes fixed on the child. "That's not something you see every day," she muttered, her tone cautious.
The baby let out another cry, sharper this time. It reverberated through the room, an almost physical force that left Kael and Mari momentarily stunned. Erynn held him closer, her expression a mixture of love and unease.
Kael stood slowly, his jaw tightening. "We'll call him Rynar," Erynn said softly, her voice trembling slightly.
---
Later that morning, as the fire burned low and the frost began to melt, Kael and Erynn sat in silence. Rynar rested quietly in her arms, his small chest rising and falling with steady breaths. Mari packed her satchel, her movements slower than usual. She hesitated at the door, her hand resting on the frame.
"Kael," she said finally, her tone careful. "You might want to speak to Aldric."
Kael's brow furrowed. "Why?"
Mari adjusted her grip on the satchel. "I've delivered a lot of babies in this village. None of them… none of them have ever been like him."
Kael's jaw tightened, but he nodded. As Mari stepped out into the crisp morning air, the door creaked shut behind her. He turned back to Erynn, his gaze lingering on her and the child in her arms. She met his eyes, her expression soft but weary.
"What do you think Aldric will say?" she asked quietly.
Kael exhaled slowly, his shoulders slumping. "I don't know. But we'll find out."