His hands, calloused yet tender, moved with love that made her heart ache. His skin, deep as ebony under the moonlight, contrasted against her delicate porcelain beauty like night against dawn. Tahla felt nothing but true contentment. She was held close, bodies rocking to the night's song, hearts racing, calling each other to bliss.

"We cannot be together..."

Sweet abandon, picking up again from where they ceased. The night's song drawing to a close as dawn approached. The sun streamed into the room. Clothes shredded, strewn about. Their scents filled the air.

"A runt is not fit to rule..."

"Varek," the whisper on her lips died with his hands covering them. He refused to taste them. They would only weaken his resolve.

"You will only tarnish my name..."

He stood, moved away. The sun graced him, showing him in all his glory.

"You will only weaken us all...you are a liability to us...to me."

"Leave."

Her eyes widened. She sat quickly, forgetting her state of undress. She stood before him. "Leave? Va-" Her hand had no time to reach his face when he held on and pushed it away.

"I refuse your hand. I reject your bond."

"Varek...have I done something—"

"You are weak."

"Varek..."

His jaw clenched, the faintest flicker of hesitation in his eyes before they hardened once more. "Leave before anyone sees you!" he hissed in her face.

Her chest tightened, every breath a heavy weight from his words as if she were being crushed from within. Her knees weakened the farther he moved until they hit the ground.

They had just been in each other's arms.

"You mean nothing to me."

Darkness clouded her eyes, body falling into an endless abyss.

She welcomed it.

The darkness.

A place where her shattered soul could hide.

It would be her only home.

***

"You're quite deep in territory that doesn't belong to you." Tahla startled. She turned to the voice. A man was seated on a tree stump. He was dirty and disheveled, his hands busy as they sharpened wood with a sharp blade. Her eyes fixed on his weapons, body shaken with fear, hands trembling over her swollen stomach.

"I'm only passing. I did not mean to intrude—"

"Yet here you are...you are trespassing on my territory," he chuckled menacingly. There was movement behind the man, and Tahla could see a few other rogues standing, hidden behind the trees. They watched and listened in apprehension. Nobody moved or dared speak up. She felt their fear. The fear of their leader. "You look like you're far away from home." The man toyed with the blade in one hand, the sharpened wood sat idle in the other. He stood. "I don't take kindly to pack mules!"

Tahla's heart beat in her ears. "I—I'm not part of a pack—"

"That's not what I smell, Princess." His eyes traveled to her stomach. She placed her hands over it protectively, the hairs on her neck and arms standing. Her child was in danger. "You're all alone, in rogue territory. We wouldn't want anything happening to the babe." He licked his lips, eyes burning, still caught watching her stomach. His actions only heightened her fear.

She had never hunted for game, let alone killed a man, but she was ready to risk it all for her child. "I will leave," she said. She shook where she stood, but kept her face stoic. "I did not mean to trespass."

"A bit too late there, Princess." His eyes met hers. "Been searching for another mate, you see. The last one didn't quite suit my tastes. But you..." His eyes roamed the expanse of her body. "You will do just nicely." His eyes returned to her hands cradling the unborn child. "But that just won't do." He tsked.

He stepped toward her, looming over her and casting her in his shadow. Her heartbeat gave away her fear, and he knew it all too well. The people in the back watched with horror, unable to help for fear of their own lives.

"I'll make it as painless as possible," he said and immediately lunged at her, tackling her to the ground.

Tahla's blood raced. Her skin scraped against the ground and she bled. She kicked with all her might until she was released. She heard his growl, quick to find her footing and run through the trees. She heard bones crack behind her and knew her race would soon be over. Her breaths were labored, painful. Pain rocked her when he tackled her to the ground again. She cried out, her belly pressed against the ground.

Relying on her surroundings, she picked a heavy rock closest to her and knocked it against the wolf's head, she hit his eye, blinding it and freeing herself. She heaved herself up quickly and ran in circles, unable to get her bearings.

The wolf shook its head, caught off guard by the sheer force used to knock the stone into his eye. He could see nothing but red from it. He depended on the other, laying chase on the poor woman again.

Heavy footfalls caused Tahla to move as fast as she could. Then she caught something glistening in the grass. She put all her might into her run, reaching the discarded blade in time to sink it into the wolf's chest as he descended on her again.

The rogues watched in utter disbelief as their leader fell. Tahla breathed heavily, hands clutching her belly before she screamed in agony. The people were quick to leave their hiding places, lifting the woman and bringing her to their tents.

Then came her new strength. Her new beginning after her battle and hardship. A new life after death.

Tahla named her son Zoran.