The Birth

It had started in the early ahns of morning, a nagging cramp in the center of her back, but the pain had quickly begun to blossom outwards, and four ahns later Astraea was in the full throttle of labor. Lucian had been sent for before the rays of lar torvis had ever touched the edge of camp, as soon as she had realized that Mia was about to make her descent into a chaotic and unknown world.

Charm had awoken the moment that Astraea had first cried out in pain and frustration, bare feet tapping over the floor of Maayan's wagon, one hand lifted to the shoulder of her aunt in gentle nudge. "It's time."

The wind beyond the shuttered window of Astraea's room had ceased to blow, an eerie silence cocooning around the inn in a heavy pall, the air thick with panting whimpers, with tension and obscure fear.

Physician scrambled to ready cloths and instruments and with the first sign of crowning had demanded instructions be followed. "Push!" The top of head baby's head, a mass of damp darkness was forced forward, shoulders soon to follow, the healthy wail of a child heard almost instantly, ruddy arms and legs flailing in unsure distress at being expelled from the comforting warmth and safety of mother's womb.

The birth had been an easy one, all things considered, and once the smallest Simon's cord was cut and she was examined and swaddled, the child was handed over to her father so that he could count fingers and toes and be the first to bond with the daughter that he had wished for.