Airel - Aaron Patterson [18]
The powerful man cocked his head when he heard a woman’s pathetic cry escape from the hut behind him. He turned, walking toward the rough door, his easy strides giving him an air of self-assurance. He ducked inside and lashed the door shut with a leather strap.
The one-room hut was drafty, even with the door shut. Cold air pushed its way through cracks into the room. A makeshift bed sat in the corner and a fire crackled in the center of the room where it jumped and leaped, fighting to displace the cold with its warmth.
An uncommonly beautiful woman lay in the bed, in labor with child. She was covered with a blanket made of skins. Her face was twisted in pain, but even in her anguish she was stunning. The fire filled the room with an orange light that danced off the walls.
The man pushed the hood from his head and leaned down, placing a gentle kiss on the beautiful woman’s cheek. His wife forced a smile, then arched her back and bit her lower lip as another contraction wracked her body. The contractions were getting stronger and closer together. The baby would soon arrive. All the pain of labor would be forgotten, if only for a little while.
Taking a black pot from the fire, he placed it next to where she lay and let his coat fall to the floor. He wore rough hand-stitched leather pants with a white woven shirt that tied at the chest. His skin was hard and stony.
Even in the dim light, faintly visible markings could be seen on his forearms and on the side of his neck, winding their way in and out of his skin. They appeared to be tattoos, but were more like a birthmark. They appeared in the firelight and disappeared with the shadows.
The man took a cool piece of cloth, placed it on his wife’s forehead and smiled with concern hidden behind dark eyes.
He hummed a soft melody and worked with skilled hands, tearing strips of warm cloth with which to wrap the baby when she came. She…he had a feeling the baby would be a girl. Something deep inside told him that she would be special, too. He longed for a daughter, longed for the child to be a girl. His wife cried out again and looked directly into his eyes. He knew: it was time.
Pulling the blankets back, he waited as she pushed with a shattering scream. The wind answered her with a burst, shaking the room. She was in her second day of labor and the effort and strain on her body was beginning to show as her strength faded. He wondered how much longer she could endure, but he said nothing, praying for it to finally end for her sake.
She hunched, pushing so hard that she could not breathe for a moment. Then…cries… sweet, soft cries. The baby’s voice filled the small hut as mother and father looked into each other’s eyes, smiling. The baby looked impossibly small in his huge arms. He gently wrapped her in warm cloths, giving her to his exhausted wife.
It was a girl! She was beautiful, with her mother’s dark wispy hair and the same dark eyes as her father. She ate for the very first time, then the little family gathered together under the warm blankets by the fire to sleep, glowing with the spark and joy of new life.
For that one night in their little world, everything was perfect.
Chapter X
He stood out against the morning sunrise. The tears that fell from his eyes took hold of the sunlight and sparkled like crystal. Looking down at the bundle in his arms, he pulled the smooth woolskin blanket back and looked into his daughter’s eyes. She was perfect. Her skin reminded him of his beloved bride. It was smooth and olive-colored. His grief came in a fresh and powerful wave again. Now she had her place amongst the stars.
He knew that even in his own village, he was an outsider. He still remembered how his kind used to be part of a civilization, a culture, a society. But they had been required to disperse, separate and scatter—because of the Brotherhood.
They harbored the deepest hatred for anyone or anything different from them. They would hunt down and destroy anyone who resisted them.