my sister come back to me.
But she’s still. She’s silent.
Don’t let me be too late .
Luke picks up the knife and cuts the cord. I can’t move, I can only stare and hope something will happen. He gathers up a bundle of clean rags and takes the baby from me, wrapping her in his strong arms, covering every inch of her with his warmth. His large hands rub her back, her belly, patting and soothing, cooing with words to encourage her to open her eyes, to breathe, anything.
Urgency fills me and my hands join his, making warm circles on her tiny back, my voice calling her to us, “Come, now, Little One. It’s time to come home.”
And I know, I sense it. My magic, my wishing, it flicks at the air when my hand touches Luke’s. It takes form, our hopes together finding power and, for once, my wishing brings a blessing. A soul fills the space left behind by Becca and Mamma. A delicate life, moves beneath our hands and out bursts a gasp and a cough and a loud scream.
I’ve never heard anything so beautiful.
PART FIVE
Luke takes Becca’s shell away to the same place where I put Mamma to rest. He says, Becca took him there, told him she wanted to sleep with Mamma in the trees if she flew away when the baby came. She never told me about her fear. She didn’t want me to worry. She loved me.
I don’t say goodbye, not yet. I sit with the new life in my arms and forget about the blood around me, the pain of the night. I look into the wide brown eyes and see my salvation, I watch in wonder at the tiny fists beating at the air, I listen to her cries like it’s the song I’ve been trying to hear my whole life.
I don’t see those men in her. I don’t see Hunt.
All I see is a little angel, come to save me and make everything new.
I can’t look away, I can’t put her down to do anything in reality. I can only hold her, smell her, listen to her tiny sighs.
Luke helps us to the chair beside the fire and then cleans up the blood. He moves around me and when I eventually look up it’s like nothing happened at all. Like Becca just walked out to go fetch water. She’ll be back any second.
The day passes in silence. When darkness falls I move to the pallet and nestle the baby beside me. Luke lies on the other side and we watch her, we touch her cheeks, her chubby arms, and live in Heaven for a moment.
*
Luke leaves the next day to go down the mountain and see if he can trade some skins for more supplies and a goat for the babe’s milk.
There’s a part of me—what feels like an ancient part of me—that wonders if he’ll come back at all. Will he keep walking until he finds green things again, a girl who can satisfy him, a home without ghosts and shadows? I can’t imagine him not here, though. He’s a part of this forest now. Part of this shack. So, I make myself imagine he’s gone hunting. I tell the babe he’ll be walking through the door any second, returning to us, with his wide, easy grin and emerald eyes.
I almost think I’m dreaming when I hear something outside the next morning. I go to the door and see him leading a small grey beast into the barn. He waves hello and something inside me melts into mush. I want to bound up to him, clapping my mittens, and wrap him in a hug. Becca would’ve done that.
But instead I lift my hand to wave back.
The babe thrives on the goat’s milk. She grows pink and plump after only two weeks. Luke sits with her when I’ll release her, and tells her stories of knights and dragons and fills the small shack with his male voice every night. I sit beside them and listen in rapt amazement, wondering how his mind can imagine such magical things.
“Does the prince find a way into the castle?” I ask one night when he’s telling a tale about a girl cursed to sleep forever. She was locked in a dark castle, surrounded by thorny vines, with a dragon guarding the door. Winter shrouded the air in fog and snow, and no one could reach her. The
But she’s still. She’s silent.
Don’t let me be too late .
Luke picks up the knife and cuts the cord. I can’t move, I can only stare and hope something will happen. He gathers up a bundle of clean rags and takes the baby from me, wrapping her in his strong arms, covering every inch of her with his warmth. His large hands rub her back, her belly, patting and soothing, cooing with words to encourage her to open her eyes, to breathe, anything.
Urgency fills me and my hands join his, making warm circles on her tiny back, my voice calling her to us, “Come, now, Little One. It’s time to come home.”
And I know, I sense it. My magic, my wishing, it flicks at the air when my hand touches Luke’s. It takes form, our hopes together finding power and, for once, my wishing brings a blessing. A soul fills the space left behind by Becca and Mamma. A delicate life, moves beneath our hands and out bursts a gasp and a cough and a loud scream.
I’ve never heard anything so beautiful.
PART FIVE
Luke takes Becca’s shell away to the same place where I put Mamma to rest. He says, Becca took him there, told him she wanted to sleep with Mamma in the trees if she flew away when the baby came. She never told me about her fear. She didn’t want me to worry. She loved me.
I don’t say goodbye, not yet. I sit with the new life in my arms and forget about the blood around me, the pain of the night. I look into the wide brown eyes and see my salvation, I watch in wonder at the tiny fists beating at the air, I listen to her cries like it’s the song I’ve been trying to hear my whole life.
I don’t see those men in her. I don’t see Hunt.
All I see is a little angel, come to save me and make everything new.
I can’t look away, I can’t put her down to do anything in reality. I can only hold her, smell her, listen to her tiny sighs.
Luke helps us to the chair beside the fire and then cleans up the blood. He moves around me and when I eventually look up it’s like nothing happened at all. Like Becca just walked out to go fetch water. She’ll be back any second.
The day passes in silence. When darkness falls I move to the pallet and nestle the baby beside me. Luke lies on the other side and we watch her, we touch her cheeks, her chubby arms, and live in Heaven for a moment.
*
Luke leaves the next day to go down the mountain and see if he can trade some skins for more supplies and a goat for the babe’s milk.
There’s a part of me—what feels like an ancient part of me—that wonders if he’ll come back at all. Will he keep walking until he finds green things again, a girl who can satisfy him, a home without ghosts and shadows? I can’t imagine him not here, though. He’s a part of this forest now. Part of this shack. So, I make myself imagine he’s gone hunting. I tell the babe he’ll be walking through the door any second, returning to us, with his wide, easy grin and emerald eyes.
I almost think I’m dreaming when I hear something outside the next morning. I go to the door and see him leading a small grey beast into the barn. He waves hello and something inside me melts into mush. I want to bound up to him, clapping my mittens, and wrap him in a hug. Becca would’ve done that.
But instead I lift my hand to wave back.
The babe thrives on the goat’s milk. She grows pink and plump after only two weeks. Luke sits with her when I’ll release her, and tells her stories of knights and dragons and fills the small shack with his male voice every night. I sit beside them and listen in rapt amazement, wondering how his mind can imagine such magical things.
“Does the prince find a way into the castle?” I ask one night when he’s telling a tale about a girl cursed to sleep forever. She was locked in a dark castle, surrounded by thorny vines, with a dragon guarding the door. Winter shrouded the air in fog and snow, and no one could reach her. The
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