Dragn

Morse

It was time. She'd fought against it for so long and she'd run out of excuses to stay away. Watching shadows slowly roll across the mountains, warping and twisting as the light carried on, was a pleasant distraction. All too soon she hears her name called and has to step into the unknown.

When she opened the door, she wished she'd have thought to prepare herself. The medic and the mage are waiting patiently but she knows she's got a look on her face far from pleasant. Still, she can't be bothered to school her face to match her feelings. The faces were for them, but the feelings were for her, she had every intention of keeping them to herself. So she lays herself out on the table, adjusts her loose tunic with fidgety fingers and tries not to burn with the questions they ask. They poke and prod and invade until she can hardly refrain from punching the mage straight in the jaw. Hardly.

And then it's over and she's sitting up on the table and they're cheerful and warm with hands on her shoulders. It's real. It's real and she can't bring herself to be mad. Scared, yes, she so scared she feels herself shake with the effort to keep the tears at bay until the door is closed again, but not upset.

She never thought she'd bring another life into this world. Never thought it possible. But it's been made possible. Maybe some good can come from change after all.