Blood is Thicker Than Mist

Chapter 4

The woman stood on the caldera's rim and her eyes looked out as far as they could see through the veil of mist over the island and blanketing the sea. In her arms was a well-wrapped bundle that she bounced slightly as she waited and watched, and watched and waited. She stood there for some time as if expecting someone to show but no one came. She muttered a curse under her breath and started down the narrow stone path to the Burrows below. The Land of Water was always one consumed by chill from its geographic location and its mists. Because of that, her fingers already prickled through her gloves and she was certain that the heavily-bundled infant in her arms would hardly be able to remain asleep much longer.

She quietly crossed the caldera's bottom and walked inside the Burrows. Though several homes had been built on the island, the Burrows was where the majority of the surviving residents lived. Their numbers had been so thinned from the previous attacks that it would be simple to house everyone in the underground rooms but there were still those who wanted their own space, particularly those who had lost loved ones in the slaughter.

She sighed and cracked open the door of the second nursery– where children between the ages of six and ten slept– and observed for just a moment to be sure that they were sleeping soundly. Some of them still had nightmares from the last raid, after all, and it was always a relief to see them get a good night's rest. She let out a contented sigh and moved along to check on the first nursery– where the youngest children slept– and then continued to a room in the back.

During the day, the children too young to be put to work came to this room to play. They had few toys to share but they were content. They knew no other way of life, which brought them a blissful ignorance, but the ache in the chests of the mothers grew by the day to see how comfortable they were with their lives. She gently rested the quiet bundle on old cushions and set to cleaning the blocks– carved and polished shards of volcanic rock– to arrange them neatly in the corner. After a quick sweep of the smooth rock floor she picked up the child and bounced him in her arms. Normally she would simply go to her bed at this late hour but she had far too much on her mind. As she stared at the small, sleeping face, she couldn't help but wonder about this mysterious blond-haired child that had been brought to her.

She stifled a yawn and decided finally to sleep. She drew in a sharp gasp and her heart skipped a beat at the shadowy figure that stood in the doorway. She recognized the figure of course, but gods , she had not heard his approach at all. After she had recovered from her initial fright, she frowned slightly and watched as he took a step into the room. She blinked in surprise at his blunt words and she could only gape.

" What?" She had heard him, but she struggled to believe the audacity of his statement.

"I'm here for the child." Zabuza repeated irritably. He did not like to repeat himself, and he had thought it was something one could easily glean from his demeanor. He took another step into the dark room and held out his hand for the bundle.

"I... You..." The woman stepped back and glared at him. "Y-You have no right to come here and demand that! You left this child here with me!"

"I said," Zabuza's brows furrowed. "That I would return for it."

She turned her body and held the baby close. "Why should I turn this child over to you? You've been gone so long that I thought you had abandoned the poor thing. For another thing, you're hardly older than a child yourself. I can't, in good conscience, allow someone like you to raise him. He wouldn't last a week."

"Give it to me." Zabuza kept his hand out and clenched his teeth.

"What are you going to do, Demon? Kill me and take this child from my cold arms?" She took several steps back. "This child would be better off living here with us."