All is Found

All is Lost

(A\N: Something I wrote a while ago. I don't know if I'll continue this story or not. Hope you enjoy!!)

(Nessa's POV)

The chill of the full moon pressed against my skin, a familiar comfort after a year of relentless grief. It had been a year since our little Luna succumbed to a fever. A whole year since our world cracked open and the warmth poured from our family. My husband Hawthorne withdrew into himself. He became a shadow of a strong man who once sang lullabies to our daughter. The small manor was cold, echoing with ghostly laughter that no longer existed. 

Tonight, I ventured into the small nearby town.  Not to shop of course, just to wander and breath the crisp clean air. I was almost tranced by the stars up above. Suddenly, harsh cries pierced the silence.  I snapped back to reality, I followed the sound, a sharp ping of my natural instincts bore from the ache in my chest. The cries led me into a small alley. The place was dark, sadly littered with discarded papers and stench of decaying food. I sniffed around. There nestled between two overflowing bins, laid a bundle swathe of blankets. I gently came closer, gently moving the blankets-a whimpering sound now broke through. 

It was a small baby boy. Such a fragile thing wrapped in tattered blanket. His green eyes were wide with fear, yet curiosity-he finally stopped crying. Before scooping him up, I wandered a bit to make sure no one was around. It seemed like no one was going to claim him. My heart began to ache, yet this wasn't an "ache" of pain but more of a bloom of hope. I then scooped him up, his warmth seeped through my frosty skin. He stared at me; his tiny hand reached out to touch my face. It all felt odd, it was unusual for humans to abandon their young.  Especially in a dirty place like an alley. I searched around one last time for any relatives. The sight of it all shattered the icy grip of my grief. I brought him back to the manor. Luckily, Hawthorne was still sound asleep. The poor baby was stinky, I had to wash and diaper him before showing my husband. I know he would be resistant, yet I couldn't just leave the poor thing to die alone and cold. 

"Hawthorne..." I whispered, nudging him awake. He blinked; his gaze lost in the shadowy room. "Look what I found..." I whispered a bit louder, laying the baby gently into his arms. 

The tiny baby nestled against him. The quiet thrum of his heartbeat a fragile pulse against his chest. He held the baby, his face masked in confusion. The stench was definitely human. "Where?" His voice was rough, unfazed. 

"I found him in the alley." I replied. "He was alone, covered in dirty tattered blankets." I saw Hawthorne's gaze lingered on the baby's face, on the dark soft downy dark hair and his delicate features. I saw a flicker of recognition in his eyes, a ghost of the joy they once lost. 

"We can't keep him." His voice grew soft. "You need to take him back." They both knew it was about Luna. 

I gasped. "If I take him back, he'll die..." 

Hawthorne then shuffled the baby back into my hands, as he arose. Now putting a purple silk like robe. "That's not our problem. Obviously, something is wrong with him, if his parents dumped him in a dirty alley." His voice deep and low. 

I grew frustrated. "Does he look diseased and dangerous to you!" He then barred his fangs and snarled, now frightening the baby a bit. He didn't answer, his gaze locked on me. The tiny hand reached out, barely touching Hawthorne's cheek, he then flinched. 

He sighed. "Was he alone?"

I swiftly answered. "Yes..." 

His voice now gruff. "You're absolutely sure, no one was looking for him. 

"Yes..." I repeat, then sighed. "No one came to claim him." 

He then sat at a small office like desk, the laptop opened. "Fine, he can stay. I'll send word to Dr. Meijer, so she can examine and document possible adoption." He quickly typed and sent a small email. 

My face lit with joy. "I know, he'll make a good addition." 

Hawthorne glared slightly at me. "Nessa, I said he can stay. That doesn't make him my child." He disappeared into the kitchen to eat. 

I then took him to the Nursery, as soft light of dawn bathed the room. I hummed placing him into the crib. I decided to call him "Stolas", after my late father. The road ahead was uncertain. Stolas and his innocent smiles brought a new light into our world. He'll never replace Luna, but a fragile bridge over the chasm of loss. He held the promise of a new dawn.