The night air was still, punctuated only by the occasional groan of the woman on the bed.
The fire danced along the curve of her belly and glinted off of the sweat that beaded on her forehead.
She gritted her teeth as the fire flickered low. Her narrow hips were not made for childbirth. Excruciating pain burst through her as another contraction wreaked havoc on her body. The woman finally screamed, and a thin high cry joined hers.
She scrabbled to reach the baby and turned her over. In the light of the barely glowing embers she studied the baby's back.
She had the birthmark.
It was like the book had said.
The door of the cottage slammed open, sending a gust of wind swirling around the room. The silhoutte of a woman was barely visible against the star spangled night.
"Please," Begged the woman on the bed. "Take her Mildred. Please." Her voice cracked on the last word. Desperation was evident in the womans voice as her life bled away. The womans heart was heavy, as she knew that she would never pass on her knowledge or love to her daughter.
The woman lurched upright and thrust the now wrapped baby into her sister's arms, before slumping back onto the now bloodstained bed.
The embers of the fire spluttered, sending out a shower of sparks.
"Her name..." Whispered the woman on the bed. "Her name is....." Her breaths rattled in her chest. "Her name is Raven."
The second woman looked coldly at the corpse on the bed. Her eyes were bright with fever, her hair matted and cheeks flushed with false life. She regarded the child in her arms with disdain. "Raven!" She scoffed. What a ridiculous name."
She turned the child this way and that.
"I shall call it..... Elizabeth." She declared.
YOU ARE READING
The Green Mile
FantasyElizabeth's mother died on a cold winter night, minutes after giving birth to a baby girl. Her daughter was born with a birthmark of a wyrm, the one that had terrified the village. After 75 years of abductions and brutal murders, the village is supe...
