The Wilderbeast Trials

Prologue

"Argghhhhhhh!"

The scream rang out in the moggy air. The midwife rushed to the bedside, her eyes anxious.

"Hush, it's alright, take deep breaths..." The midwife had been called out to the simple, four-roomed house specially. She normally didn't do trips like this for the 'common' people, but the father had done a favour for the hospital once, long ago, and this was his repayment.

"You're doing just fine," she soothed the gasping woman. Woman? This was just a girl, only just past 20.

Already far into labour, the girl cried for breath, trying to focus. She concentrated through the pain.

"Arggggggh!"

The baby slipped from its mother's womb in the early hours of the next morning. Weak and trembling, the mother passed her baby to its father. He was about to pick up the needle lying on the sideboard when the girl screamed again. Another form made its way out of its mother's body. The father allowed the boy to stay in his mother's arms whilst he steadied the needle and, with precision and skill, he began to pierce the newly formed flesh of the girl. When the mark was done, he passed the crying infant back to the nurse, taking the second child from the mother. He worked quickly and efficiently, and soon the two identical and yet unique marks were completed.

"What will your twins be called?" the midwife asked the mother. She shared a look with the father and said nothing. The midwife nodded in understanding.

"That's OK. You have a little time to decide. But the babies will need to get used to their names, so think them up quickly."

The mother nodded, almost guiltily. The midwife cleaned up and then left, leaving the father with notes on how to look after the babies.

"You know?" the mother asked as soon as the midwife was gone. "We have to call her that. And him after... you know who."

The father nodded.

"Of course. I know. I understand."

They gazed down at the infants. The girl cried and squirmed in her mother's arms, whilst the boy stayed silent in his father's large hands. The mother and father looked up at one another at the same time and exchanged a confirmed nod. They would do it.

The next day, the mother was much stronger. The two of them began to walk, for neither owned any sort of transport.

They walked all day, occasionally catching a bus or tram. Eventually, they reached their destination as the sun rose again. The stopped, exhausted, to rest.

"Here," the father said. "By the church."

The mother, her heart breaking, laid the baby girl, wrapped up in its shawl, tucked just inside the door of the church. She tucked the little note into one of the folds and then stepped back.

"It is done," the father said simply. He took the mother by her elbow, still cradling the other child in his arms. "Let's go."

They turned, and walked away. Such an easy thing to do to a child. A baby.

They walked on. And they didn't look back.

The second child, the boy, they headed north. At the border, they passed the boy to a friend waiting there. She took the baby, and left, sharing a smile with the parents. No words were exchanged. A note was handed over.

Then the woman and man headed home, no longer parents.