In The Lair of the Draca (Book 2)

In The Lair of the Draca (Book 2) Chapter 81: Babies and Offspring

It was close to midday when the unexpected occurred. The refugees had picked up the pace and were making inroads toward the middle of the Ice-Capped Mountains when Jeanette (who all the while had been slung over Julian's shoulder like a sack of spoilt potatoes) stopped her kicking and sniveling to give a breathless cry. Sashek, who'd lagged behind with the midwives and was glad that Frankie and Blythewood had continued ahead with Lopak, knew what had happened without even turning round. There was a loud *pop*, as of a goat's bladder bursting, and a sudden gush of fruity-smelling fluid.

Jeanette's water-sac had broken.

"Aauugh, my stomach! I'm dying! I'm dying!" shrieked the panicked Star-Woman, who then immediately decided to become dead weight in Julian's arms. Exasperated, Julian allowed her to slip onto the ground, whereupon she promptly crawled to the creek-- by now about 50 feet across and four to five feet deep-- and dramatically flung herself into the water like a floundering calf.

Sashek and Julian exchanged weary looks.

What's that miserable harpy up to this time? Julian's eyes seemed to ask. He was worn out, exhausted, and Sashek knew his heart was still reeling from Luchek's loss. Only the hope that he might one day soon lay eyes on his elusive daughter kept him placing one foot before the other.

"She has convinced herself that she would rather die than give birth to this child and live alongside the Evening folk," Sashek said candidly, as though he had spoken aloud. "She is fearful, selfish, and has assured herself that her own race of beings-- that is, you Star People-- are better than the rest of us. But the imminence of this new little one is challenging her assumptions," she finished quietly, just as Jeanette was making a break for the quickly-moving rapids. Three of the midwives waded in and grasped Jeanette's floating garments, pulling her back to shore, and not a moment too soon. The foaming waters were moving so swiftly that small animals unlucky enough to have been caught in them were being dashed to bits on the rocks and boulders around the bend. Even a young mountain goat, somehow strayed from its mother, was among the dead-- an ominous sign.

With the terrain changing so quickly, there was little chance that those who'd gone on before would be able to continue; they were stuck, every single one of them.

Forgetting in her misery that she was supposed to be attempting suicide in the rapids, Jeanette collapsed into a sobbing heap and buried her face in her hands. "I don't want it!" was all she could think of to say. "I don't want it! I don't want it! I don't--" this last cry was choked off by a shuddering contraction which rippled through her swollen abdomen.

There was little left to do but tend to the laboring woman. Still sniffling and cowed by the pain, Jeanette allowed two of the midwives to help her into a sitting position. A third rushed to her basket of meagre belongings to fetch a cloth on which to catch the infant.

Sashek knelt at Jeanette's side, swallowed her feelings of distaste, and gripped the weeping woman by one hand.

"I-- I wanna lay down." Even in the midst of her agony, Jeanette's voice maintained a stubborn chime. Sashek peeked at her gaunt cheeks, so sallow beneath the glow of the Twin Moons, and thought blandly that she looked like death.

"You cannot. A woman this far along must use the force of sitting upright to help pull the baby into the world."

The midwife returned and tossed a damp cloth into Sashek's arms; this she spread under the whimpering Jeanette's trembling thighs and took a quick glance beneath. There, streaked with blood and patches of mucous, a tiny head was crowning.

"I can see your baby's hair!" Sashek crowed jubilantly, while Julian paced back and forth and nervously wrung his hands as though the infant being born were his own. Despite the grim circumstances, the hunger and thirst of the refugees, and the pale realization that a trio of Dragura's Hell-Dogs could descend upon them at any time, the Evening folk so prized the coming of new life that (for the next few moments) all dire realities were set to the wayside. Here, at last, would be a fresh new soul, the antithesis of what famine and terror Dragura had seen fit to visit upon them. Where there were new babies, there was hope, and with it the possibility of escape and freedom.