Rise of the Warrior of Everfen

Chapter 52: Remnants of a Dream

Erinne sat outside her small cabin on a pallet of furs, watching Andol coo and kick. The sun was warm on their skin, keeping the chill of winter at bay. The air was clear and crisp and she felt at peace. Whatever thanks she could give for being here, she gave them often and with gratitude. Even as she sat here alone, waiting on Cold Hammer's return.

She understood Lohke had an entire nation of people to run and he had duties that took him away, along with her mate. At first, Cold Hammer had adamantly refused Lohke, insisting that the last time he sent him away, things hadn't gone well, but their son was here, she was healed, it was safe for him to leave.

Besides, their clan didn't leave her alone for long. Each day she had a new visitor coming to help her or to see the baby. The clan adored Andol with all their hearts and it warmed hers to see mountainous warriors giggling like chidren their selves as they held her son. In the field of grass that stretched out in front of her cabin, Lothar grazed quietly but kept flicking his ears towards the path, telling her that someone was already approaching to greet her this day. She was unsurprised to see Zevra appear through the forest, her own son in tow. Erinne smiled pleasantly at her and waved, staying on the pallet.

"Good morning, Sheobulf," Zevra stopped when she reached the pallet and carefully lowered herself.

"Good morning," she replied warmly, leaning her head back as she enjoyed the sun. She stretched out one hand and wiggled it at Moksan and the baby giggled, catching Andol's attention. He turned his head, listening to the sound as a small coo came from his lips.

Zevra's smile broadened, "I haven't heard him make that noise yet."

"He started yesterday." She told her, but the moment he heard Zevra speak, he stopped cooing and started puckering his lips, a cry seconds from springing forth.

They both laughed. Andol was only a month old, but he was smart, he knew why Zevra was here. Despite herbs from Griesling and every manner of advice from other women, Erinne had never gotten her milk to start. Griseling and Cilla both believed it was because she'd lain for three days unconscious, but at least they'd tried to help her. In those three days, Zevra had been the one to keep her son fed and had continued after Erinne awoke. She made the trip each day to come feed Andol and in the times she wasn't here, Griesling had created a milk for her to give him until the orc could step back in.

She would forever be grateful for Zevra's help.

"Here, I'll take Moksan," Erinne sat up straighter and reached for the baby. He was easily twice the size of Andol but it seemed a fair exchange. She played with Moksan and held him while Zevra fed Andol. "Hi, baby," she held him up and he bounced on her legs, pushing off with a powerful thrust. "You're going to be walking soon if you keep this up."

"He pulled up yesterday at home. His daddy tried to let him stand on his own but he wouldn't."

"Soon." Erinne nodded with confidence. Zevra lifted Andol gently, holding his head with her palm as she nestled him at her breast.

"He's so small, Erinne,"

"So you keep telling me." She tapped her stomach, "My body disagrees."

Zevra chuckled, "Moksan was longer than my forearm, his head the size of my palm. Andol's fits snugly, perfectly."

She nodded, gazing at him adoringly before Moksan jumped in her arms and she turned her attention back to him, making goofy noises at him to try and get him to giggle. "I was thinking," she began while keeping her voice shrill and Moksan seemed to like it, "it's been a month, I am better now. I can come to you in the village some days, instead of you coming all the way out here."