IP: 70.193.192.165
Posted on July 6, 2013 at 04:39:07 AM by fathom
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It sounded like such a simple thing. To be pregnant. But the doing of it, the actuality of living the word, meant so much more. It was not so simple to carry the little lives. They did not simply poof into existence, did they? It had been a long winter. To be pregnant meant so much: it was to be fat and uncomfortable and awkward and tired. So tired. Even now she yawned, the tug of her jaw muscles extending into the tightness of her belly. She looked out across the rocky expanse ahead of them, nodding sternly when Malina suggested that the nature of their conditions remain confidential. “I don’t want anyone to know.” During the long weeks of her pregnancy, she had considered many options – not the least of which ending her life and avoiding the whole fiasco. But her backup, her desperate grip on whatever life she had developed in Diveen, ultimately led her to a (hopefully) convincing lie: “If anyone asks, I’ve adopted.” She turned a grim smile on Malina. If she didn’t want to lie, Fathom believed she could avoid the conversation. And if the truth came spilling out of her…well, what could she do? She certainly couldn’t attack her, and she wouldn’t drag her down too. Malina had so much more going for her. The next leader of the Assassins? No hurt would be enough to destroy that for her. Perhaps Fathom was foolish in her sense of honor, but it was all she really had. Naïve? It was such a strange word to describe Malina, and she wouldn’t have believed it out of any mouth but her own. “I’m sorry,” she said sympathetically. “I never really knew anything about it, either. Sheltered life, you know?” A wry chuckle crept out of her chest. Her father had raised her alone, after all – what could she know? They rarely shared anything but food. Their cohabitation had been mutually beneficial, but they had never been close. Without a mother to explain things, she had learned everything the hard way. She turned her eyes away from her companion; then she noticed a figure among the rocks, a silhouette moving toward them. It didn’t look like their black-eyed rapist, or anyone she had ever seen for that matter, but they had their backs to the drop-off, and he was quickly closing the distance. It distressed her to watch him draw closer. And closer. And then there was…something. She stood up even before Malina reacted, defensively placing herself between her and the strange male. Fathom peeped around her bristling friend, uncharacteristically drawn to the new face from nowhere. She eyed him as he spoke. His question would have been strange coming from anyone else. “I…um…” she stuttered at him from Malina’s shoulder, having moved forward without even realizing it. “Maybe?” she whispered. A familiarity broke over her in waves, though she was certain she had never seen him before – déjà vu. It was like meeting an old friend. It was like nothing she had ever experienced. His voice soothed her, eased the agony in her heart, and she wanted him to stay. The power of this desire was overpowering, and she felt it above everything else – the lingering horror of she and Malina’s predicament, the crippling fear of being found out, the gripping pains in her abdomen. “What- ” A shuddering pressure rolled through her, bringing her to the ground, breathless and terrified. Instinctively she knew. It was happening. Right here, in the middle of rock-damn nowhere, in front of Malina and him. Must her life always revolve around shock and embarrassment? It was too late to run to her den in Diveen. Her carefully selected, well-hidden, warm and inviting sanctuary would have to wait. Even as she considered it another pain racked her, drawing a low, quivering growl out of her throat. - -- - -- - -- - -- - She laid her head on the cold stone after the first pup broke away, jade eyes wide and staring, her stomach heaving with each new wave of pain – they were coming fast again. Oh, just let it be over soon. She could feel things happening at the base of her tail, another great pressure, but lacked the energy (or the courage) to do anything but push. Everything in her screamed PUSH! Push and end this thing. It has to be over soon. It has to be. Another rush, much easier this time, and she waited for the pains to grip her again. Mercifully, they subsided. Her muscles quivered with adrenaline, exhaustion, and fear, but she rolled stiffly to her stomach, turning to see the sum of her efforts. They were so small. So fragile. With a quiet grunt, she faced their little bodies, gently licking them clean, and found herself quite satisfied when they wriggled eagerly toward the warmth of her stomach. Both alive. Both healthy. Both hungry. It was a surprising relief when they began suckling, and she watched them in silence for a time. She was sore, and tired, but otherwise felt unfazed. Unharmed. “Hello,” she said to them in her awkward way, “I’m your mother.” |
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