Pained cries startled Issa from his fastidious sleep. He was one of the younger prisoners, and not to say he couldn't hold his own in a fight, but falling into too deep a slumber was not a good idea for someone who wanted to stay alive down in the Pit. The cries were getting louder, and through the haze of his half asleep mind, Issa registered the thought that the woman prisoner was finally giving birth.
Stealthily as he could, Issa slipped from his cot, and approached the woman's cell. There were multiple healers surrounding her, along with the prison doctor, yet it did nothing to quell the helpless screams of agony coming from her mouth. Issa was young, around fifteen he figured, though it was near impossible to keep track of time in the Pit. Although he was young, he was well aware of what was going on, and if he were being honest with himself, was in complete awe of watching a child being born.
"Boy, come, we need all the help we can get." Barked one of the medics in Arabic. Scrambling from his spot at the bars of the cell, Issa opened the door as little as possible and slipped through, as a medic rushed past him handing him a wet cloth and locking the cell door once more. Issa knew about childbirth, but that was not to say he knew how to birth a child. He stood, lost, for quite a few moments before the prison doctor instructed him to keep the damp cloth on the woman's heated forehead.
Hours passed. It had still been dark out when the cries of the woman in labor had awoken Issa. The sun was well overhead now, and finally the child was safely out of the womb. However, the mother hardly had time to name her newborn before collapsing from exhaustion.
"Talia..." She had said, a faint smile gracing her lips. Within seconds of the mother passing out, Issa found himself being handed the newborn child. At first he was wary. What if he hurt it? The Pit was no place for gentleness. And yet, as he gazed into the wide blue eyes of the baby girl, Talia, he felt something akin to compassion for this poor helpless creature, brought into a literal living hell by no fault of her own.
"Hello, Talia." Issa whispered hesitantly to the warm bundle in his arms. She was warm. That was one of the most predominant things about her. She was a source of warmth, of innocence in this cold, dark Hell on Earth. It felt right, holding the child close to his chest, whispering words to her that she would not be able to understand for the next few years of her fragile life.
But all too soon, the mother was well enough to take back her child, and Issa was escourted back to his own cell, where he sat, thoughts consumed with worry for the feeble lives of the mother and daughter.
