One

When Marina returned to the cabin she made sure to put her rifle away first. She didn't want to damage it in her anger after all. Once she had safely returned it to its usual spot by the bed, she turned and hammered her fist into the wall.

Damn it!

Today's hunt had not gone well. Once again, she hadn't killed anything. Not a single little critter.

She had hoped to turn her losing streak around today. When she had set out this morning, she had resolved not to return without having killed something. Even just a little hare or squirrel – anything would have done. But by the time mid-afternoon had come around, she still hadn't landed a single shot and was already flagging. Her feet were swollen and her head was swimming, and the last of her stamina had been lost to the baking summer sun. And so she had trudged home, frustrated and humiliated, with her game pouch just as empty as it had been when she had first set out.

Her fist had left a mark in the wall. With a scowl she turned away and crossed the room, nursing her throbbing hand. She shrugged off her pack and left it where it fell, too weary to put it away. Her chair groaned under her weight as she collapsed into it. By now her anger was cooling into despair and tears were welling up in her eyes. She wiped them fiercely with the back of her hand, ashamed at herself for being so emotional.

It had been two weeks since she had eaten something she had killed with her own rifle. In the meantime she had survived on the small creatures caught in the traps she had set around the forest. Between them and the produce of her vegetable patch, she was in no danger of going hungry. Yet she was a predator by nature. Hunting her own food was part of her identity. It depressed her that she seemed no longer capable of it.

It wasn't her fault, she knew. She was a born huntress, as much a part of this forest as the trees that grew here. Having lived in these mountains for so many years, she had come to know the terrain intimately. She knew the lie of the land, the best places to find cover, and the locations of nearly one hundred different burrows dotted around the forest. She knew the animals too. How their instincts would guide them in any given situation and how long they would fight back before they finally gave up the ghost.

But this knowledge alone was not what made her such an excellent huntress. It was her inner discipline that really brought home the meat. Marina had always had complete control over her body. Every little action she made during the hunt – every silent breath, every lightly placed footstep, every sniff of the air, every gentle squeeze of the trigger – was only made at her command. Each had its purpose and not a single one was wasted. And together they combined into one flawless process with the sole objective of killing her prey.

Except now that perfect process had been disrupted. There was no way she could hunt as well as she used to. Not with her belly so swollen with child.

She sat up and traced her hand over her colossal abdomen. It was bigger than it had been even just a week ago and now stuck out so far that she couldn't see her feet. Her body had constantly changed over the past several months and she was never given the chance to get used to one new form before it had evolved into something else. When the bump had first emerged it had only been an inconvenience and she had hunted much as she had before. As the months went by, it had become fuller and rounder, and she had needed to alter her clothing almost weekly to accommodate it. Now it was so large that it drooped off her, like a gathering raindrop about to drop off the edge of a leaf. With such a heavy burden to carry, hunting was far more difficult. She could no longer climb a tree, crawl on her front or even chase after a fleeing target. Where once she had crept silently through the forest like a wolf, now she could only waddle along like duck.

Her ungainly form wasn't her only problem. Her body had a whole new chemistry as well. Strange hormones coursed through her veins, affecting her body in a whole range of unpleasant ways. There had been the violent morning sickness of course. Then the bizarre cravings that ambushed her without warning (one day a few months back she had forgone a whole day's hunting to travel to town in order to buy liquorice. She didn't even like liquorice). Even her aim had been thrown off. She found when she was hunting that she had a little less composure, a little less patience, a little less edge. It was enough to turn a perfectly lined-up headshot into a miss, and leave Marina cursing as her startled target fled away through the trees.

But the new feelings those chemicals brought were the hardest to bear. Not so long ago, she would have responded to a failed hunt with a gentle admonishment to herself and a resolution to do better next time. Now when it happened, she felt so angry that she had to lash out and damage something. And then, when the anger passed the tears would come.

She wasn't used to crying, had hardly even cried as a child. There hadn't been any point back then – her tears had never held any sway with her father, who had just frowned in disgust, as though she were weak for letting her emotions get the better of her. Now, as she sat there with tears seeping helplessly from her eyes, she understood his feelings. She felt weak and it was her who felt disgusted at herself for being at the mercy of her hormones and this cursed child inside of her. And her frustration would only bring more tears coming, each one a traitor as it streaked down her face.

She hated being pregnant. To her the baby was a parasite, hiding safely inside her while gorging itself on her body's resources and dignity. Often she found herself grasping her belly with both hands, wishing she could rip it out of herself so that her body would be her own again. Yet she knew there was nothing she could do. She would have to wait until her body purged this parasite of its own accord. But even knowing that she would give birth soon did not excite Marina because she knew that this was only the beginning of something far worse

After the birth there would be a baby in her home. A squealing, shitting baby that she would be expected to tend to around the clock. She would have to feed, clean, clothe and protect it, while receiving nothing in return except sleepless nights and soiled nappies. It would greedily occupy every moment of time she had for years to come, right up until it could finally fend for itself.

Marina sighed out loud to her empty cabin. All she had ever wanted was to live a peaceful, lonely life in these mountains, with a simple daily routine, spiced up by the thrill of the hunt. No people or responsibilities, just boundless freedom. It didn't seem like too much to ask for. Yet this child would take that humble existence away from her and demand that she live her life solely for it instead.

Hardly seemed fair. It wasn't as though she had chosen to have this baby. She sighed again. Amazing how a single night was all it took to send you on the last path you had ever wanted to tread.

As though sensing her resentment, the baby kicked her. "Stop that," she hissed, swatting her bump angrily.

The kick had jolted her out of her thoughts. She looked outside to assess the light and guessed that there were still a good few hours until dusk. She knew she should put them to good use; perhaps head down to the stream and catch some fish for dinner. Yet all she wanted to do was haul herself into bed and sleep. She refused to let herself, knowing that to do so would be to admit yet another defeat to her heavily pregnant body.

She ran her fingers into her clammy hair and pushed it out of her face. Her sweat had cooled by now and she shivered, feeling cold and filthy. Her washbasin was just in the corner, but even moving that far seemed like a colossal chore. She forced herself to her feet, groaning at the twinge of pain in her back, and stumbled over to it. She retrieved her facecloth, wrung it out and dragged it across her face. The water was cold, but cleansing.

Just then she sensed something. Nothing tangible, just a change in the air. Her ears pricked up and she heard soft footfalls from outside. Someone was coming.

Instantly alert despite her tiredness, she snatched up her rifle and darted to the window. Lifting the curtain just far enough, she checked the approach to the cabin. A slender dark-haired woman with a rifle over one shoulder and a large pack on her back was headed her way. Marina's face curled into a scowl as she recognised her. It was Catherine of course. She was the only visitor she ever received these days.

Damn it. Why now? The last thing she felt like was having a guest. She despised company at the best of times, but to have it when she was tired and depressed after an unsuccessful hunt seemed unnecessarily cruel.

Nevertheless she returned her rifle to its position by the bed and opened the door. Catherine gave her a cheery wave as she approached but Marina did not return it.

"Mari! Good to see you!"

"Corporal O'Hara," Marina muttered back as way of greeting.

Catherine made a face. "Oh Mari, you know we're not in the militia any more. Would it really hurt you to call me Cathy? Or Catherine at least?"

Marina didn't respond. This request was predictable part of every visit and she no longer bothered to give it an answer.

She stood aside to let her visitor in. As Catherine dumped her pack by the door with a dramatic 'phew!', she trudged to the kitchen area and took down two mugs from the cupboard.

"Oh sit yourself down. I'll make the tea," said Catherine.

Marina obeyed her. She hated being waited on by others, but she was too tired to argue. "Water's out back," she murmured.

"Sure. Back in a tick." Catherine picked up the kettle and headed outside to fill it up from the rain-butt. Marina slumped in her seat and savoured these last few moments alone.

It had only been a week since Catherine had last visited. She had come more and more often, the closer she came to the end of her pregnancy. Marina didn't enjoy these visits, yet felt unable to turn her away, especially since Catherine never came empty handed. The pack she brought with her was always full of supplies – practical things such as metal wire for snares, tools to fix up her cabin with, and mesh to protect her vegetable garden from rabbits. She also brought foodstuffs such as milk, cheese, coffee, and sometimes even a treat like a bar of chocolate or an apple strudel. Marina never accepted these gifts directly, and certainly never thanked her for them. She was too proud for that. But Catherine never took them back with her, so when she left they remained on the table where she had put them. Only after she was gone would Marina start to pick things up and put them away.

It annoyed her that she was reduced to accepting charity, but she had little choice. The nearest town was at the foot of the mountain, and even before she had become pregnant a round trip had taken a whole day. In her current condition, the arduous return journey up the slope would have been nearly impossible, especially with shopping to carry. Because of this, Catherine had become a valuable supply line for anything which the forest itself could not provide her with. The provisions she brought were certainly worth enduring a short visit for.

Catherine returned, having filled up the kettle. The two women waited in silence for the water to boil, then Catherine made the tea and placed two steaming mugs on the table. Marina nodded in thanks and took a sip, shivering in pleasure at its delicious warmth. As annoying as her unannounced visits were, the woman certainly knew how to fix a decent cup of tea.

Catherine took a seat opposite her and placed her hands around her own cup. "So. How have you been?" she asked brightly.

"Fine," Marina replied.

"No problems?"

"No." And that was as much pregnancy talk as Marina ever allowed. To her relief, Catherine no longer asked 'how on Earth did this happen?' or, worse still, 'who is the father?'. By now she knew she wouldn't get an answer to either question.

With that out of the way, the visit settled into its usual routine. Catherine chatted and Marina listened without saying a word. Mostly Catherine would talk about her life at the Sleepy Lakes hospital where she lived with her two adopted sons. She spoke about her work, the lessons she gave and, more than anything else, the two Bielert boys. She would harp on and on about how she was studying hard in her evenings to become a Teaching Meister so that one day she could provide a proper home for them. It seemed odd to Marina that she was supposedly so busy, yet still had time to waste coming out here to visit her, but she never mentioned this.

Catherine would also relay news she had received from the other former Sevens. Today she babbled about a letter she had received from Juno ('Got her first paper published! I'm ever so proud of her!') and Cherry's recently announced engagement ('She's rushed into it. I hope she knows what she's doing.'). As she spoke, Marina looked aimlessly out the window, making no attempt to disguise her lack of interest. Perhaps those people had been war comrades once, but the war was over now and they no longer had a role to play in her life. Catherine didn't take the hint and kept spouting out every tiny little detail, as though she genuinely believed Marina would want to hear them.

There was only so long Catherine could hold a conversation by herself. Normally when she ran out of news she would finish off her tea, thank Marina for her hospitality (what little of it there had been) and be on her way. Today though she remained seated, until the silence became long. She tapped a nail anxiously on the surface of the table, her lower lip clenched between her front teeth. The air was so awkward, that Marina was even tempted to break the silence herself. But eventually Catherine met her eyes again and spoke.

"How far are you along now?" The question wasn't asked as casual small-talk. There was business in her tone.

Marina didn't reply at first. It irked her that Catherine had broken their unspoken truce and brought up the pregnancy again.

"Eight months," she replied cautiously.

"Eight months. Wow." Catherine nodded, impressed. "Then I think it's about high time we discussed what you're planning to do when the baby comes."

Marina flinched. I should have seen this coming. She shrugged, as though the question wasn't important. "There's nothing to discuss. When it comes, it comes."

Catherine rebuked her with a look down her nose. "So you have no plan whatsoever."

"I guess not." And it's none of your business anyway, she wanted to add.

"I figured as much. In that case I have a proposal for you." Catherine leaned forward on the table, her eyes taking on a conspiratorial glint. "Why don't you come and stay with us at Sleepy Lakes?" When Marina instantly opened her mouth to decline, she carried on. "Look, I know you don't like to be around people. But please. Hear me out before you decide anything."

Marina grimaced to show her feelings on the suggestion, but remained silent as a sign that she would listen. Catherine threaded her fingers together and continued.

"I knew there wasn't long to go, so I had a word with the director before I came. He's agreed to offer you a private room where you can stay while you have the baby."

She raised her eyes, sought out Marina's own. "I'm sure you would like it there Marina. It's a peaceful place, right in the middle of the forest. The doctors have heaps of experience and they're ever so friendly, so you'll be in very good hands. And you'll have your very own room so if you want privacy, all you'll have to do is lock the door."

She separated her hands again and placed them on the table, her case now made. "So," she said. "What do you think, Mari? Will you come?"

Without even thinking, Marina shook her head. Catherine's face fell. "But why ever not?"

Marina didn't respond. In truth, it had been a knee-jerk reaction. No matter how good an offer it was, she wouldn't go to a place where there were people. She knew what people were like. They were selfish, controlling and so damn noisy. Every single one that she let into her life stole a little piece of her freedom by demanding attention that she did not want to give to them. That was why she despised their company, and to be around them at the time when she was most helpless of all was not something she could tolerate.

She couldn't explain all that to Catherine and so she remained silent, her mouth a defiant line. The other woman cringed despairingly. "Won't you at least consider it?" she pleaded. "Surely it's better than giving birth all alone!"

Marina shook her head, a strong, decisive motion that presented it as her final answer.

"I see." Catherine picked up her mug, took a calm, considered sip, and placed it back down in front of her. For a moment she stayed like that, hands still on the mug, eyes closed as though deep in thought. Then suddenly she shook her head with new resolution.

"No. That will not be acceptable."

Not acceptable? Marina clenched her teeth indignantly. "What do you mean 'not..."

"Be quiet and listen to me," said Catherine. "You're can't give birth here in the mountains all by yourself. It would be dangerous, both for you and the baby. Tell me, do you have any idea of labour is like?"

"No," Marina admitted. "But neither do you."

Catherine's gaze didn't falter. "You forget where I live, Mari. Sleepy Lakes has a very busy maternity wing and I've attended plenty of deliveries since I've been there. Childbirth is a miracle to be sure, but not a very pleasant one. You'll be trying to force a big baby's head out of a tiny little exit." She discreetly pointed downwards. "It takes a lot of pushing and a lot of pain to make that happen. Believe me, it's not something you want to go through alone."

"It won't be a problem," Marina stated. She wasn't exactly sure whether that was true or not, but if it turned out to be then she would deal with it the same way as she did with all her problems. Assess it when it came, then act as necessary, relying on no-one but herself.

Catherine did not look convinced. "It's easy for you to say that now. But you'll think differently when you go into labour. It's a terrifying ordeal even for the bravest of women, and for you to go through with it alone just because you're too proud to accept help is just ridiculous."

She turned her head to the side. "If it were only your own life you were risking then I would let you have your own way. But you owe it to your child to accept the help you need to give birth to it safely."

"I don't owe it a thing!" Marina snapped, raising her voice before she could stop herself. "I've carried it for eight months and it's been nothing but a burden to me! Why should I care what happens to it? All I want is for it to get out of my body and leave me alone!"

Her breathing came quick and shallow as she glared at Catherine with all the venom she could muster. This sudden rage had caught her off guard. It was those damned chemicals again, she knew. She would never have shown her anger so openly before.

Her outburst had not fazed Catherine, who remained calm and silent. Marina bowed her head and fought for composure. Horrifically, tears were stinging her eyes again. She forced herself to keep them in, desperate not to show any weakness in front of Catherine.

"I never asked for this," she said, slumping back into her chair. "I don't want this child. I never have."

She wasn't looking at Catherine, but heard her push her chair back and come over. Then she felt her hand, light and gentle on her shoulder. She shrugged it off, but Catherine replaced it insistently and stroked her arm with the comforting tenderness of a mother.

"It doesn't matter whether you want it or not," she whispered. "The fact is that it is coming soon and there is nothing you can do to change that. All you can do is prepare for its arrival. And the best way to do that is to come to Sleepy Lakes. Please Mari. You know I'm right."

Marina turned her head away from her. There was no way she could deny the sense of what Catherine was saying. Yet she couldn't bring herself to give in. The thought of all those people was too much to bear.

"No. I won't come."

Catherine removed her hand with a long suffering sigh. "So there's no convincing you? Fine then. If you won't come then it's time for Plan B."

Marina tensed. "Plan B?"

"Yep." Catherine nodded. "If you won't come to us, then we'll come to you. Oscar and I shall come up to stay with you while the baby is born."

"What!" Marina gasped. "No! You can't!"

Catherine ignored her and continued. "Once you've gone into labour it will be already too late to fetch a midwife from town. But Oscar's been studying medicine for a while now. I'm sure delivering a baby would be a good education for him." She made a show of looking around the cabin as though to appraise it. "Admittedly it will be a little cramped with the three of us under one roof but I'm sure we'll manage. After all we would only be with you until you had found a comfortable routine with the baby. I'm guessing we'll only be here for a month or two."

A whole month? Or even two? The thought of sharing her one-room cabin with two guests (and one of them a boy) for that long made Marina light-headed. She would have no privacy at all. And the thought of Oscar – that snivelling runt who had always looked more likely to piss himself than kill an enemy on the battlefield – staring into her most intimate regions while she was in labour and so vulnerable…no, she could never allow that.

"You can forget that idea. I would never let you stay," she growled.

Catherine shrugged. "If you wouldn't let us in the cabin then we would set up a tent outside instead. Might be a little less comfortable but it would do, so long as the weather holds." She gave her a mocking smile. "It would be fun, like a wee camping holiday."

Marina glowered at her. Why was the woman so desperate to meddle in her life? This was her own problem, to solve alone as she always had. Catherine had no business interfering.

For a moment she considered calling her bluff. She knew Catherine and Oscar were both very busy people – Catherine herself had told her as much. Would they really uproot themselves to come all the way up here and wait for her to give birth? Seemed like a lot of trouble to go through, especially just to offer help to someone who didn't even want it. And yet she knew Catherine would do it. She was stubborn like that and not one to make idle threats.

And, Marina realised with horror, there was nothing she could do to stop her.

"So what's it going to be?" Catherine demanded. "You can either take in some unwanted guests and leave your baby's delivery in the hands of a young boy…"

She swept her hands across herself.

"…or you can have a comfortable private room with a lockable door, in a clean hospital with experienced midwives and all the medical expertise you could ever need to bring your baby safely into this world."

She sat back in her chair and folded her arms. "The choice is yours, Mari."

Neither option sounded good. But Marina knew she was trapped. One way or another she would not be giving birth alone. She knew she should have been relieved by that, but instead she was furious that yet another part of her life had been taken out of her hands.

All she could do was choose the lesser of two evils. She ducked her head and spoke, barely loud enough to be heard.

"Fine. You win. I'll come to Sleepy Lakes."

Catherine responded with a single nod, tactful enough not to revel in her victory. "I think you've made the right choice Mari. It will be best for both you and the baby."

"Sure."

"The doctors there are great. They really are. And we'll all do our very best to respect your privacy."

"Whatever." Marina spoke listlessly. She didn't want to give Catherine the satisfaction of pretending to be grateful.

"Right. That's sorted." Catherine clapped her hands. "When I get back to town I'll call home and make sure your room is ready. I'm sure the boys will be happy to hear that you're coming." Then she seemed to think of something and asked, "Is there anyone else you would like me to contact? To let them know that you'll be staying with us?"

Marina saw the hidden question immediately. Should I let the father know where you are? "Don't push your luck," she growled.

"Fine, fine," said Catherine, holding her hands up defensively. "I'll be back the day after tomorrow to pick you up. That should be enough time for you to gather you things together and sort out your cabin, shouldn't it?"

"Yes," Marina said shortly, standing up as she spoke. Catherine had got what she had come for. Now she desperately wanted her to leave.

Catherine seemed to sense this and also stood. "Right. I suppose I had better make tracks if I want to get back to town before dark." She shouldered her rifle harness and Marina opened the door to let her out. Before she left Catherine paused and turned to her one last time.

"Mari," she said. Her face softened as she took hold of her hand and squeezed it. "I know you don't like this. But we'll take good care of you, I promise."

Marina didn't reply or even meet her eyes. She was sulking like a spoilt teenager who hadn't gotten her own way, but was too tired and too upset to care.

"Take care. I'll see you soon." Catherine gave her a final smile, bobbed her head and left.

As soon as she was out, Marina shut the door and locked it. Then she turned and slammed her fist into the wall for the second time that day.

Damn you, O'Hara.

It was bad enough that her pregnancy had stolen her hunting skills and reduced her to a snivelling weakling. Now it was forcing her to go back amongst people as well. People, with their chatter and stench and baffling need to poke their noses into her affairs. They would be all around her, all day, every day, until she had given birth. Worse still, she would be relying on their care. The prospect of giving others so much power over her life both terrified and sickened her.

And it was all for a baby she didn't want. The unfairness of it all made her clench her fist harder. How much more would she be made to suffer for that one awful night?

Another kick came from inside her womb. She placed her hand on the spot where she felt it. Not in the loving manner one would expect from a mother-to-be, but rather as a tense claw, ready to fend off an oncoming enemy.

"I hate you," she whispered. And it was that hatred, rather than hormones, which caused the tears to fall this time.

A/N – Many thanks for reading chapter one! I hope you enjoyed it. Just so you know, this story will be reclassified as 'M' from the next chapter, so if you do wish to keep reading you'll have to change the ratings filter to find it. You'll know it's been updated when it suddenly disappears from the front page. :-)

Also, as some readers may have already noticed, this fic take place after the events of my other fic – 'A Life Too Many' (which explains why Catherine just so happens to live in a hospital!). You don't have to have read it before this fic, though a few references to it will be cropping up.

'til next time!