It was December 4, 1783 when she was born. The ice storm was at its peak when the shrill baby cries filled the tiny log cabin just outside the sleepy town of a primal English village. The village, itself, bordered a very harsh wilderness forest, and survival was fierce. It was winter right now, and it was one of the most violent storms the village had ever faced. So far, the tiny village was thriving. The population was small, but trade was exceptional from the fur and meat supply from traps. It was the sole purpose of the village with it being on the edge of a forest. And, tonight, the village was going to gain a new member into the fold.
Everything was going as well as any labor could be expected. That was until the door and windows of the small cabin all blew open at once. As the mother lay back in her birthing pains, the midwife did all that she could to keep her breathing in check. The older woman saw this as an omen. The cold air swept through the cabin as though it was on a mission. It neatly removed all of the heat in the hearth. The coals were out as though they weren't touched for days, and a bone-jarring chill killed any existing heat in the room.
When the baby girl was born, the chilling wind seemed to pull around her tiny, fragile form. She was almost frozen on the way out, and completely chilled blue. She was crying at first from the intensity of the cold, but, after a while, she seemed to stop. Even though her body shook intensely, she didn't feel the cold anymore. Furs were quickly wrapped around her body to try and warm the baby back up. As the midwife studied the infant, she noticed the eyes of the newborn. At first they were a warm brown. Then, right before her own eyes, the color in them changed to something resembling ice cold frost.
"This baby is cursed!" the midwife whispered. "Your daughter is a Child of Winter!"
"Still my child!" the burly father scowled. "And a curse? Never! We will see how she grows to really judge that! How is she? My wife?"
"She will live," the woman nodded. "I fear for the child."
"What do you mean?!" he growled now. His heavy, brown beard was getting coated with frost, as he moved quickly to slam the windows and door back shut. Dark brown eyes searched for the next thing he needed to do to warm the place back up. His breath was misting out in the frigid air of the cabin now. That concerned him greatly. He went to the fireplace and found the wood ice cold. Even the small coals were cold to the touch. Swearing at this, he tried to get the fire going again frantically.
"Her eyes are not normal eyes," the midwife said. "They changed out of the womb."
"Well, if you keep quiet, then no harm will come of it. As I said, we will see how she grows," the new father said protectively. "If my daughter dies, then fine. If she lives, then she will live. Or she'll die by my own hands, if she is seen as a threat."
"My baby?!" the weak woman whimpered. "Is my baby alive?! Why is she so quiet?"
"She lives," the midwife sighed and wrapped up the small bundle in a heavy cloth blanket over the furs. The woman's husband was at her side to ease her up to help her start nursing the newborn. The new mother's warm milk would help warm the baby up quickly.
"We'll take it from here. Thanks," the man mumbled. The midwife could only nod when she left. She would be keeping an eye on the child, and she knew the husband was right. If the baby girl was a threat, she would be seen to. The older woman would say nothing for now. She would let them handle the infant. The door was shut firmly behind her to keep the cold out. "How is our daughter?"
"She's so cold!" his wife frowned.
"I'll get the fire back up. Just rest easy," he said and gazed down at his daughter. Looking out the window now to judge the storm, he blinked his eyes with disbelief. Was that a man out there?! Then, with a flurry of snow, the man was gone. It actually unnerved him. He had to check it out. "I'm going to get more kindling! Keep yourself warm with her."
"Be careful!" she frowned. He only nodded and went outside, the door shut tight behind him once again. He did a thorough inspection of where the man was, but found nothing. No footprints. No disturbance in the snow. Maybe it was a hallucination. He didn't want to think that it could be anything else. He didn't want to think that he couldn't protect his newborn and his wife from something he couldn't hit. Muttering a small prayer of faith, he moved back to the cabin. Grabbing the kindling from where it was stored, he went back into the house to try and revive the fire as quickly as he could.
In the distance, the strange man reappeared. At first, he was perplexed. Leaning on his staff of wood and ice, he thought to himself. As he mulled over what happened, he ended up chuckling. Originally, he was only playing a rather common prank. Let the cold wind into the house, cause a little panic, and freeze them all for a little bit. Nothing harmful at all. It was something he always did when he was bored. He wasn't counting on the child to be touched by his winter chill. It had an odd effect on her. For some reason, he was drawn to it. Could it be that something I secretly wanted had finally happened? Deciding to stick around and watch her, he knew he had time to kill. It's all he ever had now.
The father got the fire stoked back up, and the small cabin was warmed again within the hour under his expert care. A hot stew was soon simmering over it in a small cauldron. The baby was warmed up, but didn't seem affected. If anything, her shaking chill was gone, but her eyes stayed the same. It did unnerve him a little, but she was sleeping in that peaceful state that all newborns did after nursing. As he thawed out some water to use for the stew, his wife looked over at him with a tired smile.
"What is it?" he asked, as he poured the carefully thawed water into the cauldron. More rabbit meat was added next. He needed his wife to regain as much strength as she could.
"What do we name her?" she smiled.
"Hmm. I know. Let's call her…Jenna," he smiled back. She nodded and lay back against the cushioning furs that were piled around her. He was one of the best hunters in the village. Furs were always plentiful, and they were purposely placed around her when she needed them. When she couldn't rest, he took out a bone flute that he carved out himself and started to play it. The new mother found herself relaxing at the soft sound. He knew she needed to rest, and playing the small flute showed that everything was at ease. With the warmth of the hearth going strong and the exhaustion of the birthing finally taking its toll, she gave a tired sigh and drifted off to sleep with her newborn.
