Disclaimer: I am NOT Stephanie Meyer, just attempting to walk a mile in her shoes. :]

This story is going to be told from several points of view, changing each chapter. It's won't be a huge guessing game or anything, but just a little something to keep things interesting. And sorry for the short and probably boring preamble below, but it had to be done in order to get this ball rolling. It's not a very original idea, I know, but I promise you that if you stick with this, there will definitely be some surprises that you didn't see coming. Stay tuned for the next chapter, which I'm hoping will be a lot better than this one. Please rate and review!

I sighed as I carried pillows down the eastern tunnel, flanked on either side by the O'Shea brothers, both of which were shouldering bulky cots. It had been a year, but I had never ceased to be frustrated by the physical limits this body provided for me.

But in the time since my rebirth into Pet's body, I had developed firm muscles underneath this soft, velvety skin. However, Ian continued to insist that I be given the lightest load possible, despite my protests. Still, I suppose he had a good reason for it.

A few months after the rains had stopped, I had started to get queasy really easy – a smell or even a simple movement could trigger my nausea. Ian had worried incessantly, but Mel had known right away what was the matter with me.

She had taken me to my room, gingerly pushing me down onto the mattress and then sitting beside me. She had turned and looked me in the eye, and in five words, had turned my world upside down.

"Wanda, I think you're pregnant." It was so obvious, I had wondered how I hadn't thought of it before. My clothes had been getting tighter, especially in the middle, but I had thought that it was just my frame filling out. But when I had pulled my shirt up, there was a clearly defined bump.

I had been overjoyed, of course, but was hesitant to tell Ian about the baby. Melanie had been excited too, and had told me that it had to be done sooner or later, and it was best to tell him before he found out some other way.

But I hadn't been prepared for his reaction when I had broken the news to him a couple days later. He had held me close to him, more gently than before, if that was even possible.

"How do you feel about it?" he had whispered into my ear. I had pulled back, trying to get a good look at his face. He wasn't supposed to try into consideration my feelings; he was just supposed to concentrate on his own. I had expected anger, frustration, sadness, anything but this, this tenderness.

"I – I want it, more than anything," I'd managed to stammer. After all, it was a piece of my Ian, a product of our love. How could I have not wanted it? And besides, I don't think I could have aborted it; I didn't have the strength to kill anything, much less my own child.

"Then I want it too," he had said, planting a chaste kiss on my lips. "More than anything." His breath had washed over my face, and I had stretched up to on my toes to bring my lips to his, kissing him a lot less platonically than he had kissed me.

In the months that followed, my belly had ballooned outwards to the point where I could no longer see my feet, and my appetite grew proportionately until my serving began to be called the Wanda helping instead of the Kyle helping. More than that, I had strange cravings, like pancakes in the middle of the night, or steak in the morning, which was completely impractical in a place like this. In addition, my workload was slowly diminished to baking – even doing dishes and laundry were out of the question because everyone thought I would fall into the river, my balance was so impaired.

And then had come the first kick. I had been eating dinner when I had felt the blow to my abdomen, from the inside. I had cried out in surprise, spewing half-chewed food all over the countertop, my hand flying to my stomach. There had been little flutterings before – a very strange sensation, I might add – but nothing this vocal, if that was the word for it. It hadn't hurt a bit, but it had definitely startled me, along with my dining partners.

I had received curious and even concerned looks from everyone, but smiles had broken across their faces when I had told them what was wrong. "The baby," I had explained, hearing the wonder in my own voice, "it kicked me."

Ian had smiled back. "Where? Can I feel?" I had nodded, taking his wrist and placing his large hand on my round belly, and sure enough, the baby had kicked again, right in the same place. "Did you feel that?" I had asked, but he shook his head, frowning, and had gone back to eating. But as my pregnancy progressed, he and others were able to feel the baby's movements.

The babble of overlapping voices and a banging sound quite close to me brought me back to the present. Ian and Kyle were setting up the cots, and then pushed them together so they created a bed large enough for two. Then Kyle disappeared into the crowd of people – to go find Sunny, I presumed.

I set two of the pillows down on the makeshift bed, and then handed the rest to Mel and Jared who had set up a bed just like ours. Mel flashed a smile at me before settling down on the bed beside her partner.

Just then a voice called out over the others. "All right, everybody! Shut yer traps so I can get some shut-eye."

Everybody obeyed Jeb without question, but it took a while for the voices to die down. One by one the lanterns flicked off, until there were no more circles of blue light on the ceiling. The darkness was complete – I couldn't even see my hand if I put it an inch from my face.

I almost screamed when I felt a pair of arms wrap around my waist, just under the bulge of my stomach. "Hey, relax, Wanda. It's just me," Ian laughed in my ear.

"Ian!" I scolded him, slapping him playfully. "You nearly gave me a heart attack." He chuckled and backed us up until the back of his legs hit the bed, at which point they folded so that I was sitting on his lap.

"How do you feel?" he asked, and I knew immediately what he was referring to. My due date was right around the corner and any day now the baby would be born.

"I feel fine, Ian," I told him comfortingly. He scooted backwards, kicking off his shoes and laid down on his side, one arm pillowing his head underneath his pillow. The other tugged me along until I was curled up beside him, my back against his warm stomach.

"Good night, Wanda," he murmured, yawning, his chin touching the top of my head for a moment.

"Good night," I replied, closing my eyes and welcoming the oblivion that was the same color as the room.