Malcolm started awake in the middle of the night, his sleep interrupted by the piercing cries of his infant daughter who was not but three days old. He crossed the room to the small bassinet under the window, reaching down to pick up the small bundle in his arms.

He cradled the baby gently, trying to comfort the small creature who was crying in way that only a child who longs for their mother does.

"Shh, little one" he said in a soft whisper that he hoped would come across as comforting. "It's alright, Papa's here."

It was the third night that the child had woken in the night crying out for her mother, and the third night that Malcolm had realized how truly out of his element he was. He longed for the child's mother, for his beloved to be by his side. She had a knack for these type of things, and he was certain she would be able to calm to baby simply by being present. But Quina was sadly far from them at the moment, unable to comfort either of them.

Malcolm's heart sank as he thought of the women he loved, the mother of his child, being so far from him. She had nearly died during childbirth, her dangerous pregnancy proving to be a dark omen to how childbirth would progress. The midwife said that she had labored for hours, only to hemorrhage and lose a dangerous amount of blood giving birth to her breached child. Her final words before she fell unconscious was a demand to ensure that her child made into the world safely.

Their baby daughter had been born healthy, with no lasting effects from the ordeal. Quina however had remained unconscious, as pale as snow and cold as ice. She was back in her old room at her father's house, the midwife and healer insisting it was the safest place for her to be. Chief Adaro was both out of his mind with joy at the birth of his first grandchild, and stricken with grief at facing the possibility of losing his precious daughter.

Malcolm had remained by her side since she had fallen ill, only leaving when Adaro insisted that he return to his own home, saying that both of their daughters needed them, and assuring him he would inform Malcolm if anything had changed. Yet thus far, nothing had. Three days of silence and unanswered prayers had left a somber atmosphere over the village. They had all come to adore Quina. Even those who had bullied her in their youth had come to respect and care for the girl who sacrificed so much to learn the art of healing to better serve the village. There were whispers that Quina had pursued the healer's path in an effort to better aid Malcolm who had received his share of injuries running to the girl's aid. There had even been a pool among some of the villagers that Malcolm and Quina would end up together. When it finally came to pass, they all shared in their happiness.

The laughter and jovial tunes had not been heard for some time now. Everyone was concerned for the well being of the young family. Quina and Malcolm had put their lives on hold to help others, and it broke their hearts to see this happening to two people who had sacrificed so much for them.

Malcolm had never felt such a conflicting whirlpool of emotions before. He was overjoyed at the birth of his child, yet it broke his heart to look at her, for all he saw was the face of his beloved. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that Quina would give up her own life for that of their child, he just hoped she would return to them. Their child was still without a name, he could not bring himself to provide the baby girl with a name until Quina was well enough to do it with him. The thought of her slipping from his clutches wrenched his heart.

The unnamed baby wrapped her tiny hand around Malcolm's finger, a single tear rolling down his face as the fear and loneliness he was feeling threatened to overwhelm him.

"I know," he said helplessly. "I miss her too."