Darkness has fallen for the day, and the sky is bathed in obsidian. A sliver of light offers solace on a nearly moonless night. Dawn will greet the day in a few short hours, but as the sun waits to rise and make the day anew the stars seem to fade, as if they too are lacking hope. The queen of potions rests fitfully in her bed as the shift in the universe has her soul off kilter. Her dreamless slumber is boorishly disrupted by a voice. Help me! Help me! Find me! The echo of a voice disturbs her to the core.
Her eyes open widely as she lies beneath the safety of her covers. Several deep breaths do not disrupt the sense that something has gone horribly awry. Her pulse thuds in her ear. As she approaches her window she finds herself being drawn outside. Rationally she knows that she should resist being drawn into the night. Currently there are no pupils at the academy. The sinking feeling propels her from her room.
She inches towards the well secured gate. Not a soul knows that she has ventured out, and it will hours before anyone would notice her missing. She shrugs off the sense of impending doom and focuses on her senses. The moon offers very little light, and the fog has begun to roll in. Even beneath her robe she can tell the air has begun to cool. As she inhales nature whispers about the disruption of barometric pressure. A small sound stops her in her tracks. Initially the quiet weak cry is reminiscent of a tiny kitten. Her keen sense of timing reminds her that it is not kitten season.
Her hand presses against the gate that leads outside the safety of the academy. She forces her way out, closing it behind her. The crying grows more frenzied as she approaches. She steps off the path into the dewy grass. A small shadow crouches beneath a shrub. She lifts her robe to prevent it from growing wet as she crouches in the grass. Her hand comes to rest on the wicker handle of a basket. She gently lifts the basket off the ground, and peers inside. Her heart stops as she lays eyes on the frenzied creature inside.
Hecate swiftly casts the basket aside as she frees the small critter from its prison. As she tries to offer reassurance through simple touch she finds the creature to be covered in a sticky substance. The creature which is haphazardly wrapped in a towel seems cool to the touch. Hecate collects the wicker basket, and secures what she has found close to her chest. She hurriedly passes through the gate locking it behind her.
Her feet can't seem to carry her quick enough as the tiny newborn baby clings to life. Once safely secured inside she scurries back to her quarters, flipping on every light as she goes. She casts her robe aside, and digs through her wardrobe with a single free hand. As she places the infant on the surface of her bed she removes the towel that is soaked in bodily fluid. A poorly secured nappy, and an umbilical cord tied off with a poorly cut piece of elastic cord greets Hecate. The infant's cry is barely a mew. Hecate secures the new life in an old shawl. In a frenzy Hecate holds the infant close to her, and vigorously pats her until the mew transforms into a howl.
The tiny hand that seems too cool presses against her chest. She takes a seat on the edge of the bed, and simply presses the infant against her skin. She feels utterly helpless as the newborn wails into the night. Several moments pass before footsteps approach her door.
"Is everything alright in there?" Ada queries.
"It most certainly is not. Please enter."
Ada finds herself perplexed at the sight of Hecate holding a wailing newborn.
"I thought that I heard someone calling out for help. The search led me outside the gate, where I found this poorly creature in a basket tucked beneath a shrub."
"Who would do such a thing?"
"There are more pressing logistical concerns at this moment, Ada."
"How long do you think the baby was out there?"
Hecate shrugs, "All I know is that she is cold, and I haven't the slightest inclination how to assist a newborn."
"I will wake Miss Tapioca, and I will gather whatever supplies I can find."
"May I suggest anyone else would be better suited for this than I?"
"Not at this moment," Ada responds as she scurries from the room.
Hecate's pulse rises with each wail. The magnitude of the situation does not escape her. She settles herself into a seated position on her bed.
"You have every reason to voice your disgust. One minute you are somewhere that is safe, and warm, and in an instant you are thrust into this world. Your umbilical cord is secured with a cord and you are cast aside in a basket outside the gate. Momentarily you are in the hands of the least qualified individual in the entire academy to care for you."
The cadence of the wail begins to change. Hecate feels like a madwoman as she continues.
"Don't be ashamed, by any means. What I say to the pupils often puts them in waterworks as well. I assure you that I won't take it to heart."
The wailing ceases, and Hecate contemplates whether she should be relieved, or concerned. A closer peek at the infant reveals even respiration, and pink skin. A tiny hand presses against Hecate's chest.
"I wouldn't get too comfortable."