A Promise Through The Bars: The First Series

by Lemon Leopard

Princess Snow White, a title dead to her, is imprisoned one fateful night. For twelve years, she struggles to survive in her cell, slowly losing her faith, her hope, and finally her will to live. Just as she is about to end it all, a woman named Sara is thrown into the cell near hers. Sara asks Snow White to do her a favor. A favor that may change everything.

13. Chapter 13 A Favor Fulfilled

Chapter 13 A Favor Fulfilled

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"Please don't leave me!" I plead, chasing after the white weasel as he scampers down the hall. I gasp for air to relieve my tight lungs, pumping my burning, stubby legs as fast as I can. "Please!" Tears blur my sight. The white weasel reaches the rusty iron bars and slips between them with his skinny body. I come up to the bars and try to squeeze between them. I push myself further between the bars, but they grow so tight against my chest and back that I become trapped between them! They almost squeeze the breath from me.

"NO!" I scream, reaching out for the weasel. The weasel scampers out of my reach and stops and looks back at me.

"How could you leave me!?" I ask the weasel. The white weasel bears his teeth and hisses at me, the fur on his back bristling. His body starts twisting and shrinking. The white fur of his tail falls out until it is long and thin, revealing its pink skin. His graceful paws turn into hideous talons. His big dark eyes turn into beady red ones. His snout narrows and scrunches up. My teary eyes widen. This creature is no longer the beautiful white weasel that was one of my dearest friends, but now he is this hideous, disease ridden rat.

The rat hisses again, turns his back to me, and scampers off around the corner, disappearing from my sight. I…I am completely alone in my imprisonment now. A terrible sting enters my heart—the sting of betrayal.

"Get up, lass," a deep, accented voice speaks from above. A large hand lands on my shoulder and rubs my arm gently, bringing a veil of darkness over my eyes. "Up, lass," the voice says more firmly, but he still rubs my arm gently. The world about me suddenly feels warm on my right side and freezing on my left. Wait, the white weasel turning into the white rat—that is not reality, but rather that is Eliza's head resting on my right shoulder, and that is Eric calling to me trying to rouse me from sleep.

I force my heavy eyes open and lift my gaze to the hunter. His familiar shadow towers above me, the sky behind him dimly lit with first light. Day eight.

"Eliza?" he calls softly, taking his hand from my shoulder. I blink my eyes a few times and let out a long yawn, my body burdened with exhaustion. Eliza whimpers and stirs against me.

"Eliza, wake up," he says more firmly. I look down at Eliza, her heavy head still resting on my shoulder.

"Eliza?" I call to her, my voice hoarse from having just woken up.

Eric rubs her arm more briskly than he did mine, making her stir from sleep. "Eliza, ye have to get up."

She barely lifts her head off my shoulder and looks up at us both with half opened eyes. "What?" she murmurs, sounding more exhausted than me.

"Ye have to get up," Eric repeats. He lets go of her arm and reaches into his satchel, pulling out a flat, round object wrapped in a piece of scratchy looking burlap. "We eat, then we move." He unwraps the burlap, revealing unleavened bread! My hands move before I make the conscious decision to move them, snatching the whole bread out of his hand.

"Sorry," I tell them both, unable to lift my eyes to see the looks on their faces. How shameful, greedy, and embarrassing to just grab the bread like that. I shouldn't have done that. I rip the bread into three pieces, two pieces considerably larger than the third piece. I place the smallest piece in my lap and take the larger two pieces in my hands, offering one piece to Eliza and the other piece to Eric.

"Thank you," Eliza says, taking her piece out of my gloved hand.

"Thank Eric," I say. The ache in my heart lessens, giving me the courage to lift my gaze to him.

He looks down at me, a mild look in his bright eyes. "Keep it. Eat," he says.

My heart lightens. Perhaps he ate before he woke Eliza and me, and I can forget my guilt and embarrassment for snatching the bread out of his hand without any consideration for him. "Have you already eaten?" I ask him.

He shakes his head, dumping a heap of guilt and embarrassment upon me.

"But you must eat too!" I push the bread into his hand, his fingers closing around it to keep it from falling to the earth. "I am the smallest amongst us walking, and I am not carrying another in my belly. I have need for less food."

He frowns down at me. "On the contrary, lass." He tosses the piece of bread into my lap!

My eyes widen. "Eric!—"

"Eat," he says sternly. He turns halfway but stops, shifting his gaze to Eliza briefly. He turns the rest of the way and treads to the edge of the alcove. I sigh and look at Eliza, watching her slowly nibble on her bread. She keeps her eyes downcast, the air about her as swollen as her belly is with her babe. My heart aches terribly for her.

"Are you alright?" I ask her. I cringe from my own words. Is she alright!? What a stupid question to ask! Her husband died only yesterday!

Eliza lifts her weary eyes to me and gives me a weak, yet sweet smile. "I'm as well as can be, dear. How is your wound?"

The ache in my heart turns into a terrible burning pang. She lost her home, all her possessions, and her husband only yesterday. She has an unborn babe that will be birthed any day and is carrying the grief of losing her husband who I know she loves dearly. She has the weight of the world upon her back and no ground beneath her feet to stand on, and yet she still has the strength to care for others. How I wish I had such strength, such goodness. I could pray to the bones of my knees to one day possess her strength and her goodness, but I never will. However, God damn me if I don't care for her to my utmost ability now.

"My wound is fine. Here." I pick up the larger piece of bread and offer it to her, her eyes widening. "Please eat this."

She shakes her head. "Oh no. No, I couldn't—"

"But you must…for your babe."

Her chest stops rising in the middle of her inhale, her wide eyes dropping to the piece of bread in my hand. Her shoulders and chest drop with her audible exhale, and she tentatively accepts the bread from me. She lifts her heavy eyes to me and smiles a little bigger. "Thank you so much."

I force a smile for her. "You are welcome. Please eat."

We eat together. Eliza consumes her two pieces of bread more eagerly than before. I nibble slowly on my piece, doing my best to finish my bread just as she finishes hers. Though I've only known her for a day, she is so aware of those around her that if I was to finish my bread before her, I know she would rush so that Eric and I wouldn't have to wait for her. I do not want her to rush.

"Are ye lasses finished?" Eric asks, drawing our eyes up to him. He stands before us holding an uncorked skin in one hand. I didn't hear him come up to us, but seeing the uncorked skin of ale in his hand makes me realize how dry my mouth is.

Eliza nods slowly while I answer, "Yes."

"Good. Here's some water." He offers Eliza the uncorked skin. "Drink."

"Thank you so much," Eliza says sincerely, accepting the skin of water from him in a dignified manner, a stark contrast to me. She puts the rim to her mouth and drinks from it more eagerly than she consumed her bread. I watch her drink, gulp after gulp going down her throat as she tilts her chin back bit by bit, my mouth growing ever drier. Water or ale, I care not. I just wish I had something to drink, too.

"Here, lass," Eric says, drawing my eyes to him. He moves his arm towards me and I look down at his hand. In his hand is my uncorked skin! "Drink."

"Thank you!" I offer him a brief smile before I grab my skin out of his hand and down the drink in loud gulps, barely noticing the tasteless, dry water going down my throat. I wonder, did Eric fill my skin with water and not ale because of my growing love for ale? I finish half of the water in my skin and lower it to my lap. Even though this water is dry, it relieves my dry mouth. I look up at Eric, a hint of a smirk on his mouth and in his eyes. Seeing his smirk helps to lift the load off me a little, making it just bearable enough to shoulder. I wonder, is he smirking at me because of the water and not the ale that he put in my skin?

I smile at him again and ask him, "Are you trying to be a better influence on me?"

His smirk grows into a grin, his eyes alight with surprise. "How'd ye know!?"

I shrug my shoulders, my smile growing into something genuine. "What else could explain this water?" I lift my half full skin, the water sloshing about inside.

Eric nods once, the surprise in his eyes dimming. He relaxes his smile while he shifts his gaze to Eliza. "Are ye ready, Eliza?"

I let go of my smile and look at Eliza, seeing the corners of her mouth dropping. She was smiling just now. She might have enjoyed that little exchange Eric and I shared, or she was smiling over something else.

Eliza nods and offers the corked skin back to Eric. "I'm ready."

"Good." He takes the skin from her, stores it in his satchel, and offers his hand to her. She accepts his hand—her hands are gloved like mine. Eric helps her to her feet. She wobbles back and forth on her knees, nearly falling down! I spring to my feet to help catch her, but I halt when I see Eric's hand still holding fast to hers, keeping her from falling.

"Find yer feet," he encourages her. He continues holding her hand. She teeters back and forth less and less until she stands steady.

"I've found my balance," Eliza says, loosening her fingers about his hand. He nods and slowly lets go of her hand, but he does not lower his hand, his eyes watching her and her feet intently. My heart softens for him more than it should. To see the care and concern he has for Eliza proves that he is a good man with a heart better than mine. Is he the only good man left? Perhaps not. The father of those two little boys that I saw dueling in the street yesterday appeared to be a good man. He stood between the black glass knight and his family knowing that he might die, yet he still stood between them.

"Listen, Eliza, I willnae be takin' ye to Hammond's fortress," Eric says. "It's too far for ye."

Eliza's eyes widen with alarm. "I know I cannot make it to Hammond's fortress, but where will you be taking me!?"

"I'll be takin' ye to a farm close to here." He places a comforting hand on her shoulder. There's his care and concern for her again; to inform her of his plan, remembering that she was asleep when we spoke of her. "It's about a day's walk. Can ye make that?"

Eliza falters and looks down at her swollen belly. She wraps her arms about her belly, cradling her unborn babe despite the skin and muscle of her belly separating her arms from her child. "I'm…I think I can," she says, sounding unsure.

"Are you sure?" I ask her while Eric takes his hand from her shoulder.

She lifts her head to me a little, never taking her eyes from her belly. "I'll do my best," she says with more resolution. I frown at her and wrap my arms about her shoulders in a gentle hug, letting her rest her forehead against my chest.

"Jerome and Annabelle own the farm," Eric says. "They're good people. They'll help ye with whate'er ye need. When yer ready, Jerome and his son, Louis, will take ye wherever ye need to go."

Eliza nods against my chest. "My hus-Geoffrey's family…they're far up north…in a town called Saint Aslaug."

I glance at Eric, seeing him nod. "Be sure to tell them that," he says.

Eliza nods again. "I will." She lifts her head from my chest and looks at us both. "Thank you so much…both of you. If you had not come to my home seeking help, my child and I would be…" she falls silent, her shoulders trembling beneath my arms with her shaky breath. I keep my eyes on Eric, unsure of what to say nor do aside from holding her.

Eric looks at me. "Let's move," he says, turning halfway and nodding for us to move.

I nod silently at him and take one arm from Eliza, keeping my other arm about her to turn her around and gently guide her toward the brightening horizon, the waning night at our backs. Eric lets us pass him before following close after us. The ash and small rocks blanketing the earth grind beneath our steps. On we continue.

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Daylight wanes on the horizon, the sky starting to dim. Soon, we should be arriving at Jerome and Annabelle's farm. I assume we will not stop until we reach there. We are crossing a barren landscape layered with ash and rocks with no shelter of any kind. Knowing Eric, he will not stop us until we have found proper shelter for the night. So, it's one small step after the other, just…one small step after the other. The small rocks grind beneath our steps constantly because of us taking our steps at different times. I keep my arm about Eliza's shoulders and gladly pace my steps with her short strides, grateful for the rest it gives my aching feet and stiff legs. God, I have never walked so much in my whole life! This past week has been one hellish trek with how quickly Eric moves. I cannot imagine four more months of this, but what choice do I have?

Eric's watchful gaze weighs on our backs like two large shields, watching over us like both the shepherd who watches over his flock and like the sheepdog who defends the flock. Never have I felt so safe and secure in my whole life, not even before Ravenna usurped papa's throne.

I always felt like a little lamb wandering about the expansive, barely guarded fields of the palace with no one to guide my steps. I rarely saw mama and papa. I had William at my side, but that was only for a few months at a time. Then there was Wessel—a brief sting enters my heart, but I do my best to ignore it—good old Wessel. There was no one before Ravenna who was there for me more than him. A powerful, burning force spills out of my half carved heart and fills up my chest—a visceral, nearly all-consuming anger trying to mask the pain of betrayal.

Even though Wessel came to visit me everyday with his pet white weasel sitting contently on his shoulders, he would have to leave me to fulfill his duties. It was not until Ravenna came into my life that I had never known such constant companionship. For the first time in my life, I had someone I could go to for help no matter where she was and know that she would stop what she was doing to help me, even if it was as simple as her being there for me. But Wessel abandoned me out of cowardice just as the white weasel turns into the disease ridden white rat and leaves me to my imprisonment. Ravenna…I sigh softly, my anger for Wessel evaporating like the waters of the gulch do for the dry season, leaving that vulnerable fish to be suffocated and burnt beneath the scorching sun. Even now, I struggle to believe that Ravenna, the same woman who was there for me as no one else was, would imprison me and now try to kill me. I know in my mind that she is seeking to carve out my heart and eat it, but does she want to? It is Maacthis' evil driving her to such lengths, no doubt, but I wonder if there is something within her heart, that last shred of goodness, that wishes things could be different. There must be. Even though she has lost her way, her intention was to rid this world of evil. It's a good and noble intention. She just lost her way, I think…I hope. A souring ache enters my half carved heart. I want so badly to believe that she has some shred of goodness left within her. I still love her. What I would not give to have her at my side again to guide me and comfort me like the mother I thought she was…but Ravenna might be too consumed by Maacthis' evil to be brought back.

My eyes prickle with tears, but I sniffle and hold them back, turning my mind to Eric. I have never been with someone for as long as I have him. He has been there with me and for me for, what has it been now, seven, eight days? He has kept watch for any creature and any man that would bring me harm every night since I escaped my imprisonment. I have never been in someone's company for that long, especially with someone who has convinced me to place a great deal of trust in him.

I swallow hard, my stomach knotting with nerves at what I'm about to do. I glance back at Eric. His eyes shift from the horizon down to me, darkened beneath the shadow of his hood that he had drawn over his head some time ago, but they are so open and blue—blue like the sky I have not seen for fourteen years. Something warm and pleasant drapes itself over my half carved heart. It—it pushes away the frightening darkness of Maacthis' evil! God, what is this? What is this force that has the power to push back Maacthis' evil!? God...God whatever it is, it soothes my half carved heart like balm, closing the wound that has bled for fourteen years. Could it...could it have something to do with Eric? It happened when he looked at me.

I hesitate, my stomach fluttering like a bunch of moths trapped inside me, but I give him a small smile. He raises his brows at me and smiles back, seeming pleasantly surprised that I am smiling at him despite our current predicament. My smile leaves me, my heart sinking. His smile leaves him, too, the surprise dimming in his eyes. I frown and turn my head to Eliza. Here I am thinking about myself when here Eliza is, almost alone in this world save for her unborn babe.

I keep one arm about her shoulder to give her some comfort. Her eyes are downcast on her swollen belly, both of her arms wrapped about her belly in a tight embrace. Her cheeks are wet with tears, her eyes dark and heavy. I doubt I am giving her any comfort. God, I would give up the rest of my life if that would somehow bring Geoffrey back from the dead and reunite him with Eliza and their unborn babe, but no one can breathe life into the dead. I question if God could.

"Hmph!" Eliza grimaces and squeezes her eyes shut, digging her nails into her swollen belly. My heart picks up its pace, putting me on edge.

"Are you alright?" I ask her, my suspicions growing. She's in pain. Childbirth comes with pain. I'm not sure how much, but I've heard some women in the palace labor in silence and other women scream their lungs out. I wrap my free arm about her in a gentle hug and rub her arm, trying to help distract her from her pain. She takes a deep, forceful breath in and opens her eyes, lifting her fingers from her belly.

She glances at me and forces a smile for me, but it's hardly a smile. "I'm fine, dear."

God, her selflessness…astounding. I shake my head at her. "You're a good, selfless woman, Eliza, but I see that you're in pain."

"Oh," Eliza says softly, shaking her head in denial. "It's just a little pain, but I'm fine–ngh!" She grimaces again, clutching at her swollen belly as if she was just stabbed. I stop walking with her and place my hand on her belly. Her belly is as hard as rock! The top of her belly lifts and stiffens beneath my hand! My God, is that her babe I feel moving within her!? Or is that her belly contracting in an attempt to expel her babe from her body!?

"We should…keep moving," Eliza huffs in pain.

"Are ye in labor?" Eric asks, stopping before Eliza. I glance up at him, meeting his worried eyes. He shakes his head at me and looks down at Eliza.

I look to Eliza, watching her shake her head in denial still. "I've—" she swallows and lifts her teary gaze to Eric—"I have – been in pain since first light, but it has been getting progressively worse–God help me!" She breaks down crying, going down to her knees on the ash covered ground!

"Eliza!" I drop to my knees beside her, holding her tightly. God, she can't give birth now! We're out in the open with night nearly upon us! Something will hear her cries of pain and smell her blood! Something will hear her babe wail!

"Eric, what do we do!?" I ask, looking up at him.

"We get to that farm," he replies firmly, calmly. Eliza whimpers and trembles in my arms, her belly shifting and tensing against my side! Eric stoops towards us and picks up Eliza in his arms, taking her out of mine.

"Get up, lass. Let's move!" he orders with more urgency. I leap to my feet and start briskly towards the darkening horizon, leading the way to wherever this farm is. I glance back, Eric following close behind me with Eliza curled up in his arms, clutching at her belly. Her pain is contorting her thin, pretty face without relent now, tears streaming down her cheeks. I know that her tears are for her late husband and for her unborn babe, not because of her pain. A short, painful cry escapes Eliza's trembling mouth. Her cheeks glisten with her tears and her brow shines with perspiration.

Eric looks up at me, his eyes now wide with urgency. "The farm is up the hill, lass! Run ahead, let'em know we're comin'!"

I look ahead up at the hill, the hill so tall, towering high above me! I've walked for too long. The thought of running makes my stomach churn, but I have no choice! I force my tired, aching legs to move. I run up the hill as fast as I can, my legs burning. My lungs start burning despite my heaving breaths. I climb and climb up the hill, the hill seeming to grow the farther I go! That's not possible, though! God, how I want to slow down, but I can't! I must keep moving for Eliza and her babe!

A terrible pain appears beneath my right lung, sharp stabbing pain with each breath I take! "God!" I pant between my heaving breaths, my chest so tight, the pain so great that I can barely breathe. I clutch my side, but I keep running.

Somehow, between this pant and that pant, my foot lands on flat ground, and then my other foot. I almost heave a sigh of relief, but I keep running. There on the horizon is the farm! I race towards it, barely taking in the bobbing farm as I run faster than I have ever ran towards it. There's three separate buildings, all looking the same, all enclosed within a primitive looking outer fence. There is more fence within creating different enclosures. I head for the only building with the glowing yellow windows. That must be where the family resides!

I reach the fence and climb over it, nearly tripping as I pull myself onto the other side. I take off for the house with the glowing yellow windows, passing by an enclosure with the shuffling of small hooves, the creatures bleat, bleat, bleating.

"HELLO!?" I call out between my heaving breaths, reaching the door to their home. "HELLO!?" I rap on the door loudly.

A dog barks from within the house. God, the last thing I need is to have a dog attack me!

"PLEASE HELP!" I huff, my lungs burning, the sharp stabbing in my side growing worse. I clutch at it with one hand and pound on the door with my other hand. "JEROME!? ANNABELLE!? ERIC SENT ME! HE'S ON HIS WAY!"

Something dark flies across the glowing window, drawing my eyes to the window.

"Who's there!?" a man calls from within the house.

"GRETA!" I answer back, withdrawing my fist from the door to clutch my side. "I'M TRAVELING WITH A MAN CALLED ERIC! HE—" The sound of a bolt scraping across wood halts me, like the man within is unbolting the door! I back up instinctively ready to flee should that vicious dog charge out at me.

"LASS!?" Eric calls! I wheel around to see Eric jogging up to me, doing his best to not jostle Eliza too much.

I heave a sigh of relief. "Eric!—" SQUEAL! of iron hinges. A beam of bright fire light falls upon me. HAU! HAU! HAU! that same dog barks! I spin back to face the shadow of a burly man standing in the doorway aiming a crossbow right at me! A smaller shadow of a man stands beside the bigger shadow, holding back the barking, growling hound. My heart skips a beat, my stomach lurching at the sight of the spit flying from the hound's jaws!

"God no!" I hold my hands up. "I mean no harm!"

"JEROME!" Eric says, stepping in front of me, completely hiding me with his large frame and completely hiding Jerome from my sight. The hound pipes down and whimpers fearfully. My eyes widen as I lower my hands. Is the mere sight of Eric enough to frighten that vicious dog!? I swallow and peek past Eric's arm. There the grey hound is shaking, his tail tucked between his legs! God, at least I'm not the only one frightened by the mere sight of Eric! He even scares vicious hounds. Eliza's whimpering pulls my eyes up to her.

"E…Eric?" the man who called to me asks. My heart aches for poor Eliza. I come around to Eric's side and brush Eliza's hair back from her soaked brow in a poor attempt to soothe her.

"Jerome," Eric says, his voice unusually quiet and gruff. The tense air between the two men is so palpable that it pulls my attention from the woman laboring in Eric's arms. The burly shadow of the man standing in the doorway has lowered his crossbow, but his broad shoulders are stiff, the air about him almost hostile.

"Why are you here?" Jerome asks, his voice growing steadily louder. "Who is she?" Jerome points to Eliza and shifts his finger to me. "And who IS SHE!?"

"She's Greta, this is Eliza," Eric explains quickly. "They're both good women and they need help, 'specially Eliza. She's laborin' and 'bout to birth her bairn."

"WHAT!?" Jerome asks, angry and shocked. "WHAT THE HELL IS THIS!?—"

"There's no time to catch up on the good ole days!" Eric says as he steps towards the threshold, but Jerome stands in his way, blocking entry. Eric growls much like the hound did at me. "JEROME—"

"WHY SHOULD I LET YOU IN!? AND WHY WOULD I BRING TWO STRANGERS INTO MY HOME!?" Jerome says.

My brows furrow, my patience already gone. "Eric, I thought you said he was your friend!"

"FRIEND!?" Jerome mocks, the shadow of his head turning my way.

"Quiet, lass!" Eric hisses at me and looks back at Jerome, his harsh words wounding me. Did I overstep my bounds? Did I make things worse for Eliza? "Fine, dinnae let us in, but let Eliza in! She's givin' birth right now and there're wolves out here!"

My heart skips a beat. Wolves!?

"All the more reason I should not bring a bleeding woman into my home!" Jerome says. He's cold and heartless. I thought Eric said Jerome was a good man—

"OME!" someone speaks from within the house, stopping all of us. We all look to the doorway to see a petite, womanly shadow step into the threshold. She comes up to Jerome's side and places her hand on his arm, his size dwarfing her. Jerome looks down at the woman beside him.

"Annabelle," he says her name sternly, warning her. The woman merely shakes her head, unintimidated by her husband's dominance. Either she is a fearless woman, or her husband, while he may speak sternly with her, has always treated her kindly.

"Let them in, papa," a soft voice says, drawing our eyes down to a smaller girl peeking past the doorframe. She cannot have more than ten years. "Mama wants you to let them in."

"I know that's what Mama wants," Jerome says, his voice gentler with the little girl. The little girl must be his daughter.

"Fine," Jerome says reluctantly. He slowly stands aside, opening his home to us!

"Thank ye, Annabelle!" Eric enters quickly into the home with Eliza, disappearing inside. I almost follow after him, but my feet stay rooted to the earth. I'm not sure why, but just seeing this whole family of strangers standing there in the doorway with their vicious hound now cowering in fear of Eric…my stomach flutters with the same moths still trapped inside me, all my nerves buzzing. I feel as if I am intruding, and perhaps I am. This home is not that large. Already four people reside in the home and three more just entered. If I enter, that will be a fourth in their home taking up space, warmth, and air to breathe.

I take a step back, the thought of sleeping with the goats more appealing to me than entering into this already crowded home—Annabelle steps out into the cold and takes my hand!

"Oh no, I wish not to intrude!" I say, trying to pull my hand out of Annabelle's rough one, but the little girl steps out into the cold and takes hold of my other hand. Annabelle smiles sweetly at me, no words leaving her mouth.

"It's alright, milady," the little girl says. Both her and Annabelle drag me into the glowing warmth of their overcrowded home. "Mama and I will need your help to deliver the babe."

My heart drops at the little girl's words. "What?" I squeak, the sight of the home and its occupants overwhelming me. The home is cluttered. Blankets and furs are strewn across the floor before the hearth, as if the whole family is laying before the hearth for warmth. A young boy sits before the hearth amid the mess of blankets and furs, his shirt and trousers ragged, his feet bare. He watches me with dark, meek eyes beneath his shaggy black hair. He wraps his arms protectively about a smaller boy sitting in his lap, the smaller boy looking to have no more than three, perhaps four years. The smaller boy stares at me, too, holding a whittled toy horse in his pudgy hands. He looks just like the older boy—who must be his brother—except his hair and his eyes are fair like Eric's.

"Where do I take her?" Eric asks firmly, yet composed, perhaps a little relieved. Eliza's whimpering nearly matches the hound's whimpering. I look briefly at Eric and Eliza and heave a sigh of relief. Eliza is curled up in Eric's arms, her face still caught in pain, but they both appear a little more at ease. Eliza is safe. Her unborn babe is safe from the wolves. We are all safe. There's that, at least.

"Take her to our bedroom," Jerome says. Annabelle releases my hand and goes to Eric. She grabs his elbow and leads him to a closed door on the other side of the room.

"This way," the little girl says, tightening her hold of my hand and leading me towards the same door. I glance back at Jerome and the boy who held back the hound. Jerome watches me with dark, distrustful eyes, his hair and beard almost as unkempt as Eric's. I glance down at the boy with the hound. The boy is now kneeling beside the grey hound stroking him. The boy looks a bit older than the two boys sitting at the hearth and the girl leading me, his hair and eyes as black as night. I look down at the little girl's silky black hair and at Annabelle's equally black hair. All of them are native Taborans, but the little boy sitting in his elder brother's lap does not have the eyes nor the hair to be considered native. Where did he come from? Did Jerome and Annabelle find him one day and take him into their home as they just took Eliza and her unborn babe in?

Annabelle walks ahead of Eric and Eliza and opens their bedroom door, opening up the pitch black room. She picks up a rush holder off the ground and carries the lit rush into the room, providing enough light to see inside. There's a bed and a divider in the room, as can be expected. Eric carries Eliza in after Annabelle and goes to the bedside, laying her down gently on the bed's shoddy furs. A short cry escapes Eliza's quivering lips, her whole body trembling, her brow and cheeks glistening in the firelight.

"Don't be afraid," the little girl tells me, pulling me unwillingly into the room. Eric steps back from the bed and makes his way for the door, passing by me. Panic rises in me, threatening to take hold.

"Eric!?" I call after him, stopping him in the doorway. He turns back halfway, his heavy eyes crossing mine. "Don't leave! I still need you!" I tell him, my voice shaking with fear and tears.

He shakes his head at me. "I'm no' leavin'. Ye have my word." He holds my gaze, not turning from me yet. My heart swells and pushes against my sternum, barely able to beat anymore. His eyes, so open and blue...how I wish I could run to him and hide myself within his protective, caring arms. Despite his harsh words a moment ago when he was trying to persuade Jerome to let us in, I still long for the safety his body gives me.

"Ye'll be alright, lass," he tells me. "Yer goin' to see a miracle tonight. When ye do, all will be better." I'll see a miracle tonight? When I do, all will be better? What does he mean? Eric turns from me, pulling the door shut after him.

The little girl tugs on my hand, pulling my attention back to her and Eliza now laboring fully on the bed. "My name is Mary," the little girl says as she leads me to the bedside. "This is my mama, Annabelle." Mary gestures to her mother while her mother pours water into a wood cup and gathers a stack of linens out of the drawer of the old bedside table. Mary turns to me, looking up at me with her big dark eyes, a glimmer of firelight catching in them. "Your name is Greta?"

I nod shakily, my whole body trembling with fear. I glance at Eliza, seeing the pain still contorting her pretty face. Tears stream down her cheeks and sweat glistens on her skin, her body trembling more than mine. I cannot imagine the pain she must be feeling. God forbid I should ever feel that, nor poor sweet Mary. Thump, thump – Annabelle comes up to me and forces the cup of water into my shaking hand.

"Give Eliza some water to drink," Mary instructs me, but I watch Annabelle go to the foot of the bed with the stack of linens. She sets the linens on the edge of the bed and lifts Eliza's skirts to her hips, exposing her lower half. I tremble more, barely seeing between her raised knees. I–I cannot fathom a fully developed babe coming out of such a small, sensitive place. God, but where else will the babe come out!?

"GO!" Mary pushes me towards the head of the bed. I swallow for the hundredth time and sit down on the very edge of the bed, my hand shaking so much that some of the water splashes out onto my hand and dress.

"Eliza?" I call to her timidly, unsure of how she'll respond. Eliza moans with closed lips and barely opens her tear filled eyes to meet my gaze.

"I–I have some water for you." God, I need to stop shaking so! I am not the one laboring to bring forth new life! Eliza has been there for me since we first met, and now I must be here for her! I slip my free hand beneath her head, her hair soaked with sweat, and gently lift her head. I put the cup to her lips and tilt the cup just a little. The last thing I want to do is pour too much water into her mouth and cause her to choke. Eliza squeezes her eyes shut and slurps from the cup, her whole head trembling in my hand.

"Mama wants you to push!" Mary says from the foot of the bed. Eliza raises her trembling hand and pushes the cup away from her mouth. She props herself up on her elbows and scrunches her face, tightening her whole body. She holds her breath and bears down, pushing with all her strength.

"Mama wants you to relax!" Mary says, somehow translating her mother's silence. Eliza lets go of her breath and pants, tears streaming endlessly down her face and neck. I can only imagine that Geoffrey and her unborn babe are all she can think about. Knowing that he's dead, that he'll never see his babe be born. My heart aches bitterly for the three of them. This poor babe will never know his father. He will never know how good of a man Geoffrey was and how much his father loved Eliza and him.

Eliza clenches her jaw and holds her breath, bearing down on her swollen stomach.

"I see the top of his head! Keep pushing!" Mary encourages. The top of his head!?

"GOD!" Eliza cries out to Him above and releases her breath.

"Here," I say softly, offering her a quick sip of water. She gulps down the water, the sweat glistening on her throat as the lump of water passes down into her stomach.

She opens her watery eyes to me and nods her trembling head. "Thank you," she tells me, her voice hoarse and shaky.

I nod quickly. "You're welcome—" Eliza tenses up and pushes again, holding her breath until her face starts turning blue!

"Breathe, Eliza!" I say, setting the water on the bedside table with a clank. I stroke her cheek in an attempt to remind her to breathe. Eliza blows off her breath, sucks in another one, and holds it. She pushes down again.

"The babe is coming! Keep pushing!" Mary says.

"Keep breathing, Eliza," I encourage her gently, scooting onto the bed behind her. I let her rest her head in my lap. I question if this is doing any good, but I'm not sure what else I can do other than hold her and offer her encouraging words. "Keep breathing."

The moments seem to crawl by with Eliza continuing to push and relax, push and relax, push and relax. Eliza doesn't scream aloud. She labors in silence, tears spilling down her cheeks with abandon.

"Geoffrey!" she whispers his name and clutches at her heart. I frown down at her and place my hand over hers. She grabs my hand and clings to it, pushing again and relaxing. I take my hand from hers only long enough to give her another sip of water. I return the cup to the bedside table and offer her my hand again, which she quickly grabs hold of. She pushes again, and again, and again, the rests between each push growing shorter and shorter.

"His head is out! It's just his shoulders now! You're nearly there!" Mary says. I look up at her, the biggest grin spreading her mouth. I straighten my back and stretch my head to see past Eliza's swollen belly. My breath leaves me, my heart nearly stopping at the sight. Annabelle is reaching between Eliza's legs, skillfully and carefully cradling the tiny head of a human being! Never…never have I seen a head so small nor a face so tiny—and so squished. Eliza tenses and pushes.

"Keep pushing! Keep pushing!" Mary chants. Annabelle repositions her hands about the babe and angles him down.

"One more push! Maybe two!" Mary says.

"Oh God," I murmur, something so soft and tender filling my hurting heart at the sight of the babe about to be born, slick with his mother's lifeblood and water.

Yer goin' to see a miracle tonight. When ye do, all will be better. My eyes widen, his words and his voice as clear in my mind as if I am hearing him speak now. How right he was. How right he is! I'm about to see a miracle, and when I do, all will be better. All the fear, all the worry, all the doubt—just as that mysterious force soothed my half carved heart, so will this babe be to Eliza's grieving heart. Even though Geoffrey is not here with her now, this babe will be her joy and her reason to live. Even though Geoffrey is not here with her, apart of him will always be with her in her babe that she will hold to her chest in a moment. I could tell her all this, but just knowing her in the short time that I have, I have no need to. She knows this already. She expects this. A miracle is about to happen. When it does, all will be better. The pain will still be present in Eliza's heart just as Maacthis' evil still dwells within me, but there will be comfort and hope amidst the pain. That is enough to make all better.

"One more push!" Mary says. Eliza tightens up her whole body, lifting her head out of my lap, and pushes with the last of her strength. Annabelle tips the babe a bit more. The babe falls out of Eliza onto the linens spread out beneath him, his skinny torso and face flushed pink, his tiny hands and feet blue. The babe squirms on the linens and grimaces, drawing his legs and arms close to his body. He opens his mouth wide in a silent cry, showing his toothless, red-pink gums. My breath sticks in my throat and I freeze up with the babe. Silence fills the room…the babe jerks his arms and legs and his wail fills the room!

"Oh!" Eliza gasps with a smile and tears, sobbing with the bittersweetness of this moment. My breath unsticks, and I gasp with relief and joy. Mary laughs gleefully while Annabelle grins and scrubs the babe down vigorously with the linens, cleaning his mother's lifeblood and water from him. An egg-white cord still connects the babe's belly to Eliza.

"You had a daughter, Eliza!" Mary says with a big smile.

"A girl!?" Eliza says tearfully. "I knew it! I told him! I told him he'd have his little girl!" She sobs more, her words like a knife to my heart. Stinging tears well in my eyes and spill down my cheeks. A little girl. Did papa rejoice like this over me when he learned that I was not the son he needed, but the daughter that mama prayed for? Annabelle finishes wiping the wailing babe clean and motions to Mary.

"Yes, Mama." Mary walks around the bed to the bedside table and picks up a knife out of the basin of water. She turns and goes back to Annabelle's side, offering her the knife.

My smiles lessens while my worry grows. "What is the knife for?" I ask.

Annabelle takes the knife from Mary and cuts a thin strip from the edge of one of the clean linens.

"She's going to tie off the cord and cut it," Mary says.

"Oh," I murmur. I scrub the tears from my eyes and watch Annabelle with intrigue. Annabelle ties the strip of linen tightly about the cord close to the babe's belly. She reaches into her pile of linens, pulls out a wood bowl, and places it beside the babe. She pulls the cord taut over the bowl and sets the knife just above the tie constricting the cord. She slices through the cord cleanly. Blood squirts out of the untied end of the cord, but Annabelle angles the severed end down into the bowl, the bowl collecting the excess blood.

"Wow," I say. All this is so amazing. I never knew how intimately connected a babe is to her mother. They are literally connected by a cord filled with blood, shared blood! Just…what a beautiful miracle.

The babe continues wailing, stopping to breath, and wailing again, jerking her little arms and legs in spasms. Worry fills me. "Is it normal for the babe to move like that?" I ask.

Annabelle glances up at me and nods, grinning widely, bearing all her teeth. Something stirs in the pit of my stomach, a sneaking suspicion. Why does she not speak? She called Jerome's name only once at the threshold, but even then it sounded somewhat garbled. Is she retarded in some way? Annabelle pulls a clean linen out of the pile, spreads it out on the bed, and lifts the babe up from the soiled linen, the babe's wailing turning to blood curdling screaming. A rush of panic goes through me. Is Annabelle hurting the babe!?

Annabelle laughs silently while Mary grins again.

"She doesn't like being lifted! How odd!" Mary says, laughing with her nearly mute mother.

"Is the babe in pain!?" I ask, my body ready to spring to the foot of the bed and snatch the babe out of Annabelle's hands. Annabelle looks up at me and laughs silently while Mary laughs aloud.

"No, the babe is completely fine! It's a good sign that she's crying like this. It means she's healthy!" Mary says, but I keep my eyes on Annabelle and Eliza's newborn daughter. Annabelle moves the babe over to the clean linen and lays her down on the cloth with great care. The babe's blood curdling scream softens to her wailing while Annabelle swaddles the babe tightly within the linen. Annabelle picks up the babe, the babe's wailing turning into that terrible blood curdling scream again.

Mary laughs harder with her mother and says, "Such a strange babe!"

I start frowning, but the sound of Eliza's joyful laughter draws my eyes down to her. She beams from ear to ear. The last of my worry disappears when Eliza yanks off her gloves and takes the babe out of Annabelle's arms into her own. Eliza places the babe upon her chest, looking down at her daughter. The room falls eerily silent, and so does the babe. Frustration gathers under my skin. All I see is the top of Eliza's head and the bottom half of the swaddled bundle in her arms. What is the look on Eliza's face!? Happy!? Sad!? Why has the babe fallen so silent!? What is happening!?

I lean forward as much as I can without appearing too nosy and peak over Eliza's shoulder. My heart swells so much at the sight that it struggles to beat. The babe is fast asleep on her mother's chest, her little hands curled into tight fists. Eliza looks down at her babe with a smile so soft and tender and so full of joy and relief…it's the smile only a new mother has when she is holding her babe in her arms for the first time. I wonder, did my mother smile like Eliza when she first held me in her arms? Was it so soft and tender and so full of joy and relief that it brought everyone to silence?

The babe grimaces suddenly and opens her mouth in a silent cry…and she starts wailing. The silence vanishes from the room with the snap of a finger.

"She's hungry," Mary says.

"Oh!" Eliza says, looking up at Mary. "Of course she is! Uh…" she drifts off, a look of uncertainty crossing her face, and she looks up at Annabelle. "Could you…show me how to feed her?"

Annabelle nods with a small smile and takes the babe carefully out of Eliza's arms. Eliza lowers her hands from her babe and starts pulling off her coat. I frown and look away to give Eliza some privacy. Perhaps I should leave and give her some true privacy. It will be one less set of eyes seeing her in such a vulnerable state, watching her, perhaps even judging her while she learns how to put her newborn to her breast.

"I think I should step out now and give you some privacy," I say, scrambling off the bed and heading swiftly for the door.

"Thank you, Greta!" Eliza calls after me as I grab the door handle. I halt for a brief moment and glance back at her. She smiles at me sweetly, gratitude gleaming in her eyes. "You've done so much for me!"

I almost frown, but I stop and return her smile. "What do you mean? I only gave you three sips of water!"

Eliza smiles bigger and shakes her head at me. "I can't tell if that's false modesty, ignorance, or humility, but it doesn't change all you've done for me. You and Eric both. I'm not sure how I can repay you."

I laugh awkwardly and shift on my feet, eager to be out of this room already. "How about when I must birth a babe, you help me."

Eliza's smile softens and she nods eagerly. "That sounds like a deal!"

I laugh once, though it sounds like a squeak more than a laugh. I pull the door open and take one step out of the bedroom. "I'll leave you now. Good luck!"

"Thank you!" Eliza calls after me. I force one last smile for her and take the other step out of the room, shutting the door as quietly as I can. I heave a sigh of relief and stare at the door for a moment, taking in all the little wood grains of the door. All my muscles start unraveling. God, I had no idea how tense I was in that room. It's silent now. No wailing babe, no laughter, no crying women. Just the crackling and popping of the fire in the hearth.

Soft footsteps approach, his towering presence coming over me like an embrace of safety. I turn to face Eric, tilting my head all the way back just to meet his soft gaze. My jaw drops at the sight of him. His face is scrubbed clean of grime. All his hair is tied back at the nape of his neck and his beard is neater, cleaner somehow.

"Ye alright?" he whispers, his two words gentle and caring. My already swollen heart pounds against my sternum. I suck in a desperate breath, my chest and shoulders weighing as much as a big sack of rocks. How I want to fall into his arms and lean upon him for support, to reach up and touch his face, to feel the warmth of his skin, to feel the safety he gives me, but I keep the three feet of space between us.

I nod. "I'm fine. Eliza is well. Her daughter is…beautiful and…just…" words leave me, images of the sweet babe filling up my mind. Such a miracle.

A small smile spreads Eric's mouth, his eyes catching the firelight crackling and popping in the hearth. "Is all better?" he asks me, his voice soft but gruff, striking that particular deep pitch that sends a shiver down my spine.

A tender, almost painful smile spreads my lips. "You were right!" I tell him quietly. "When I saw her smile, the love in Eliza's eyes as she looked upon her daughter, I…" Tears well in my eyes, but I hold them back. "It truly was a miracle. There's still the pain, but…it's better."

His smile lessens a little, but it doesn't leave him. "Ye should get some rest." He places his bear-sized hand on my shoulder. I breathe out softly, savoring the weight of his strong hand upon me. "We're gonna stay two nights here. Then we'll continue on to Hammond's fortress the followin' morn."

My smile drops, worry filling me. "Are you sure we can afford to stay here for two nights? Is it safe? How far behind is Finn?"

"Shh," he quiets me softly, squeezing my shoulder in an attempt to comfort me, though his smile leaves him. "Easy, lass. From what ye told me about 'im, I'm guessin' Finn made it out of the dark forest, but it will take him time to find someone else who knows the forest, let alone someone willin' to go into it again!" He takes his hand from my shoulder, leaving me vulnerable and exposed. "It wasnae Finn who attacked Hymark, but a random raid of that old hag's that we were unfortunate enough to be caught in." A terrible pang enters my heart. A random raid? That's all that that death and destruction of the innocent was? A random raid!? "We have time to rest and put together some supplies," Eric continues, oblivious to the anger, the want to hate, waging war in my heart. "We're no' prepared for the journey ahead, and Jerome has been gracious enough to give us some supplies and two of his horses if we stay an extra day and help him with his chores."

I shake my head, my fear of Finn still persisting despite all the niceties Eric just spouted. "Are you sure it will be that difficult for Finn to find someone else who also knows the dark forest? He found you! Pretty quickly, too, if I'm not mistaken."

Eric sighs, his strong shoulders dropping beneath some unseen weight. "I made myself pretty easy to find that day. Believe me." He shakes his head in reprove of himself. That...is the easiest thing for me to believe. I saw the spectacle he made of himself in Hymark. No doubt something similar transpired just before Finn found him.

"We can afford two nights here," Eric says, breaking the silence that I did not realize was here until now.

"Are you sure!? I refuse to bring Finn anywhere near Eliza and her newborn, nor anywhere near Jerome and his family—"

"Ye willnae. I kicked Finn into a bed of black blight shrooms. I saw him inhale their spores. A lot of 'em. No matter what power his hag sister has, breathin' in the host of spores he did are enough to put any man down for days," he answers firmly, no hesitation, no clear calculation from him.

"Hmm," I hum, unsure whether I should take confidence and reassurance in his seamless answer or question if he is lying only to get me to stay here for two nights. No matter what I say, no matter how I press him, he will keep saying that we have enough time to stay here without putting Jerome and his family and Eliza and her newborn at risk. I still cannot shake the resistance Jerome had to us when we arrived, especially to Eric. "Why was Jerome so upset with you when we first got here? He acted as if…," I nearly lose my words, unsure of how to word this. "You said he was your good friend. A good friend does not greet another the way he greeted us, you."

A deep frown drags Eric's mouth down. "He is my good friend. We jus'...," he trails off, his face twisting with uneasiness.

A small, guiltful pang touches my heart. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked."

"Nae, yer right to ask." He shakes his head and forces the frown from his face, leaving a look that is caught dangerously between mildness and anger. "When we last saw each other, I dinnae say goodbye."

My eyes widen. I was not expecting those last words to leave his mouth. "Why not!?"

His frown creeps back. "Because I was too damn proud at the time."

I return his frown. How I wish he would tell me more about what had happened, but the vagueness of his answers...I cannot press him anymore. I barely know him. Hell, I don't know him at all. He, too, knows nothing about me. Most everything he thinks he knows of me is a lie, or at best a great twisting of the truth. A sudden yawn forces its way up my throat and out of my mouth.

Eric smirks at me. "Ye should sleep. Follow me." He turns and starts toward the mess of furs and blankets strewn in the center of the room. I follow after him as he leads the way through the mess of sleeping bodies. I step where he steps, watching the floor intently so I don't step on the hound's paws nor tail, nor on any fingers and toes.

Eric stops before an empty pile of furs closest to the hearth and gestures to them. "Here's yer spot."

I stop before the spot and glance at the three boys, the vicious hound, and Jerome. Jerome and the hound sleep closest to the front door, while the boys sleep in the center of the room. Some guilt comes over my heart as I look down at my spot. It's the warmest spot.

I look up at Eric. "Shouldn't this spot go to the youngest boy here?"

He smiles at me and shakes his head. "No one here like's bein' as close to the fire as ye do."

My brows furrow. "I do like being close to the fire…" I shake my head. "How did you know?"

He smirks. "Ye've slept close to the fire every night in the dark forest, and nobody else wants this spot." He gestures to the spot designated for me.

My brows relax. He seems to know me. A little bit. "Oh, well, in that case…" I step over the furs and sit down on them, my rump taking a quick liking to the furs. I kick off my boots and place them against the hearth so that no one trips on them in the night.

Eric chuckles above me. "In that case, night, lass."

I look back at Eric as he turns and starts for an empty spot near Jerome and the hound. My heart swells and softens for him, beating harder. "I wish you a restful sleep, Eric."

He lays down on his own pile of furs, his back to me. "Night, lass," he grumbles, though there is good amusement in his grumbling. I smile, the heat of the fire reaching me. The heat warms me up and makes me acutely aware of how heavy my body is. I'm barely able to keep my eyes open.

"Thank you, Eric," I murmur softly, though I doubt he hears me, but I'm not about to wake him to make sure he hears it. If anything, he needs this time to rest more than I do. I have never seen him sleep. Even now with his back to me, it's too difficult to tell if he is sleeping or not. I sigh to myself and drop upon my pile of furs, darkness taking me as soon as my head lands touches the furs.

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

A rattling cry shatters the darkness.

I stir from such wonderful, restful sleep. God, I do not want to get up now! I'm still incredibly tired, my body feeling like somebody filled me up with a bunch of rocks. I squeeze my eyes tighter and try to return to the restful sleep—another rattling cry startles me awake. I bolt upright and look back to where the cry is coming from. The door to the bedroom is cracked open.

"Hell!" Jerome curses, his voice hoarse. I look at Jerome. Annabelle is sleeping soundly beside him and Mary is sleeping soundly beside her. The babe cries again.

"HELL BELOW!" Jerome sits up.

Eric rolls over onto his back to look at Jerome. "She's a newborn," Eric says gruffly. "What do ye expect?"

Jerome looks down at Eric. "I expect to be allowed to sleep! Who's going to go in there and help that woman shut her babe up? My wife and daughter need their sleep!—"

"I'll go," I say, getting to my heavy, aching feet. Jerome and Eric look at me, their eyes half closed with exhaustion.

"Ye need yer sleep, too," Eric says as I start making my way towards the room, carefully navigating my way over people and furs.

"I'll be fine. Both of you, go back to sleep, please." I step over the last fur and slip into the room, shutting the door behind me.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry," Eliza apologizes profusely, her voice raspy.

"Please don't apologize!" I tread to the bedside, my eyes falling on the crying babe squirming in her mother's arms. "Is she alright?" I ask, looking up at Eliza.

Eliza sighs tiredly and looks down at her newborn. "She's fine…I think she's hungry? I'm…" Eliza lifts her heavy, uncertain eyes to me. "It's difficult to tell. I'm new to all this."

"Of course," I sit down on the edge of the bed as softly as I can, "and I have never born a babe nor cared for one. I'm not sure how I can help you." I scoff at myself. "So why did I come in here?"

Eliza and I burst into soft laughter amidst her babe's wailing. "Because you have a good heart," Eliza says. Her words bring my laughter to a quick end and steal my smile.

"A good heart? That's all opinion, isn't it?" I ask.

Eliza's smile drops to a deep frown. "Rather truth. Could you hold my babe for me?" My heart skips a beat. "It's hard to pull my dress down and hold her at the same time."

"Hold her?" I squeak, my stomach knotting with terrible, nauseating nerves.

Eliza gives me a gentle smile. "You'll be fine. Just hold her for a moment so that I can pull my dress down. I don't feel comfortable with setting her down on the bed."

I bite the inside of my lip and tentatively hold my arms out to her, unsure where to hold the babe. "Why do you not feel comfortable with laying your daughter on the bed?"

Eliza shakes her head, frowning. "I…I just do. Here." She lifts her babe up, offering me her wailing, squirming bundle. She smiles encouragingly. "Don't be afraid. Just make sure you support her head. Her neck is so fragile."

Her warning nearly makes me put my arms down. "I—" I stop myself. I wish she would just set her babe down on the bed, but I came in here to help her. I reach for her babe, my hands shaking terribly.

"It's alright," Eliza says. A futile attempt to comfort me. I place my hand beneath the babe's head first, my fingers sliding through her short black hair. All my worry nearly leaves me at the feel of the babe's hair, so soft as if her hair was made from silk.

"There you go. You're halfway there!" Eliza says, her words banishing all my trembling. I wrap my arms securely about her wailing babe and lift the babe out of her arms, the babe surprisingly light! I bring the babe to my chest, making sure to support her head in the bend of my arm.

"Look at you! You're a natural mother!" Eliza says with a huge grin.

I chuckle and shake my head. "Hardly!"

Eliza laughs and starts pulling her dress down her arms. I look down at the newborn to give her mother some privacy. Her little arms and legs squirm beneath the loosening linens she's swaddled in. I rest my arm holding the babe upon my lap and tighten the linen about her with my free hand. Perhaps the tighter linen will help her feel more secure?

"It's alright, little one," I say. God, something about holding this babe, feeling her featherlight movements in my lap and arm…it captivates my heart and draws me in, granting me fulfillment and peace. My brows furrow. I don't understand these feelings. This babe is not mine. I did not labor to bring her forth, so why do I feel such fulfillment and peace with her moving about in my lap even though she is squalling loudly?

"I'll take her now," Eliza says. I glance at Eliza, her bare arms held out to me. I look down at her daughter and slip my hand beneath her head, again finding such enjoyment in the silky feel of her hair. I slide my other hand beneath the babe's bottom and lift her up. Eliza and I work together, passing the babe's head and rump from my hands to hers with great care. I lower my hands to my lap and look at the door, still hearing the squalling babe.

"Shh, shh, now," Eliza says. The squalling babe pipes down to soft, muffled breathing. Despite what I know to be proper respect, my curiosity gets the better of me. I look back at Eliza. Her daughter's mouth is latched to her swollen breast, the babe's mouth and cheeks moving with her suckling. God, it's amazing how a woman can feed a babe with milk that her body makes. I look at Eliza's face, that same loving smile spreading her mouth. Perhaps this will shut up Jerome for now. I shake my head and turn my thoughts from Jerome to Eliza and her babe, both of them still just as connected as they were when they were connected with that white cord.

"Have you named her yet?" I ask Eliza.

Eliza lifts her tired, smiling eyes to me. "Not yet, but I've been thinking about it." She cocks her head to the side, an endearing look shaping her eyes. I'm not sure what it is about her look, but it knots up my stomach, that little voice inside warning me that something bad is about to happen.

"You and Eric have been there for me and my babe since…" Her smile wanes, her sadness filling up the space between us. "If I had born the boy that Geoffrey wanted, as all men do," Eliza and I laugh softly, but it ebbs quickly, "I know Geoffrey would want me to call our son Eric."

My eyes pop open. "Oh my!" I know where she is going with this!

Eliza laughs once. "But I bore a daughter, and I'd be honored—"

"Eliza, no, I…" I shake my head at her, my half carved heart breaking at seeing the smile dropping from her face. "Your babe…" I sigh. My guilt crashes down on me. How do I word this without revealing to her who I truly am? If I reveal to her who I am, she'll get all excited just like Sara and Greta did and cling to this false hope that I can somehow take back the kingdom from Ravenna's grasp and set all of Tabor free. I don't believe in falsities, even if they are comforting in the face of utter hell, and I'd hate to cause Eliza to believe in a future of freedom that will never come to pass.

"Eliza, you should not name your babe after me. My name is worthless." I wince, my heart stinging. How I hate saying this. Greta's name is not worthless, but rather beautiful and worth more than the world.

Eliza shakes her head. "Dear, your name is not worthless! You are a good, kind, and honest woman. I'd be highly honored to name my daughter after you in the hopes that'll she grow up to have the same integrity as you!"

I flinch. Honest? Integrity? If only she knew. I am far from honest, and by my dishonesty I lack integrity. "Just…believe me, name your daughter after Mary or after Annabelle. They're far better than me."

Eliza frowns at me. "They have good hearts, of course, but your persistence to get Sara's ring back—" Eliza smiles sweetly at me, her smile painful to witness—"No wonder Sara asked such a favor of you. No wonder she entrusted you with her last possession. You're better than you believe yourself to be—"

"You don't understand!" I say, fighting to keep my voice low. My patience is running thin.

Eliza's brows furrow, completely baffled. "What don't I understand? If you're thinking of your flaws, we all have flaws! I have flaws! Geoffrey had flaws! I know my daughter is going to have her flaws and her downfalls, but that's what makes us human!"

I groan. I didn't take Eliza as a philosopher of the human conscience, or whatever she's going on about! "Eliza, please, just…if you wish to name your daughter after someone, anyone who is good, kind, and honest and has enough integrity to put everyone under this roof to shame, then name her after Sara! Please—" I suck in a deep breath and slowly release it through my nose, cooling my temper. "Name her after Sara. Sara was everything you want your daughter to be. I knew her for less than a day, but she saved me. She gave me hope." I reach into the collar of my dress and pull out Sara's ring for Eliza to see. I let it dangle for a brief moment before clutching it tightly in my fist. "She smuggled in this tangible piece of hope and asked me to deliver it to her husband," I say, part of me lamenting and loathing the day that I have to give up this tangible piece of hope to her husband. The selfish part of me wishes I could keep this close to my heart till I die and even after I die when I am in hell, but I will fulfill the favor Sara asked of me. It's the least I can do for all she has given me.

"She became my friend…and my sister despite the lack of time she had and despite the bars separating us." I clutch her ring tightly to my heart. "Eliza, let me tell you, Sara did not expend her last moment for herself, but for her husband…and for me. She broke her bones just so she could reach across the hall to put her ring in my hand." Eliza's eyes widen with horror, but I continue, "I know that I will expend my last moment on this earth for myself. I am selfish and a liar, but I'm being honest with you now. Name your daughter after Sara. Sara is someone your daughter should strive to be like."

The horror slowly leaves Eliza's face, showing her fatigue and her disappointment. Her disappointment in me. "If that's what you truly believe…" she says slowly, her tone full of uncertainty "…then I will consider naming her after your friend."

I release my breath, my nerves eased and my temper calmed. I breathe in again. "Believe me, Eliza, you won't regret it. If I ever have a daughter, I will name her after Sara."

Eliza only nods, her face still heavy with both exhaustion and disappointment in me. I frown at her and glance down at her babe. The babe, or Sara, has fallen asleep, her mouth only partly attached to her mother's breast.

I look up at Eliza as I stand up from the bedside. "I'll leave you now. Try to get some sleep." I force a smile for Eliza and quickly turn my back to her, my feet already carrying me to the door.

"Good night…Greta," Eliza says. It would be polite to look back at her and smile again, but I keep my gaze focused on the door. I reach the door and go to open it—my stomach flips. The door is cracked open! I thought I closed it! Perhaps I didn't close it all the way when I came in. God, I just pray nobody heard Eliza and me speaking. I did raise my voice at one point. But then if anybody did hear us, I'm sure Jerome would have been cursing from the main room. So, nobody heard us. I heave a breath of relief while I pull open the door and step out into the main room, pulling the door shut behind me until I hear the click.

"Ye knew Sara?" he asks from behind me. I halt instantly, growing stark still.

Thump…thump…thump. Eric comes into my sight and stops before me. I tilt my chin all the way back to see his face, my skin bunching uncomfortably at the back of my neck. He looks down at me, his eyes wide open and blue. Somehow, he is baring himself to me more than if he was to stand here naked.

"Ye knew her?" he asks again, keeping his voice low enough to not wake the others.

I gulp my spit down. "You…were listening?" I can barely speak! He eavesdropped…he knew Sara!? God, not just those two things, but how much did he hear!? Did he hear me say that I'm selfish and a liar!? Did he hear my strong opposition towards Eliza naming her child after me? If he did, then surely that would raise his suspicions of me.

His face tightens. "I came to check on ye lasses, but then I heard ye say her name…that ring…" He reaches with his bear-sized hand for her ring! I take a big step back, bumping my back into the door. He stops moving, his bear-sized hand still hovering in the air. He looks down at me and I look up at him, both of us holding our breaths. The air between us grows so still that it's as if we were frozen in blocks of ice. I…God, I can't think straight! Eric knew Sara? He reached for her ring as if he truly did know her! Wouldn't…surely he would have recognized it all those nights we spent in that dark forest. If not, then when he took Sara's ring from me to give it to Geoffrey and Eliza as payment, surely he would have recognized it then! Surely!

He raises his brows and brings his fingertips to his cheekbone. "Did she have a scar on her face that went from here," he trails his fingertips down to his chin, softly rustling the bristles of his beard, "to here?"

My eyes grow impossibly wide. God above.

He drops his hand to his side. "Ye knew her," he says, not questioning it this time. We…we both knew her. "Ye knew her," he says again, as if trying to convince himself, too. I can hardly believe it. He knew Sara.

Despite the two feet of space between us, it feels as if he is surrounding me on all sides, threatening to tear Sara's ring, this tangible piece of hope, from my already half carved heart. I clench my jaw and clutch Sara's ring in both hands, one hand over the other, providing it with as many layers of protection as possible.

"How…how did you know her?" I manage to spit out.

He sighs, his chest and shoulders dropping with his exhale. "She was my wife." Despite the sadness of his words, he spoke them with an edge. Not an edge towards Sara, but an edge towards me. "Ye told me about the favor she asked of ye before she…" He glances down at my clutched hands and looks up at me, his gaze hard and cold. "Ye said with such conviction that ye will deliver her ring to her husband when ye find him. Ye said that with such conviction that I believed ye. Now the man ye were lookin' for stands here before ye, but here ye stand with yer back to the wall as if I'm some demon, falterin' on yer promise!"

"What!?" I gasp, my face flushing with hot anger. "You don't know me! You don't know a single thing about me! I will fulfill the favor she asked of me! You!—"

"Then do it!" He holds out his demanding hand.

I open my mouth to respond, but words leave me. Of course I will fulfill the favor Sara asked of me, but…I just…I never expected it to happen tonight. Not in this way. Not with this hostility, anger, and hypocrisy on his part. This ring…God, I have thought this countless times, but having to hand over this precious silver, the only tangible piece of hope I have in this world…it's as if Eric is demanding me to give up my hope. My blood boils with anger, but the overwhelming emptiness and grief drags me under their raging waters. My eyes sting as the tears gather in them and blur my sight. My eyes drop to my hands. I slowly crack open my hands like peeling away the protective shell of a crustacean to see Sara's ring…for what may be the last time I ever lay eyes upon such a beautiful piece of jewelry. To think that Eric took Sara's ring from me before and pawned it off without recognizing the piece as his wife's ring. To think of how he degraded it, only calling it a piece of silver, and now here he stands demanding it back.

"Lass, I'm sor—"

"Just take it!" I pull the linen strip over my head, push the ring into his hand, and take off towards the back of the room, the tears already streaming down my cheeks. He knows I'm crying, but I don't want him to see me cry. I don't want anyone to wake up and see me in tears! I come across an open doorway in the wall and look down into the darkness as best as my tears allow me to. It's difficult to tell, but enough of the firelight illuminates the steep wood planks of steps leading down into an inky black abyss. My stomach churns with fear, fear of such darkness, but it also calls to me, offering me protection from all those prying, judging eyes!

I descend down the steps carefully, each step down dragging me into further darkness, the air quickly growing colder with each step I take. I go to where the last bit of light reaches the steps and drop down on them. I can't go any deeper into such darkness, such cold! This must be what hell below feels like. This emptiness, surrounded by such cold, such darkness…such loneliness. I curl up tightly to fend off the cold. I hide my face in the bend of my arm and let the tears fall, but I fight to keep my sobbing as quiet as possible. Despite being hidden from the world, they can still hear me up the stairs. The last thing I want is Jerome storming down these steps, or Eric standing at the top of the stairs telling me to shut my mouth, looming over me like the devil upon his throne.

By God...I did it. I fulfilled the favor Sara asked of me. It's…it's done. Fourteen years of hell, escaping with only my torn clothes and half an arrow lodged in my back, surviving the impossible, persuading the devil himself to not kill me—through all that, I've fulfilled the favor Sara asked of me. Despite the relief and accomplishment I should feel about this, all I feel is emptiness and loneliness! To be forced to hand over such a precious piece of hope to that damn hypocrite who took Sara's ring from me in the first place, not recognizing it to be Sara's ring, and pawned it off like it was just some piece of silver! Of course, the ring is just a piece of tarnished silver, but it has been my lifeline for the last two years of my imprisonment and a physical reminder that there is a reason to continue living. If it was not for Sara's ring hanging from my throat, I would have put that noose about my throat and stepped off my bed.

Thump, thump down these steps! I stiffen and force myself to stay as silent as death. His presence drapes itself over me like he threw himself upon me, threatening to break my weak back in two. Why has he come down here? He got what he demanded! Has he come here to mock me for his own sick amusement!?

"Lass," he speaks above me, his voice so soft I barely hear him. I would look up at him and sneer at him, curse him and tell him to leave me in my own wretchedness, but if I look up now, he'll see the tears streaming down my face. "I'm sorry," he says a little louder, though his words go over my head. "I know her ring means a lot to ye…I didnae understand how much until now."

A new welling of tears comes forth, forcing a single, loud sob out of me. He will never understand how much her ring means to me!

He sighs again! "I shouldnae have gotten angry with ye. I'm sorry."

I gasp in a desperate breath, trying to ease the burning in my throat and lungs. "You'll never—" I sob once—"understand!"

Silence comes between us. A tense, heart wrenching silence. How I wish I could trust him and believe his words. It was such great relief to trust him. It allowed me to feel the safety once again that only he has made me feel in fourteen years. But to place such trust in him…it opens me up to betrayal! By demanding Sara's ring back from me, he has betrayed the trust I placed in him. How can I ever trust him again knowing that he will demand other things from me as he did Sara's ring?

"Then I wish I did understand," he says softly. "Ye could help me to understand—"

"NO!" I yell out. I would look back at him and sneer, but I keep my face buried in my arm. I will not show him my face only so he can laugh at me!

"It's yer choice. Jus' know I'm sorry. I admire the sacrifice ye've made by givin' me her ring."

I shake my head in my arm! "Just leave me be!" I say into my arm, my voice muffled enough to not wake the others.

"Aye," he whispers. Thump, thuMP – his footsteps tremble the step beneath my rump and the edge of the other step pressing into my lower back. Why is he drawing closer to me!? I told him to leave! I lift my face out of my arm and turn back to face him—I freeze up, unable to move while he stoops towards me and slips the loop of linen holding Sara's ring over my head, returning her ring to its place about my throat! He straightens up to his towering stature, his eyes lingering on Sara's ring for a brief moment before darting up to me. His blue eyes ensnare my dark ones, something invisible tying us together. My heart swells and beats hard against my sternum, longing to be closer to him. I grab at Sara's ring like clinging to a rock amidst raging rapids, struggling to believe that he…God, he gave Sara's ring back to me! Why did he do that!?

"Night lass." He tears his heavy eyes from mine and turns, treading silently back up the stairs. My heart beats harder and harder, swelling so much that it can hardly beat anymore. God, I can't stand to watch him take another step from me!

"Eric!" I call after him, my voice hoarse with tears. He stops halfway up the steps and looks down at me, turning himself to see me better. I open my mouth…silence. There he stands, the firelight framing him from the top of the stairs, his rugged face half hidden in the darkness. There's so much I could tell him, but that would open me up too much.

He breathes out, his shoulders dropping with disappointment. "Ye dinnae have to forgive me—"

"No, I…" I shake my head. "Sara…" A new wave of tears comes rolling down my cheeks. "I just…she saved me." Completely…in the most nightmarish way. God forbid Eric ever discovers what I had to do with Sara's frozen flesh—no, don't think of it, Snow! "She placed such trust in me. I didn't believe her! I didn't believe that I'd find you!" One sob escapes me…then two, then three. I tear my eyes from him and hide my face in my arms again in an effort to muffle myself, utter horror and disgust churning my stomach. To face her husband, to look him in his eyes with the knowledge that I—no, don't think of it!

Thump, thump, thump, thuMP right beside me. The step creaks, the step so narrow that his flank slides down my side as he sits beside me on the step. His warmth touches me through my clothes like a shield against this bitter cold. How I want to recoil from him and wrap my arms about him at the same time, but I stay curled up beside him, sobbing into the darkness and loneliness of my arms.

"Ye miss Sara," he says. God, those words—they wrap themselves about my half carved heart like a pair of hands and try to strangle me. I sob harder. How…how true. I never really thought of it until now. The tears I shed were never over Sara's ring, but rather over her. She gave me hope. She made me smile. She made me feel happiness. She was my dearest friend, someone who I consider my sister. Even though I only knew her for less than a day, she has left one of the biggest holes in my heart.

"I miss her too. She enters my mind everyday," Eric says. "Yer no' alone in this. I'm here with ye."

I can't take this anymore! I wrap my arms about his waist and bury my face into the side of his chest, soaking his thick wool shirt with my tears. His arms go about me and pull me deeper into his side, surrounding me with such wonderful warmth and security. I grab fistfuls of his rough shirt, doing my best to not dig my fingernails into his hip. One of his bear-sized hands covers the whole back of my head while he rubs my back with his other hand, his rough hand rubbing against my leather coat. A small warmth stirs in my loins, but that is just one small spot amid all his warmth, security, and strength surrounding me. God, I never would have imagined him and I together like this when I first faced him in that dark forest, yet here we are.

I manage to stop squeezing my eyes shut and focus only on the feel and sound of his steady breathing against me, lifting my head just enough with each inhale and letting my head draw closer to his ribs with each exhale.

"Are you both alright down there!?" I startle against Eric and look up the stairs. Jerome stands at the top of the steps holding a lit rush in his hand. His eyes are dark and heavy with exhaustion, but also full of worry—a sight I thought I'd never see on Jerome's face.

Eric loosens his arms about me and looks back at Jerome, but he doesn't let me go. "We're fine."

Jerome nods, still looking uncertain. "Are the woman and her newborn alright?"

My eyes widen with pleasant surprise, my tears starting to dry. I didn't think he cared for Eliza and her newborn. "They're well," I say, my voice raspy.

Jerome's eyes shift to me. "Alright. Well, if there's anything you need…let me know." Jerome shifts his gaze between Eric and me before he turns and disappears around the bend. Silence falls again. I look back at Eric, my eyes crossing his blue ones and becoming ensnared. His eyes remain with mine for a brief moment and dart all over my face, lingering on my chin. An odd place to linger. His eyes lift to my cheeks and then return to mine.

"Ye should get some sleep," he whispers. I swallow and reluctantly take my arms from him. I scrub my tears away with my cool leather sleeves, soothing my dried out face.

"Com'on." Eric takes his arms from me and rises up to his bear-sized stature, leaving me feeling so small, so pathetic beneath him, but he extends his hand to me. I glance down at his hand. I doubt he would take my hand if he knew…don't think of it! I take hold of his hand, reveling in the warmth and roughness of it. He tightens his fingers about me, swallowing up my hand in his, and he helps me to my feet. I don't pull my hand from his nor does he release me. We both turn and climb back up into the warmth, leaving behind the darkness and cold of whatever was at the bottom of those steps. As far as I'm concerned, hell was truly down there waiting for me.

I let him lead me back into the main room to my spot of messy furs and bunched up blanket. God, I made a mess of my bedding.

"Night lass." He gives my hand a gentle squeeze and pulls his hand from mine, grazing his calloused fingertips over mine. My hand tingles from the cold air surrounding it. How I miss his warmth already. Eric turns from me and starts back toward his spot on the floor.

"Eric!" I call after him, trying not to wake anyone else. He stops and turns back halfway, his bright eyes crossing mine. "I…" God, there's so much I want to tell him, but exhaustion fills my whole body with its heaviness. I see exhaustion weighing Eric down, both in his half closed eyes and in the way he holds his shoulders, like some invisible sack was tossed upon them. I release my half held breath and draw in another one. "I didn't expect any of this to happen tonight. I…I didn't expect you to give Sara's ring back to me." The heaviest guilt I have ever felt comes over me. I don't deserve her ring. I have taken far too much from her. "You shouldn't have given Sara's ring back to me." My guilt grows and grows, threatening to consume me whole. "She asked me to deliver it to you. That was her final wish."

His heavy eyes widen. "Lass—"

"Please Eric, let me do this.". I take a few cautious steps over the sleeping people to draw nearer to him. He sighs while I stop before him and slowly pull the frayed linen loop over my head, Sara's precious ring dangling in the air. He nor I speak as I place Sara's ring in my palm and hold out my hand for him, her ring resting in my palm. I can be selfish no longer. I have already taken far too much from Sara.

Eric shakes his head. "Her ring means so much to ye. I cannae take that from ye!"

"But you said it!" I whisper. "It's just a piece of silver—"

"I was wrong," he says with much regret, frowning.

"No, you are right! It's just a piece of silver! That's all it is! Giving her ring to you…" I shake my head at him. "It will not steal the hope she has given me. It will not make me forget the moment she made me smile, made me laugh, and made me feel happiness for the first time in twelve years. Eric, please." I take a bold step towards him and stand on my toes to lift the linen loop over his head, letting Sara's ring come to rest rightfully upon his chest. "Do not keep me from fulfilling the favor Sara asked of me, nor do not deprive her of her final wish."

Despite my words and despite the change of my half carved heart, my eyes drop to the tarnished silver. I almost reach for it out of habit, but I gather enough strength to pull my hands down to my sides. I tear my eyes from the beautiful tarnished silver and look up at him. "Would you do this for me? And if not for me, then for Sara?"

His frown deepens, but he nods slowly. "Aye."

I heave a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Eric. Thank you." My sight of him blurs and my eyes prickle with tears. They almost fall, but I manage to hold them back by keeping my chin tilted back.

Eric tucks Sara's ring under the collar of his shirt, the laces of his collar pulling apart some, showing me a strip of his tan, muscled chest. That small fire that stirred in my loins when we were sitting on the stairs comes back, but it returns stronger this time, burning so much that it almost hurts. I clench my thighs together, suddenly feeling disgusting standing before him.

"Go to sleep," he orders. He grabs my shoulder and turns me around, my feet almost unwilling to move, but he manages to turn my back to him. He gives me a gentle push towards my spot. My feet carry me back to my bunched up pile of furs and wool blanket. I crouch before my bedding and straighten it out, more than ready to let this night pass without anymore happening. I lie down upon the furs, pull the blanket up to my chin, and force my eyes closed, praying silently to Him above that these sinful, lustful feelings for Eric soon vanish.