The ball of fire that illuminates the sky has receded beneath the horizon, and the world has fallen into darkness again. The silver slivers of light tiptoeing onto her floor from the window do not allow sleep to envelope her. As she lies nestled beneath her bedclothes a sense of calm, and comfort do not find her. Restless kicking to her ribs reminds her she is not alone. She shifts from side to side unable to locate a reasonably comfortable position for sleep. In defeat she presses her hand to her ever expanding abdomen. The restless being beneath her hand slows as she disrupts the silence.
"The gymnastics are unnecessary. Sleep has been a fickle enough bedfellow without the assistance of your freely moving appendages," Hecate offers in response.
For a moment she considers her restless, wearied mind and its impact on her unborn child. She purses her lips as a pang of guilt strikes her with the electricity of a lightning bolt. Several seconds pass in silence as she attempts to regulate her breathing. The rising and falling of her abdomen continues to offer a sense of unease.
"I am far from adept at expressing my feelings. I prefer to lock them away. Please do not mistake my uncertainty for lack of desire. My uncertainty is rooted in fear of the unknown. I cannot reconcile myself to the circumstances of your conception. I doubt I ever will," the tears offer her renewal as they plummet down her cheeks, "You are wanted. I have never wanted anything more."
Down the corridor another witch bathes in the illumination from the lamp at her bedside. A thick book rests on her chest. Her attention is shifted from the task at hand as her periphery screams about the pair of bassinets tucked away in the corner of her room. The weight and magnitude of the situation does not escape her. She casts the book aside, placing it on the surface of her bedside stand. Her recently moisturized hand comes to rest on her abdominal wall.
"Please consider saving your participation in the Olympic games until morning, lads."
Time begins to move faster than the speed of light after the winter holiday. Ethel scrunches her face as the sun nearly blinds her as she stands outside. The sun is no match to the cool, moist January air that nips at their noses. Miss Drill blows her whistle. Her irritation only grows as the girls remain unmoved.
"Ladies I believe my instructions were quite clear. Twenty laps."
"It's so sunny," Ethel chimes in.
"Quite frankly it is too cold," Felicity chimes in.
"Ladies if I am still able to successfully complete twenty laps the lot of you have no excuses."
"Miss Drill, aren't you concerned that you are going to overdo it? What if you set yourself into premature labor?" Mildred asks a valid question.
"Feigning concern for me, and my heavily pregnant frame will not get any of you a pass."
A series of moans and groans comes from the crowd. The group takes off at a snail's pace. Dimity passes the lot of them before the first turn. She stops in her tracks, and faces the group.
"Ladies I am happy to summon Miss Hardbroom. I think you would find her quite adept at using a whistle."
The girls instantly begin to pick up their pace accordingly until Miss Drill is at the back of the pack.
Hecate's impatience with the pupils grows as they drag into her room from the athletic field.
"What has gotten into the lot of you?" She queries as they slowly ditch their belongings, and secure their places at their cauldrons.
"It's Miss Drill," Ethel is the first to throw her under the bus.
"Certainly she has to be tired of so much physical activity. She is like a balloon ready to explode, and it doesn't seem to deter her in the least," Enid adds.
"Our complaining earned us an extra ten laps," Mildred reveals.
"She is forty eight months along, how can she possibly have any energy for laps?"
Hecate offers the grin of a Cheshire cat. "I would assume it is because she has trained her mind not to grow weary when faced with a physical challenge. It is a concept that would suit all of you quite well."
"When will she be going off on leave?" Maud inquires.
"She is slated to begin leave in six weeks, sooner if she goes into labor prior to that. If that will be all, it would be prudent to begin our lesson."