Hal's aim was not as good in the cold. It was the one, detail she had not foreseen, but wasn't all that surprised when she thought about it. Her hands were gloved, because she had learned the hard way that she cannot expose her skin for a prolonged period of time after the last failed hunt — the process of rewarming her hands had been painful, like she was submersing her hands in needles, the skin startling pale. But even when she hadn't worn her gloves, her hands had been shaking so terribly from the cold that she could hardly fire straight. And it wasn't long before they had gone numb altogether.

So now here she was, standing in the middle of another blizzard — as Baldor had called it — watching their prey run off after being startled by her wayward arrow. She was not dismayed — even back home, no catch was ever guaranteed. But she could not deny how frustrating it was to deal with this every time she needed to go out. She had willingly volunteered to help the hunting parties that scavenged for food, but she was concerned with their waning prospects. She could not fathom how they had made it thirteen years. She was skeptical she'd last the one.

"Are you all right, Miss Halen?"

She turned as Albriech approached on her left, reaching up and lifting her hood back up. She shot him a grateful smile. "Thank you. And I'm fine. I'm just wondering if I'm doing this all wrong. There has to be an easier way. At this rate, I'm wasting arrows."

"If it's any consolation, winter anywhere is a dreadful time for any hunter. Game is scarce, and it is much more adept at surviving in such conditions than most humans."

"A minor consolation," she teased.

Baldor jogged up to her other side, his face, like his brother's, flushed from the cold. Hal knew they were nearing the end of their time. Soon enough, they would have to turn back to warm up. They could not, and should not, stay out here much longer.

When he reached them, he was panting a bit as he said, "The herd is still close if we want to try again. However, I know that the Sani have enough food for now. We could always head back and try another day."

It was, perhaps, the only upside to this dreadful weather: the food kept longer in the cold, and the Sani had a frozen storage room where they could keep their extra pounds of meat and fat for use later. But despite their small numbers, there were still enough that they moved through rations quickly despite their best efforts. Hal didn't believe her people should have to ration their food. She thought of how full the Tenari would be at all hours, satisfied and never worrying about their next meal.

She shook her head, hiking her quiver higher up on her back, her face set. "Let's keep moving. I'd like to avoid returning empty handed if possible."

The brothers nodded with equal determination, and she was once again grateful for them. They carried on, following Baldor as he led them towards the small gathering of very large deer that they had been tracking.

By the time they returned to the cave, Hal was somewhat content with their haul of two deer, one large enough that she and Baldor had to carefully pull it together, while Albriech carried the other across his back. They were fortunate enough to avoid any opportunistic predators on their return, and all let out small sighs of relief as they entered the warmth of the caves, the wind disappearing immediately — which was the brunt of their misery whenever they stepped outside. Personally, Hal couldn't wait to bathe and rid herself of the stink of blood. Normally, it didn't bother her so much but lately the hunts have been nauseating to deal with.

"We were beginning to think we'd have to send a search party out for you three," Olwenyo commented, walking up to Hal his eyes exposing his worry despite his attempt at being cavalier. In a more serious tone, he added, "I know you insist, but the blizzard out there is likely to get worse over the next few days. I encourage you all to remain indoors where it's safe until it passes. I promise, we have more than enough food for the time being."

"Are you sure?" Hal asked. Two men approached and gestured for Baldor and Albriech to follow so that they could take the catch and begin breaking it down into parts. She nodded to them to show she would meet up with them later, then followed Olwenyo as he turned and walked in the opposite direction. "It hasn't escaped my notice that people are often eating only once a day, and portions are limited."

Olwenyo didn't bother denying it, his mouth pressed into a thin line. "I know how things look. But we have managed for thirteen years now."

"And what of the next thirteen, uncle? What will you do then? This place is clearly not going to be enough in another decade or so."

"You ask questions no one yet knows the answer to."

"Because someone needs to start figuring them out. I do not want the Sani people to die here. Please, let me help."

He let out a bark of laughter, his hands behind his back as he paused to turn and face her. "Hal, what more could you possibly wish to do? You've been here just over a month and you have watched the children, taken over their learning and education, hunted game, helped with the chores, helped the ill…you are doing the work of ten people on your own. You'll make yourself sick at this rate. Do not overdo it."

She wondered vaguely if Albriech or Baldor had said something to him. Yes, she had been busy, but not enough to feel ill. At least not like she normally would. Then again, she never was the best judge of managing her stress. "But —"

He clapped his hand on her shoulder and smiled. "You are just like your parents. Never took 'no' for an answer, those two." Hal felt her throat tighten, unable to describe the feeling of hearing such a thing. A small reminder of the connection to her past that she had gained. "Please, remember to take care of yourself too. We do not want anything to happen to you because you are too focused on us. We want you to be happy here. For however long you're here." His expression brightened and he added, "Which reminds me: since you've been using your arrows to help us, a few of our men brought back some of that blackened earth. We've used it over the years for weapons and its pretty formidable if I do say so myself. We left some in your room, and we wrapped it so the smell wouldn't permeate. Hope you can use it to your advantage."

He waved before she could utter a 'thank you,' leaving her standing there in the hall as he hummed quietly to himself as he walked away. Hal took a slow breath, trying not to let herself get worked up. Like he had said, only a month had passed since she had decided to stay. Logically, she knew it would be unlikely to have convinced anyone in that time to make a change to their current predicament. But the overall lack of interest was just as frustrating. Were they really okay living like this? Or had they simply convinced themselves this harsh reality was still better than an uncertain future?

When she finally reached her room, she halted in surprise as her aunt appeared leaving it, quietly closing the door behind her. When Zola looked up and saw Hal, she flinched with the barest hint of surprise, her hand clutching her chest. "Good heavens, child, you're as quiet as your sister."

Hal resented the comparison but knew there was no point in saying anything on the matter.

"Well don't look at me like that," Zola continued, reading the look on Hal's face. "I wasn't doing anything unsavory. I was…I did your laundry for you. And tidied up your room."

Hal's mouth parted and her aunt looked away. Hal had an inkling the woman would almost prefer to have been caught snooping. With a shy smile, Hal muttered, "Thank you. That was kind of you."

Zola looked up at the ceiling as she spoke. "I know you and I do not see eye to eye on many things at the moment. But you are still family. My family. And you haven't been taking care of yourself."

Hal was getting sloppy if everyone was catching on so quickly. "I've been busy."

Something in the woman's face darkened with grief, and her sigh felt heavy, even to Hal. "Your mother used to say that all the time. She was always busy. Her and your father, but Zara especially. It was like it was her duty to take care of everything and everyone. Never hesitated to put others before herself. Especially you and Thea."

Against her will, her memory flashed back to her mother. She struggled to catch her breath, fighting the image of her mother's face being pushed into the ground when she felt a surge of nausea that she had previously managed to suppress for most of the day. She rushed forward, pressing her lips together in panic as she fled past her aunt and into her room, ignoring the woman's shout of surprise.

Sick already seeping between her lips, Hal flung herself at the bin in her room and threw up, disgusted by the rancid smell and taste. Like something had died in her mouth. Hal heaved again, feeling like she was putting her entire torso into it as her throat burned with the effort.

She felt Zola's hands on her back, holding the loose strands of hair away from her face. When Hal was done, she sat with her back against her cot, her stomach still feeling rather uneasy.

"I'm sorry," Zola stated quietly. "I should not have said what I did. It was careless. You more than anyone would know how selfless your mama was. I just…" She shook her head, tears in her eyes that she blinked away. "I just see so much of you in her. And I miss her all over again. Even after all this time. But more than that, it frightens me. I do not want to see you fall to the same fate."

Hal turned her head, sniffling. "I miss her too. And papa. Everyday. Especially as of late." She reached up, placing her clean hand over her heart — which still raced — and clutching the material of her coat. "Even though I know they're with me, there are so many moments I wish they could've been here to witness. So many more moments to come. Questions I wished I'd asked. Advice I'll never receive. Just when I think I have my bearings, it'll hit me in the most unexpected of moments. In the most unexpected of ways." She chuckled, but there was no heart or humor in the laugh. "Time has aged so many things. But never the emotions I feel when I think of them. When I think of what we lost that day.

"I can't promise that my fate will not be tied to hers in some way. If I am to leave this earth in the service and protection of someone I love, then I could not ask for anything more. But I know how much it worries those same people, so I will try to be mindful of not over-stressing myself."

Then, to her surprise, her aunt leaned over and covered the top of Hal's hand in hers, her expression pained. She didn't say anything, but she didn't need to. For the first time, Hal could talk to someone who knew her pain without her having to say anything. All these lonely years, finally over.

Hal bowed, touching the back of Zola's hand to her forehead in appreciation and respect. Normally she would kiss it, but not after being sick. As if also realizing this, Zola patted the top of her head affectionately. "Why don't you change into something more breathable and get into bed. I'll fetch some herbs and water to help settle your stomach."

"Aye, thank you."

Zola removed the sullied bin as she left, quietly closing the door behind her as she left. Hal changed into a loose gown, moving the folded laundry her aunt had delivered from the top of her cot to the top of the dresser to be sorted later. She was rather relieved to bury herself under her sheets, her stomach still in knots, her head spinning slightly as it hit the pillow.

Perhaps she had been overdoing it the past few weeks. And she certainly did not want to get sick, especially with so few medicines at their disposal. She would have to be mindful of how much she was taking on moving forward. Besides, she had promised Murtagh as much before he had left. And she'd hate to break a promise.

"Are you nervous, iet dunei?" he had asked, pushing her hair back from her face with an all-knowing smirk that barely hid his own nerves.

"Why? Are you nervous?"

"You know you can't answer a question with a question."

"I think we are far past such rules, don't you agree?" He just stared at her, almost insulted she had even said such a thing. Hal glanced around them, everyone actively pretending to engage in other conversation as she and Murtagh spoke privately. Albriech and Baldor had already agreed to stay behind with Hal; they were helping the elves look busy, and not like they were eavesdropping, as they double-checked what few supplies the Sani had been able to provide for the long trip back.

After a moment of silence, Hal said, "You know, when I imagined myself as a wife, I always told myself that I would be the strong and quiet type. I would never need to depend on my husband for anything. I could make do on my own. That way, if we were ever apart, I didn't have to worry about missing him while he was away." She snorted, trying to act like she didn't feel ill at the thought of their impending separation. "Past Hal would think me a fool now," she muttered.

"If it's any consolation, past Murtagh would feel the same about me as well." Hal could not help but laugh. Murtagh grinned, reaching up to slide his fingers along her neck. She felt a chill, looking up at him and recalling his touch from last night, still very fresh in her mind. And she would have to hold on to that for a year.

"Maybe this is a mistake," she whispered, ashamed at the admission but not afraid to be honest with him. "You could always stay. Perhaps we are rushing —"

His lips captured hers, his hand tilting her head back just a bit. His touch was chaste and appropriate since they weren't alone, but it made her chest tighten all the same. When he pulled back, he did so gently, pecking at her lips, kissing her nose, before placing his forehead against hers. "If I thought you were making the wrong choice, I would say as much. But you and I both know that I would never lie to you."

She nodded, her lip trembling. "I know."

"Baldor and Albriech will remain here to support you. And while I know you must limit your magic here, you can always contact me if it's an emergency. I will come without a moment's hesitation."

She let loose a big huff of air, trying to keep her emotions in check. "Heavens, rider, what are you going to do? You are completely hopeless without me."

"Aye, that I am."

Hal looked up at him, her hand on his chest. "When I see you next, I promise to say 'I love you' for every day we were apart."

His smile brightened. "I'll hold you to it. But if you must promise me anything, Hal, promise me this: take care of yourself. I can only imagine how overwhelmed you're feeling. Remember to breathe and pace yourself. If everything works out the way I know it will, then you will have many more years with your people. Proper years. And that can't happen if you tirelessly work yourself like you tend to."

She bit her tongue on her instinctive, cheeky retort and instead nodded. "All right then. I promise."

"Good. Because I will also be letting Albriech and Baldor know that they are to rein you in if things get too out of hand."

She sniffed, rolling her eyes. "Fine. But I expect the same from you and Thorn."

"You have my word as a rider and as your husband."

By the time Zola returned with Hal's tea, the young woman was already sound asleep in her bed, a smile on her face and a pocket mirror in her hand.

…

"Are you sure you got enough sleep, Miss Halen? You keep yawning and you look exhausted."

"Charming as ever, Baldor, thank you."

"That's not…wait, what I meant was —"

Hal elbowed him, stifling another yawn behind her hand. "I'm kidding. I know I look a wreck. I've been feeling worse each day. Haven't been sleeping well either, so now I just feel exhausted."

"Could it be stress? Or diet?"

"Perhaps. It's mild, which is fortunate. And I've been cutting back on my responsibilities. At least I feel I have."

"The weather is probably not helping," he added. "The cold can affect people differently. Not to mention we're always inside."

"Aye. Perhaps." She gestured with her chin. "Are you almost finished?"

He nodded, turning the map around gently so that she could observe it. They had spread out their efforts on the floor of the room he and Albriech were sharing. It was coming along nicely, although it was massive compared to what they had first expected. So far, they had nearly four hundred miles of tunnels mapped out, and a great deal seemed to extend deeper into the mountain than Hal first guessed. Although they had slowly started running into dead ends, and Hal was fearful that it meant that soon they would have explored all that they could and all that had been excavated centuries prior. And it still wasn't enough for how far they had to go.

Just then, Albriech came back in with a steaming mug of tea for Hal. "Ahh, thank you," she said as he set it down beside her.

"Morro said she would come by later and check on you," he informed her. "I was told that the herbs should help with the body aches."

Hal held the cup in both hands, holding it up to her nose to smell the sweet aroma. "I sure hope so."

"Until you feel your absolute best, I must advise that you hold off on all duties for the time being. I've seen similar symptoms in harsh weather like this before, so you might be coming down with something. I'd like for you to rest until we know more or until you're better."

Normally Hal would argue and insist otherwise. But truthfully, the idea of sleep sounded fantastic and she slowly nodded her head. "Yes. I think I'll sleep once I'm done with my tea. Thank you, Albriech."

He opened his mouth to argue, only to realize that Hal was not pushing back against the suggestion like she normally would. His expression morphed to one of genuine confusion and concern. "You're not dying, are you?"

She snorted. "Don't be so dramatic. Even I need rest once in a while."

"Oh…well…good then." He nodded, eyes daring to his brother who shrugged. Hal chuckled.

Sure enough, the second Hal's head hit the pillow, she was out almost instantly. It was as if the months of restless nights, travel, anxious worry, and nightmares had culminated in her body's sudden realization that it was exhausted. She didn't even feel bad as she became more fatigued and tired during the next few days. Especially since it was welcome considering the other rather unfortunate side effect.

"At the rate you're going, we're going to run out of bins for you to chuck your food into," Zola commented dryly, standing by as Hal sat back on her hunches, her breath sour and foul.

"I promise you, it is not my intention," Hal mumbled, graciously accepting the cup of minted water her aunt passed her. Hal swigged the contents in her mouth for several moments before spitting back into the cup. A growing routine for her that was unnatural.

"You should probably see if you can stomach eating anything." Zola stared at the contents in the basket, her expression unreadable. Then she looked over at Hal. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I just heaved a day's worth of food into my bin for the twelfth time this week." She sighed, climbing warily into bed. "I swear I've never been sick like this before."

Zola made a low noise in the back of her throat, busying herself with straightening up the room and avoiding Hal's gaze.

"Do you think I could be having a bad reaction to something?"

"Oh, that's probably what some would call it."

"What?"

"Nothing. Forget I said anything. It's probably just a passing stomach bug of some kind. Best you stay in bed in case it's contagious."

"Right, of course," Hal said, crestfallen. She had not considered she'd had anything someone could spread to others. She cursed her own carelessness.

"Tell me, does anything else seem out of the ordinary?"

"Like what?"

"Well, you know your body better than anyone, don't you? Is there anything else that seems off? Anything of concern?"

Hal sat back on her pillows, slowing her breathing and taking careful stock of her muscles, limbs, joints, and all. She frowned, unsure of what was worth noting. "Nothing outside the body aches. And I'm certainly never so tired. Often people have to fight me to stay in bed and rest."

"Hmmm. It's been nearly two months since your rider left. Perhaps your body is reacting out of stress."

There was something in Zola's tone that gave Hal pause. Two months. "I suppose so…"

Zola smiled, lifting the bin of Hal's sick. "Well, I'll have Morro bring you something to eat. Try and get some sleep."

"Aye."

But something in her aunt's expression — hardened with her mouth pressed firmly together — gave Hal reason to worry. Did Zola know something Hal did not? Or was she simply annoyed with having to care for Hal during this time?

Later, when Morro appeared with a tray of food, Hal blanched at the sight. "Is that all for me?"

Morro set the tray on Hal's lap. "Apparently. And mama said to make sure you eat all of it."

"But my stomach…surely this would only make matters worse. And the rations are far larger than what is standard."

Morro shrugged, clearly unbothered. "Mama said you would protest. That's why she told me to sit here and watch you eat. I'm not to leave until you've finished everything on your plate."

"Of course she did." Hal eyed the leg of meat, the barley soup, and hot tea. For a moment she thought she was going to be sick again when the smell hit her nose. She clutched her stomach, begging it to relax as she closed her eyes, hoping that taking slow breaths through her nose would help.

"Cousin Hal?"

Her stomach churned again, only this time she noticed the slight cramping that accommodated it. Her first thought was that this must be her menstrual cycle approaching and that's why she'd felt so wretched. Although it had never made her ill before, lest of all for two weeks, but she had certainly heard from other women that it could happen.

"Cousin Hal, are you all right?" Morro repeated.

Only…

Hal's hand remained across her stomach, her mouth having fallen open a bit with a stark realization: her menstrual cycle. She couldn't remember her last bleeding. She recalled it up just before the journey north, but she certainly should've had another by now.

She was late.

She was unable to keep down her food throughout the day, exhausted, aching…and the last night she had spent with Murtagh they'd…

"Ahh, there it is," Zola commented, appearing suddenly in the door with a bittersweet smile on her face. "I was wondering how long it would take you."

Hal felt like the air had been sucked out of her lungs, Morro staring at her with a curious expression. "Aunt Zola…"

The woman shook her head. "Just try and put something on your stomach while you're awake, love. You are eating for two now, after all."

…

"Pre…pregnant," Albriech repeated, his face flooding red with shock.

Hal sat up in her bed, her throat tight and her hands clasped tightly in her lap. She felt dramatic, bedridden over what was still speculation, and an early one at that. But she had talked it over with Zola quietly a few days ago and the symptoms matched. She had a long ways to go, but Zola had been grave when she spoke.

"You have probably noticed the lack of children. Infant mortality rates are high here. Poor diets mean mothers do not have good milk for the babies. And those are the ones that just survive the birth…"

"Are you all right, Miss Halen?" Baldor asked, sitting on the edge of her bed and taking her hands up in his. "You look frightened."

Did she? Well, that was no surprise seeing as how she was terrified. "I'm…still in shock, I think."

"What should we do?" Albriech asked. "Do you want us to try and contact Murtagh?"

"No, no, not yet. It's…honestly, it's still too early. And based on what my aunt told me, it would not be in my best interest to give birth here. If I want the child's best chance at survival, I would need to leave. They do not have the means to care for me and the baby."

The brothers grimaced but said nothing. Hal knew they were thinking of the dull prospects. She felt another cramp in her stomach and wrapped her arm around it, willing it to relax. She didn't know if this was the supposed pregnancy or her nerves.

"Can I get you anything?" Baldor asked.

"I'm fine, thank you. Just…this certainly complicates matters. There are many things I will have to consider that I hadn't been counting on."

"Such as?"

"If I leave, even to give birth, I will not be welcomed back. My aunt already made it clear that I would not be allowed to walk in and out of the Sani's lives. A harsh but fair condition. But if I stay, I risk my health and the life of the unborn child. And regardless, neither option factors getting a hold of Murtagh."

"We could do it if we had to," Albriech insisted. "Baldor could stay with you and I could —"

"Absolutely not. I will not risk either of you going out alone. It would need to be both of you, at least."

"Why is that a problem?"

Hal didn't want to speak her fears into existence. Didn't want to give credit to her doubts of the Sani people. But Baldor and Albriech were still outsiders. And they weren't a dragon rider or elf. Hal feared Thea would convince the Sani to take them out while they traveled back, rid them of outsiders altogether. No one would know until it was too late. No. Hal needed to keep the brothers where she could see them. At least here, nothing the Sani did would look like an accident.

"I just feel better with you both here," she said at last, her smile strained. "I will figure something out when the times comes. For now, I just need to…heavens, I don't know what the bloody hell pregnant women do." She made a face, groaning as she let her head fall into her hands. "I can't believe this is happening. Of all the rotten luck."

As soon as she said it, she heard the silence like thunder and snapped her head up, horrified that she had said such an ungrateful thing out loud. "No, I didn't mean that as it sounded. It's just the timing, is all. I'm stressed and I wasn't expecting this on top of everything else —"

"It's all right, Miss Halen," Baldor said gently, patting her hand with soft smile. "We know what you meant."

"You won't find any judgement from us," Albriech added. "Whatever you need, we're here to help you. That's it."

Hal wasn't sure why their statements brought tears to her eyes. Under different circumstances, she would've thought learning she was with Murtagh's child in the presence of her believed-dead villagers would've been something out of a dream. Instead, it felt more like a nightmare come to life. She saw her aunt's embittered expression and wanted to weep in frustration. She wasn't even remotely happy for Hal. She was probably disgusted. And she craved a woman's sympathetic presence right about now. Or even Murtagh's.

"Good heavens," Hal breathed, feeling light-headed with realization. "How on earth am I supposed to tell Murtagh?" She looked over at the brothers, feeling her heart rate rise. "I never anticipated being so far apart whenever we did conceive. I…I…I can't keep this from him, even unintentionally. It would devastate him. What do I do?"

"First, you breathe," Albriech insisted, putting a comforting hand on her head.

"Aye," Baldor agreed. "And like you said, we will figure something out when the time comes. And we still have time, even if it doesn't feel like it yet. Albriech and I will put our heads together. For now, you rest. Maybe try to picture Murtagh's face when you tell him, eh?"

Hal cheeks burned, but his words lifted a small smile of hope to her face. His reaction, huh? Now that was certainly something she was looking forward to seeing.