by Alexia Purdy
Now, extremely heavy with her first child, her legs threatened to give up on her. Dropping down into a somewhat comfortable squat and using the table as support, Marla tried to breathe through the building pain.
All morning she had felt strange pulls and tugs on her belly, but thought it was nothing more than her growing baby trying to find a more comfortable position to lie. She was told the pain would be excruciating but hadn’t quite believed until now and ended up letting out a scream that hurt her own ears. The Birther’s words were true.
Durl was outside leading his plow horse team back to the barn when he heard his wife’s scream coupled with a sharp lance of pain that stabbed him through the chest. He dropped the reins to the ground without thought and ran for his house. “Mar, where are you?” He yelled as he neared the door.
Unable to respond, Marla could do nothing save grit her teeth against the contractions wracking her body. Her fingers, now threatening to go numb from the grip she was inflicting on the table, managed to divert her mind somewhat from the pain, making her concentrate on easing her hold while she continued to pant. But try as she might, her mind wouldn’t let go of the fear and the fact that it was too soon. Barely two days ago her Birther visited and said her baby wouldn’t be ready to enter the world until at least the next moon. Which was more than a fortnight away. Still breathing through the panic and agony filling her mind, she managed to pry open her eyes long enough to see her husband rush to her side.
Finding her on the floor, an island surrounded by spilled food and broken pottery, made his heart stumble in his chest and caused his feet to become rooted to the floor. Never in his life had Durl ever been as frightened as he was by the sight she made. The spell he had fallen under broke almost as quickly as it had formed when she let out another agonizing scream.
“Tell me what to do?” He pleaded as he helped his wife to her feet, leading her to their bed.
“Jillund.” Marla hissed as she clutched at her tightening belly.
Of course! Durl thought as he watched his wife struggle through her suffering. “The Birther; I’ll send for her now!”
Thrusting out a hand and closing it over his wrist in a grip that belied her size, she screeched, “Don’t leave me!” Her silver-blue eyes going wide with distress.
Sweat beaded along his skin as joy and fear fought for dominance, he tried to appear calm for his wife as he smoothed the furrows forming between her now pinched eyes. “I would send Ivar, but he’s gone home for the night, so I’ll have to leave long enough to send word for her.”
Frowning at his words, Marla reluctantly nodded her head just before another wave of contractions stole across her belly. When the pain eased enough that she could speak, she hissed, “Hurry back.”
Taking a moment to place a single kiss between her tense eyes, Durl turned and ran for the door and his horse. Turning it towards his nearest neighbor, Durl spurred his horse into flight.
Typically a fifteen-minute ride, he made the journey in just over nine minutes. Winded, the moment he was close enough, he dropped to the ground at a run as he bounded to his neighbors front door.
Inessa, startled by the pounding at her door, dusted off her hands as she practically ran towards it. Upon opening it she found a frantic Durl standing there sweating and wringing his hands. Alarm gripped her chest with thick fingers.
“Durl, what is it? Please tell me it isn’t my Lino; what happened?” Durl watched as her confusion cleared and she frowned as her fingers touched the bright red scar running down the middle of her bottom lip, “But I didn’t feel anything.”
Shaking his head, he answered, “No, no, no. I’m sure he’s okay. But do you happen to know where he is? Or maybe Willan? The baby’s comin’ and I need someone to fetch the Birther.”
Relief washing down her back in one large soothing wave, Inessa nodded. “Go, go,” she pushed Durl back and towards his horse. “I’ll search one of them out and send them on their way. Then I’ll follow as soon as I can.”
Shocked by her offer Durl’s feet faltered, “You will?”
“Of course I will.” She answered with an indulgent smile. “What sort of neighbor, or woman would I be to leave you to floundering by Marla’s side?”
“Thank you,” he whispered to her, exceedingly grateful for the offer.
Smiling she shooed him away as she followed him down the front path, “Think nothing of it, now go. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Thanking her one last time, Durl turned his horse and headed in the direction of home. Toward a brand new beginning as a brand new family of three.
After being childless for more than seven years, they were beginning to lose all hope of ever having a child. Last summer that all changed.
Marla became sick. Could barely hold down water, let alone food, and had the energy level of an infant. Neither one thought anything of it because she wasn’t the only one struck ill at that time. Almost half the village had fallen to the sickness. She was, however, the only one that didn’t seem to get any better as time went on. It wasn’t until Durl noticed she had missed her moon cycle that hope sparked bright.
It was that spark that ignited into a blazing flame that consumed them both with elation. The Birther’s confirmation only fanned those flames into an inferno.
That fire, reigniting in his belly, forced Durl to kick his horse into eating up the ground below. Before he knew it, he was flying home.
Hearing his wife’s screams from outside caused his chest to constrict. Without bothering to tether his mount, he dropped the reins to the ground and ran inside. Once there he darted straight for his bedroom and the sounds coming from it. Rushing to her side, Durl took in the sight she made. Covered in a fine sheen of sweat, her once tidy hair was now falling down around her shoulders and sticking to her face. The Mark on her lip standing in stark relief against her pallid skin. Straining and gritting her teeth, she grunts and hisses around the pain as she writhes on the bed, her legs tangled in the linens.
“You’re back,” Marla huffed as the last surge of pain abated. Her silver-blue eyes were dull from all the effort expended.
Smoothing away the strands of hair sticking to her forehead, he nodded at her with a smile. “I am, and I’ve sent word for the Birther. And Inessa will be here soon to help you.”
“Iness…” she started before another wave crashed against her body. Panting, with eyes stretched wide, Marla reached out, fisted her husband’s collar, and with a keening wail screamed, “Coming! The baby’s coming!”
Examining his wife’s pain stricken face, he realized the truth of her words. What captured his attention, though, was the movement of Marla’s belly. While it was not the first time he had seen his child move from within her, it was, however, the first time he had witnessed such punishing movement from their babe. For as Marla struggled on the bed, her skirts had managed to move and tangle themselves up and around her chest. Leaving her belly, which now appeared to be stretched tighter than any drum he had seen, completely exposed. He felt certain she would burst if she didn’t deliver before too much longer.
It was then that he recognized how very soon and completely his life was about to change and, for the first time, began to panic. His mind racing in several different directions all at once and none of them offering comfort. Were they ready for the responsibilities of caring for a child? Were they ready to answer all the questions they would inevitably be asking themselves? What if they made mistakes or what if they made the wrong decisions? What if everything they thought they knew was wrong? Surely the child would suffer!
Marla’s shifting pulled him from his dark thoughts. He watched as she tried to reach for the headboard with stumbling movements. Unsure of what she needed, he tried to help her into a more seated position.
When she tried to bear down with a heavy groaning, he realized she was trying to push out their child. Fear and excitement warred with each other as he tried to offer her what support he could in the way of kind words.
She was in the process of taking another great lungful of air when Inessa walked in, dropping her wrap on the floor by the door. Moving to the washbasin, she soaped and then dried quickly before standing the foot of their bed.
Pushing against Marla’s shins, she examined Marla’s swollen flesh. Passing a quick glance to Durl, she said, “I sent Willan in search of Jillund, they should be here soon enough. Until then I’ll need you to help me. And right now you need to ease her onto her back; she shouldn’t be sitting up just yet.”
He opened his mouth to question Inessa when she cut him off with a hard flash of her eyes.
“Please, just do as I say.”
Durl was about to ask, again, why his wife couldn’t sit when Inessa shoved her hand into Marla’s core. Shocked, his voice and jaw stopped working all at once. He couldn’t believe what it was he was seeing, yet there it was. When his mind recovered, he shouted, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Shaking her head as she withdrew her hand, Inessa ignored his question as she turned back to the wash basin. “I’ll need this water replaced and more on standby.”
Ignoring her request, he demanded, “Tell me what you were doing to my wife!”
“I was checking her progress.”
“Progress?” Durl shook his head as his anger increased. “Speak plain, woman. I’m in no mood for your double talk!”
“Birthing a child is hard work, Durl.” Inessa huffed as she dried her hands before placing them on her hips. “As you can clearly see. Her body has to stretch in order for the child to be born. And that stretching is a process that takes time. She can’t be allowed to push too soon without suffering both her life and that of your babe. Now, I need you to do as I asked and replace that water. Also, I’ll need a cloth and another small bowl of water, too.”
Then, as if her memory was sparked, Inessa held up a single finger. Walking to her discarded wrap, she picked it up and uncovered a satchel. Rummaging around inside it, she then produced a fragrant sachet. “Steep this in a kettle for about five minutes, please.”
Taking the small sachet, Durl brought it to his nose. Pungent, he didn’t bother asking what it was for. Knowing he was so far outside his element, he glanced toward his wife once more before leaving to gather the items asked for.
After changing out the wash basin’s water and bringing in two more tubs –one with fresh water and an empty one for soiled water– he returned to the kitchen to steep the contents of the bag. While not wholly unpleasant, it didn’t smell good either.
He was in the process of removing the sachet from the kettle when the Birther walked in. Her hair was windblown and her cheeks pink, she smiled as she saw him. With both hands full of bags, she shrugged her shoulders to slough off her wrap, which fell, tangled around one wrist.
“Good day, Durl. I hear your child is ready to meet you.”
Before he could respond, Marla screamed.
Without another word to him, the Birther ran for his wife’s side. With a weary sigh, he placed the kettle on a tray and stepped over the still scattered remains of his dinner.
ONE
“Kivantia,” her mother hissed. “Your hair is showing! Please, take care and cover it.”
“But Mama, Papa asked me to tend the sheep today. I’ll see no one on the hills, I’m sure of it.”
“Kiva, please, do as I ask.”
Without waiting for her daughter’s compliance, she turned back to the bread she was kneading by planting a fist to the dough.
Rolling her silver-blue eyes behind her mother’s back, Kiva did as she’s told. While she’s not exactly positive as to why she must shield her hair, her mother is frantic that its true color not be seen by anyone.
Up until about two years ago her mother took care of covering her hair, but when she finally reached sixteen years, her mother decided it was time that she took over the tedious task.
Walking over to the mirror set into the wardrobe by the front door, she inspected her hair. Turning her head this way and that, she finally discovers the offending lock. With a sigh, she wanders to her room to fix it. Reaching for the powder box, she flips back the lid to reveal the finely ground, light and airy, brown pigment. Dipping her fingers into the silky powder, she picks up a fine film and then slides the contents over her hair.
Grumbling under her breath, Kiva takes her time to make sure the powder stays in place. While she’s fascinated by the way it transforms her hair, she much prefers her natural color. Her father says it’s like looking at a sunset. Bright and fiery, and if not restrained within a braid, almost as wild as an unrestrained blaze.
She hated changing her hair, which, when newly washed really was the color of fire. In fact, she loved her hair. Her mother doesn’t know it, but sometimes, in the evenings after she’s washed away the days dust and grime, the likes to open her bedroom windows, where she invites the fading sunlight to flood her room. It’s really the only time of the day she gets to enjoy what she was born with. She especially loves the way the sun and wind grabs hold of her hair and sets it flying all around her. Her mother would be well and truly shocked if she knew.
While tending to her hair, her eyes wander over her face. Except for her unusual hair, she thinks her countenance is quite unremarkable. Although she wouldn’t admit it, she is pleased that her mother gifted her many of her fine features, she likes to see the few small touches of her father here and there.
Like her mother, her eyes are the same silvery blue. While they both also share the same straight lined nose and soft oval jaw, her mouth is most like her fathers. Full lips that aren’t overly large, she rubs them together to infuse them with a bit of color. Smiling at her reflection, she likes how she’s the perfect blend of her parents while being uniquely her own.
Finished, she inspects her hair once more. Satisfied that all of her hair is now the light chestnut color her mother prefers, she closes the powder box and wipes her hands against her thighs.
Taking a deep breath, she exits her room so she can face her mother’s scrutiny. Stepping into the kitchen, Kivantia took another deep breath and clasped her hands behind her back as she waited for her mother to turn from her work.
She stood there for what felt like all day, but she was used to it. Her mother always made her wait.
When she finally turned and faced her daughter, it was with an arched brow. Spinning a finger in the air between them, she silently commanded her daughter to take a turn, which Kiva did. Slowly.
Having completed a full circle, she held up her hands and asked, “Am I presentable? May I go outside now and see no one?”
Dropping the hard façade, Marla walked up to her daughter and cupped her face. “I’m only protecting you, you know that, don’t you?”
Exasperated by the response she has heard for as long as she can remember, Kiva asks her usual counter question. “I know you say you are, but protection from what? You don’t make Ermid color his hair.”
She knew she sounded like a petulant child, whining and begging for things to go her way, but surely she was old enough to know of whatever danger that was lurking outside the safety of her home.
Giving her daughter a sympathetic smile, Marla tucked the few strands of stray hairs behind Kivantia’s ears. “That’s because Ermid’s hair is already a very pleasing and unremarkable brown and I don’t want to worry you. For all I know it could be nothing, and I refuse to chance your safety when it’s such an easy task to powder your hair.”
“Will you ever tell me?”
Ignoring her question, Marla tried to redirect her daughter’s thoughts. “That reminds me, Ermid came across a bramble of untouched starberry. Enough so that I have a few extra jars and I promised Nelida that I would send her some the next time I made jam.”
“Jam?” Her tone incredulous, Kiva could do nothing more than stand there gaping at her mother.
Brushing off the question lingering in the air between them, Marla turned toward the pantry to retrieve a
basket and the jam. Taking her time settling her items in the basket, Marla tried to think of a way out of their current conversation. However, she could think of none. Fixing her best smile in place before she turned around, she hoped it would be enough for daughter.
“Here,” she passed Kiva the basket, widening her smile. “Please don’t linger.”
Realizing she isn’t going to get anything more from her mother today, Kiva tries on her own smile. Disliking how it feels, she lets it fall as she gives her mother a nod.
Outside, she glances around for her father or brother, but they’re not within eyesight. Releasing a sigh Kiva walks to Spider’s stall to find her already saddled.
Her father always seems to know when she will be in need of a good run to wipe away the hurt feelings that always bloom from not getting the answers she continually seeks.
Smiling to herself, she extended her fingers and ran them down her horse’s velvety black nose. Whickering a welcome as she shuffles within her stall, Kiva could tell she too was ready to get away for a while.
Placing her basket atop the post just outside her black and white horse’s stall, Kiva opened the gate and climbed atop her mare’s back. Readjusting her skirt, she gave Spider only what she needed to encourage her to start walking. As Spider left her stall, Kivantia reached out, picked up the basket, and settled it on her lap.
Clicking her tongue, she let Spider take the lead. At least until they hit the main road, that is. From there Kiva pulled her reins to the left, directing her toward town.
She knows her mother said not to linger, but since she’s not allowed into the village unattended very often, she’s going to take full advantage of the small freedom and visit Darra, her dearest friend.
Entering town always sends a thrill of excitement running up Kiva’s spine. Usually, she’s in the company of her parents for these visits, but not always. It’s during these rare times that Kiva feels most alive. Almost as if she could be anyone else out in the world and not some oddity with strange hair.