[private] I couldn't utter my love when it counted; birthing

[adna]

one touch will make you so nervous you might stop breathing
one touch will make you so reckless you might start feeling
one touch will finally show to me what you can't hide

Her daughter has all of her rage but at such an early age.

Adna had been such a sweet child. She had been joyful and soft and all of the goodness of her mother wrapped in all of her father’s boldness. She had been courageous and fierce and so ready to become a warrior like her dad. She had wanted to patrol borders with him. Learn how to fight to protect the things that she loves. Instead she had learned what it means to be split open and how to fight to stay alive. She had learned how to be guarded. How to be safe.

She does not recognize that her daughter has the hunger so early.

Misses the signs that point to her family’s darkness curling in her like smoke.

She laughs mildly at the sound of her hissing and spitting. Smooths the fluff of her forelock and smiles into it. “Let’s hope she’s not like me,” she says before catching herself. “Whatever she will be is perfect, I am sure.” She swallows hard and then says. “Your grandfather will be so proud to see you, little Gospel. He is going to love you so completely.”

She doesn’t mention how he will mourn for another cursed child.

She doesn’t mention that he has no idea how she will bring herself to show him.

She just finds Beth’s face, all of the rugged stoicism, and breathes it in deep. “Anywhere, I suppose,” answering his earlier question. She can’t imagine anyone wanting to be here with her, even if it means being with their perfect child. “I’m glad you’re still in Taiga.”

Then another breath as her daughter curls into her.

“Have you decided to stay,” a short laugh, “for now at least?”

Then, softer, to her daughter, “You can sleep. If you are getting tired, little one.”

ADNA