For three nights passing, Wenndolyne had barely slept. She went about her day, greeting friends in the firehall, assuring Simon that his father, Lord Wolf, would return though she herself could not guess when. His visit from Lyric, so welcome, so needed, was all too fleeting. She knew Wolf had duties mounded upon him in that land of conflict and he would not have come at all had Sir Poet's word to him not been so persuasive. Wenn needed so much to see her love and though she was grateful, a part of her began to wonder... shall that be her last memory of him?
In the middle of the night, only a few after Lord Wolf's brief visit, Wenn was awakened abruptly from her fitful sleep. The chill air breezed across the cold sweat that had dampened her hair and gown. She shifted and swung her feet to the floor, sitting up, rubbing her face with her hands. Wolf's pendant and its power, now made part of her, could feel it. Something was amiss... something more than just missing him. His child within her had been restless of late but this night she could feel a more pronounced... disturbance... a shivering or shudder, separate from her own.
Wenn could no longer sit still in the dark room. She rose and walked out into the hall and to Simon's room. Standing in the doorway, Wenn could hear Simon's little snoring sounds even as he shifted restlessly in his sleep. She was concerned but grateful he had not awakened. Hiding her fear or explaining it away was something she could not do just now, not for Simon, not even for herself. Wenn steadied herself against the doorframe as she looked over Simon and out the window. Her mouth went dry even as the child within her moved suddenly enough to make her feel nauseous... or was it the light?
Her heart sank. Her eyes welled with tears, blurring what she saw. Though she had no notion what it was, some knowing deep within her, some knowing from her Wolf or her own soul, told her this light was to be feared. Wenn crossed quietly around to the window then the deep sense of fear and sorrow sat her heavily onto the edge of Simon's bed. The soft pale blue of moonlight did not drift through the window to comfort her. Instead, there is a sickening golden yellow glow on the black horizon.
Wenndolyne closed her eyes against the distant amber light, causing a single tear to slip down over her cheek. Her hands caressed her mounded belly in a rhythmic motion to soothe the child so restless within her. She hummed quietly to calm herself and chase away the images from her mind. The echo of nightmares that have plagued her sleep... swords clashing, children starving, blood spilt for no reason but chaos... finally began to fade through sheer force of will. And Wolf... she could not think on him, where he was, if he was safe. She would have to trust that he was well, unable to consider the alternative. In any case, she did sense him in some way, so she knew he did yet live. Wenn hummed a little louder, drowning out her thoughts.
Simon's restlessness subsided with her humming too and weariness overtook Wenn. She curled up in the bed next to him, seeing that they are both tucked in tight beneath the covers. At last sleep found her again, as she pushed away the questions about what was causing this strange disturbance and vowed silently not to be so affected by it. Her unborn child was in the safest place it shall ever be and she must not taint it with worry.
(..)
