Family

Sen’s grumble by the window that faced the woods drew Bard from his work. She was using a spread of leaves like a fan as she looked for the water. He smiled and walked to the barrel in the storage. After cracking open the lid, he found her right beside him, sighing as she dipped a cup in, gathering the cold water.

“It’s so hot,” she muttered, and Bard watched her tug at her clothes before downing the glass. He reached for a cloth and soaked it in the water and placed it against her neck. She stood erect as it touched, and then sighed in relief. Her hum of contentment was cut short as she pulled on her clothes again, grumbling. “I think I need to ask the catfolk for help. The clothes we bought last are just uncomfortable,” she said, walking out. Bard paused in the doorway as she walked to the couch, a smile tugging at his lips. She had been like this for weeks now, the complaints becoming louder and more pronounced, the woods had nearly been brought inside, and he found her napping frequently throughout the day. She claimed it was hot, but it wasn’t. He barely felt it, despite it being the middle of summer. As she lay on the couch, he pushed himself over.

“It’s not that hot,” he teased, and she gave him a slightly withering glance before relaxing again. He stepped closer, brushing aside some hair as he sat next to her. “Maybe… it’s not the suns that are making you hot.” He knew what Elwood and Amir suggested, but he had waited. Her bump was something he barely could notice, but it was there.

She blinked at him, confused. “What else could it be? I’ve been so tired lately and now this,” she indicated to her waistline that was bothering her, huffing. “I’m falling apart, Bard.”

He chuckled and pulled her hand to her belly with his. “You’re not falling apart. You’re… growing.” He paused, her eyes searching his. He could feel his excitement growing, ready to share this with her.

“I’m not getting fat. Have I been eating too much?”

Bard froze and then laughed. He brushed her cheek.

“There’s a little someone in there, I think.”

Her eyes grew wide and she sat up. He could see her mind grasping at that, as her finger ran across her stomach before she grabbed his own. She then blinked hard as tears began to flow. The leaves she had carried fell to the floor.

“Is this what you were keeping secret?” she asked, her voice cracking, cheeks flashing redder than the summer heat could ever make them. Bard pulled her close, his free hand stroking her head.

“Yes,” he half chuckled, half choked on relief. “You’re carrying our baby. That’s why you’re warm, and tired, and why your clothes aren’t fitting as well anymore. Or why you want me to play all the time, or be in the forest.”

She laughed. It was a gentle laughter, instead of her hearty laugh. He continued to hold her, feeling the tears fall. He could sense it. She was scared, excited, nervous. Most of the feelings he had been grappling with were in her every movement. However, he mostly felt relief. He no longer had to keep it secret.

She stayed close to him, even when he moved to finish his work. Her legs were draped across his lap when some of the Dryads came through to get their instruction.

After all that, he closed his doors and cuddled her and brought her to their room.

“Hasina is already working on your new clothes,” he commented as she looked at her wardrobe.

“How could you tell I was thinking about that?” she asked. Bard chuckled.

“I’ve been married to you almost two years now. It’s not secret what you were thinking,” she sat on the bed timidly, and he laughed, moving in front of her. As he looked into her emerald eyes, admiring their beauty, she grew flush.

“Now what?”

“Tonight? Or did you mean after that?” he teased and she licked her lips.

“I know about tonight, but after that?”

“I’ll let your father and grandfather know that I’ve told you. We’ll pay a visit to Elvira and I imagine word will get around,” he said and she smirked.

“No rest for the chief,” she teased, and he groaned. She gave him a kiss on the cheek, and he returned one on the lips, before heading to bed.

Word spread fast. The Chief’s wife was with child, a half-human, half-Dryad heir. As if sensing the joy, the shades came in nightly, but on the same scale of the horde. Sen was housebound, forced to rest. Bard didn’t even have to raise a voice on that, her father was adamant.

After battling with the shades for a few months, autumn turned crisp and the harvest brought in. The shades departed, offering a reprieve. Villagers whispered blessings, piling gifts at their door. Woven blankets, carved toys, clothes and the odd catfolk trinkets. Bard found her sitting by the fire, Kai becoming a comforting, comfortable cushion to rest on. Her belly swelled as she traced the kicks with a smile. Bard continued to do his work at home, finding it easier to stay now that everyone was anticipating their little one.

“When do you think they’ll be born?” she asked, one night, the fire cackling nearby. Bard stirred from his work.

“I don’t know. Father said, it wouldn’t be as long as your people, or as short as mine. Elvira expects the end of fall at the earliest, while your dad thinks next spring.”

“Oh please not next spring,” she groaned and Bard chuckled.

Late fall brought frost, and her waddle slowed her walks in the forest. Bard assisted as she leaned on him, huffing.

“Argh. I’m a bumbling barrel now!” she huffed. He chuckled, but he still scanned the forest, wary of any dangers that might come at them.

The baby’s kicks grew stronger, a fighter already, and he’d rest his hand there, marveling at the wonder.

The village buzzed, hope in every glance, fear in every dark corner. The shades stayed away, and only the occasional report from the scouts told of the southern tribes.

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Mid-winter settled over the village like a heavy blanket, snow muffling the world outside. The threat of war was beginning to loom. Across the valley, flames illuminated the mountains to the south, and clouds showed no stopping in the day. The scouts reported of the southern tribe’s migration north, too close for comfort.

But inside their home, time seemed to pause.

Bard watched Sen pace anew. She had complained of pains that morning. But they had subsided. He kept pouring over the reports until he heard her footsteps again. He saw her rubbing at her swollen belly, until a sharp breath escaped her lips and she slightly collapsed to the floor.

Tablets scattered as he dashed over to her, her hand grasping his with an iron grip. Sweat was already dripping.

“It’s happening,” she muttered with a groan. He felt his resolve waver, and she encouraged him to leave her to fetch Elvira.

He did so, and soon their home was filled with quiet helpers. He stayed by her, keeping her moving when she needed help, brushing damp hair from her face. Eventually, the women took her into a room and left him outside. Amir and Elwood showed up, along with Keith. Jamil was the last to come, and Kihana left them and joined the others, while Bard began to pace. Hours stretched, the fire cackling low. Kai kept nudging him to bring him out of his spirals.

Then as dawn grayed the sky, a new sound, one of a fierce tiny cry, filled the home. Bard was brought in, and he weaved past the women. Kihana was nearby and Bard’s eyes caught sight of Sen, resting with a little bundle in her arms. He moved close and leaned over her shoulder, heart thudding. White little hairs and blue eyes looked up at him, both surprising him and endearing him. Little pointed ears poked out from the bundle, not as sharp as Sen’s but more pronounced than his.

“He’s perfect,” Sen muttered. Bard nodded, too choked to speak, his hand resting on his son’s chest. Those little hands moved and seemingly wrapped around one of his fingers. Bard nearly melted at that.

Kihana slipped out to spread the news.

Villagers cheered outside, surprising them. Bard sank beside her as the women left. His arms wrapped around them both and Sen leaned into him, the baby snuffling against her.

“A son,” he said, voice rough with awe, and she echoed it, soft as snow.

“Our son.”

The first year was a whirlwind. Bard and Sen struggled to find a name, wanting something more neutral and found in all the races that called Sal Shefa their home. Finally, a name came forth that they liked. Zak. Though, when Jamil heard it, he laughed. “Pure, huh? For a half-blood, it’s fitting.” Bard and Sen loved it anyway, the name sticking like a charm.

Zak wailed with lungs fit for a chief’s heir, and Bard played soothing melodies while Sen rocked him to sleep, her voice weaving in harmony. Zak’s favorite seemed to be when they rotated through the different Elder’s songs.

On one occasion, Bard took Zak in his arms and sat in the window sill, looking out at the sunstones, and the occasional bright start that peeked through. He shifted and pulled out his tokens, letting their gentle melody hum to the sleeping Zak.

As he caressed the sleeping face, he heard a slight thump outside and noticed Kai move around to sit, so his head was level with the window. He had a growth spurt, hopefully the last one. As he saw the tiny one Bard’s arms, he took on a silly grin, tongue hanging as his tail thumped outside. Bard motioned for him to be quiet and pointed to the sky, which helped his friend to remember that there were sleeping people around. He shifted, so Zak’s face could show a bit better, and Kai’s ears shifted as he tilted his head, looking at the babe. He then moved his nose closer and licked the window. Bard chuckled and then gave a stern glare at his friend. This was why he could only look through the window. Too many kisses, and Zak was still too young to receive that sort of affection. Zak shifted and Bard quickly turned his attention, shifting to have him go back to sleep. He stayed by the window, enjoying these moments while he could, grateful Sen took most of them so he could rest, but tonight, it was his treasure.

The months passed and Bard learned how to sway to Sen’s voice so that Zak fell asleep more quickly and the two exhausted parents could rest. Elwood would help with bring in supplies, one thing that was now off their plate, and that catfolk who helped before came regularly to clean for them.

Bard learned that some of the others were also expecting, and Elvira blamed it on them for leading the way. Bard apologized, but was also hardly apologetic. These days passed in harmony, with bits of fatigue and joy mixed in.

Year two came and Bard grew worried as Elvira pointed out that most kids this age were toddling around and babbling. Zak still grew, but it was slower, unable to fully sit on his own, let alone move to his stomach. Sen marveled at the speed that he seemed to progress, which helped calm his nerves, but still, when he heard those first babbles beyond a coo, he was spellbound. And when Zak finally rolled to his stomach, he cheered him on with Sen.

By the end of the year, he began his first words, though it was hardly what they expected. A jumble of ‘sun’ in the catfolk language, ‘tree’ in Asternum, and ‘no’ in Bard’s human bark made them collapse in laughter. His teeth came in, much to Sen’s dismay, and he was eager to sample new things, throwing tempers as his arms gained strength. Bard was at a loss most times, and heavily relied on Sen as she stuck close to Zak, even taking him with her to the woods.

Bard, bleary from war councils, those pesky southern neighbors having got more aggressive, and the dryads from those regions also joining in the fray, left an endless amount of work. When Zak cried out, he stifled the urge to yell back, dropping against Kai’s frame, who eagerly enjoyed watching the young child.

Sen helped Kai and Zak acclimate to one another, and seeing their son sleeping peacefully on Kai’s side became a treasured memory. However, it was short-lived when Zak began to figure out how to scoot around. Kai refused to come inside now that his territory was taken any time he set foot inside.

By year three, the shades had returned, and Bard learned of the demise of the forces to the south. He tried to keep Zak inside during these times, but his flailing arms when he was denied a tree to climb, or a stick to bring inside, tested them. Bard would quietly groan as they fell on the bed, worn out. “Your temper.” Sen would snap back. “Your impatience.” Both, however, were proud of their little storm.

At the first signs of winter, the flowers bloomed, and a strange occurrence happened with Zak. His ear tips changed to blue, and a similar shade appeared in his hair, till he had an interesting streak in his bangs. Bard asked around, and neither the dryads, the catfolk, nor the humans had any idea. Sen however was fond of the added color and played with his ears frequently, till he was tired of his mom’s antics and wanted to play with the toys the catfolk gifted. Bard still could tell that while it was a gift for his family, it was a type of marketing to get other new parents to buy the things.

Zak became able to walk about, during this time, and Bard and Sen scrambled to move things higher so he couldn’t get to them.

It was in the beginning of his fourth year that Bard caught him pulling on a twig and then putting it to his lips. The pose was so similar to Bard’s when he played the flute that he froze at the sight, before melting at the sweetness of it all. Sen would lure him in with tales of their travels to meet the elders, braiding his curls while he squirmed, whining for freedom.

“He’s pure chaos sometimes,” Bard remarked as they moved things up out of reach yet again. Sen laughed.

“He’s pure Zak.” Playing on his name meaning, before finishing the task.

As spring came, turning into summer, Sen took him out to the woods often. He’d bolt ahead, vanishing into thickets, and Sen would huff, trying to chase after him.

“He’s too good at hiding,” she complained to Bard, but her words would always follow about the fact that once she gave up, he would come toddling back with a goofy grin.

As his command over words grew, so did their problems. Zak would plead for ‘one more story’ in three tongues now, catfolk, Dryad and human, all tangled up.

“Definitely ours,” Sen muttered, having tucked the young boy into bed. Her smile and endearing glance towards him made Bard pull her in.

“He’s cute like his mother.” He teased, a kiss planting on her lips. Zak added a wonder that was brighter than the war’s shadows and helped them stay grounded.

However, it wasn’t meant to stay a little paradise. The shades still loomed and one night, Bard heard the sickening creaking and cracking of their tokens.