Weston didn't reply right away, but the look on his face told me that wasn't quite what he had in mind. "I don't know. But if that's the case, we may need to intervene. Fish eggs are different than bird eggs. A fish won't be able to escape a hard shell on its own."
My heart raced frantically. I would do anything to help my baby. But breaking open a shell without hurting the baby inside was a delicate process. It wasn't something I could do with my bare hands. Thankfully, Weston's beak and talons were fine-tuned instruments. If it came down to it, he would be able to assist. Still, that didn't make me any less nervous.
Then our baby harpy shrieked and kicked his sibling with taloned feet as if to sayhurry up already!It cracked a hole in the side of the shell.
"Ah!" My anxiety flared. "Is that supposed to happen?"
Weston gathered up our son and sat on him like a mother hen. If it was any other time, I would've laughed at the comical sight, but right now I was worried about our second baby.
But the tiny chip in the shell seemed to be exactly what the egg needed. A moment later, a small finger thrust out of the hole.
I gasped. "Weston, look!"
We watched closely, holding our breath as the little finger became two, then a small fist. Even from the hand alone I could tell the second baby was much larger than its older twin.
"Wait... A hand," I murmured. "Does that mean they're both harpies?"
Weston didn't speak. He stared at the egg with wide yellow eyes, like he was expecting something to happen.
A low wail came from inside the egg. My heart leapt into my throat.
"It needs help," I said.
Weston didn't hesitate. He leapt in with his beak, carefully tearing off a huge chunk of the shell and exposing the baby inside. Like its sibling, it appeared fully human, until--
I sucked in a sharp breath.
With the top half of the shell removed, the second baby fell forward in the nest and wriggled out of the rest of the egg. But where his legs should have been...
Was a fish tail.
I blinked, then blinked again to make sure I wasn't seeing things.
"Is that...?" I asked.
Weston leaned in and chirped happily. "So my hunch was right." He laughed. "Nishiki, our sons are a harpy and a mer."
"A mer? Wait, like a mermaid?" Realizing he was also a boy, I corrected myself. "Or a merman?"
"That's right."
I glanced down at our two boys with a full heart. "I can't believe it. We have the two most special kids in the world!"
The mer boy yawned, looking grumpy to be out of the shell. But he didn't have any trouble breathing, thankfully, like I'd been worried about if one of our eggs hatched into a fish. In fact, he seemed to be perfectly fine on land, just like his brother.
"About those names," Weston said, his eyes sparkling as he gazed at me. "They ended up being perfect after all."
"Cloud and River. One of the sky and one of the water," I repeated softly, glancing at our newborns. A bright smile broke out over my face. I scooped up Cloud, our little harpy boy, and nuzzled him. He chirped a bird-like sound. I picked up River next, who hung grumpily in my arms like he'd rather be somewhere else. I laughed. Our twins only just hatched from their eggs and already they had so much personality. "They're so beautiful, Weston."
Weston smiled at me. "Just like their alpha daddy."
"No," I said, leaning over to kiss his head. "Just likeboththeir daddies."
