A sob lodged in the back of Alea’s throat. She nodded.
Danae tensed with her sister as the next contraction came, the air expelling from both their lungs in unison. Again and again they strained, riding the tide of the birth together, until with one last heave, the baby slid free of Alea.
Heart in her throat, Danae peered around her sister and glimpsed a very human-looking foot. Relief washed through her.
“Danae,” panted her mother. “Get the knife, and make sure you sterilize it.”
She rose to her feet and staggered to the table. Fumbling the blade into her hand, she held it over the fire, then returned to her mother. She stared in amazement at the tiny person in Eleni’s arms. It was a boy. Underneath all the slime he was perfect, down to each tiny toe and the little hands resting on her mother’s arm.
“Cut the cord.”
Hands shaking, she sliced through the sinuous rope and her mother whisked the child into the air, patting his back. The baby did not cry.
“What’s happening?” her sister murmured weakly.
No one answered. Danae sank to her knees, staring at the tiny blood-soaked body, while her mother continued to try and activate his lungs.
Finally, a cry pierced the air.
Her mother let out a long sigh and laid the wailing child against her shoulder, bobbing him gently up and down.
Suddenly her sister sank back on her knees, gripping her stomach. She groaned.
“What’s wrong with her?” Danae rubbed her sister’s back, powerless but to watch Alea endure yet more pain.
“The afterbirth.” Her mother’s attention was still on the child. “Get her on her back and press down on her stomach.”
For a moment, Danae thought her legs were going to give way, but she forced her limbs into action and eased her sister onto her back, laying her shaking hands on Alea’s stomach.
“That’s it.” Her mother hovered over her with the baby. “Help it out.”
She pressed down on her sister’s abdomen. Alea gasped and the last of the birth slid from between her legs. Danae stared at the bloody sack. It was strangely beautiful. Root-like veins unfurled from the trunk of the umbilical cord and wound around the membrane, like a tree taking nourishment from its own little pouch of earth.
Then the door swung open, and her father entered the room. His eyes roved across the carnage of blood and bodies to settle on his grandchild.
“All is well.” Her mother smiled. “A boy.”
Dropping his nets and ropes, he hurried over to Alea and gently patted her shoulder. “Well done, my girl.”
“Ma,” Alea breathed through waxy lips.
Their mother wiped him then lowered the squalling baby onto Alea’s chest. Danae watched the little body rise and fall with her sister’s breath. As his mother held him, the child quietened.
She edged closer. There were downy hairs on his face. He changed from moment to moment. One minute he had the wrinkled brow of an old man, the next his little pink tongue protruded like a budding flower. Warmth swelled inside her. She hadn’t expected this. Even the red patches on his face were perfect.
The baby squirmed, and his small, swollen eyelids opened for the first time. She held her breath. His eyes were deep pools of blue that looked much older than the brand-new creature they inhabited.
Alea looked up at her, eyes shining through her tears.
“Arius.”
“Hello, Arius,” Danae whispered.
She reached out, and he gripped her finger in his fist. She marveled at the strength in his tiny hands, each nail a pearly fragment of seashell.
In that moment, the entire world was contained in their hut. Then Danae looked up and saw something that sent a jolt of fear down her spine.
A pair of crimson eyes was watching them through the window.
