“I'm sorry.” Hind draws her eyebrows together and pouts. If she's pretending to be confused, she's doing an admirable job. “I wanted fresh air. I didn't think it would be an issue. Walking is beneficial for early labor, isn't it?”
Shay opens her mouth to continue chiding, but stops short. “Early labor? Have you had any contractions?”
“Only mild belly hugs,” Hind replies cheerily.
Shay lays a hand on her mother's shoulder, squeezing gently. “Any bleeding?”
“A faint pink drizzle.”
At that, the brothers all turn their faces away in various degrees. Shay's chest tightens, zinging between anxiety and excitement. Labor poses serious risks for Hind, but its occurrence is inevitable, and Shay can't wait to meet her sister.
“Let's go upstairs and prepare the room.”
“Actually, I have a request.” Hind smiles timidly. “I was hoping you could make me rfissa. I have a strong craving for the dish, and fenugreek is known to push labor along. See, I also know a thing or two about birthing.”
“That's a lovely idea,” Shay says, pleased she already had the foresight to forage a hefty bouquet of the herb. “I'll send one of the brothers up with you.”
“No need.” Hind waves her thin hand in the air dismissively. “I'm just going to finish up that blanket while I have the chance.”
“You shouldn't be alone,” Shay insists, looking around at the brothers, not one of who meets her eye. “Really? Are you all that embarrassed about female bodily processes?”
“I'll go,” Deebi says, his expression making it clear he'd rather do anything else. He smooths a hand over his curving horn like it's a strength-giving talisman.
Shay peers intently into Hind's eyes and says, “Send Deebi down if there's any change in the frequency or intensity of your contractions. Understand?”
If she's excited about the birth, or afraid, or anxious at all, it doesn't show. Her face is serene, almost stoic. “Yes, I promise.”
Shay fends off a shiver as Deebi follows her mother upstairs. Experience has taught her nothing good comes of promises.
While the chicken-and-lentil stew simmers, Shay rolls out the dough to make the flaky squares of msmen traditionally served with rfissa. The give of soft dough beneath her fingers and the fragrant steam of spices swirling in the air have a calming effect on her.
Shay whispers blessings for a successful birth outcome. She never got to prove herself to Ghita while her foster mother was alive, but she hopes she honors her memory. That somewhere in the life that follows, the midwife's soul will guide her. That she'll be proud.
She leaves the dough to rest, empties the crumbs collected at the bottom of yesterday's khobz basket into her hand, and scatters the grains on the windowsill. Several midnight irises soon arrive to hungrily peck at them. The dark-brown birds have yellow beaks and a crest of shiny feathers down the middle of their heads.
Propping her elbows on the window, Shay watches them. “I wish I could fly like you; it would certainly make the mission I've been tasked with easier.”
The biggest of the birds hops closer to her and lowers its head.Our recent journey has been long, Lalla. Your offerings are much appreciated.A ruffle passes through its glossy feathers, showering the windowsill in tiny white specks.
Shay catches a speck on her fingertip, and the cold crystal melts on contact with her warm skin. “Is this snow?”
The bird bobs its tufted head.We've just migrated from the mountains of Umm Chanala, where the weather is not quite so warm as it is here.
The weather is another factor she didn't consider that will increase the hardships of any potential travel. Even if she and Shadi make plans to leave right after Hind delivers, it will be next to impossible to cover such distances in so short a time while navigating diverse terrains like snow-flooded mountains and underwater seascapes. Even Khawla's gift may not have been enough to guarantee them success.
Think about how the gift you possess may aid you in your task, the Morchidat said.
Do you really want to feel what it's like?The bird interrupts Shay's thoughts.
“What's that?”
Flying? Do you want to feel what it's like?
She thinks the bird must have meant to sayknownotfeel. Or perhaps it did say that—or think it—and her magic missed the correct translation by a degree. “Are you going to describe it to me?”
No, I'm going to show you. If you want me to.
Shay isn't sure if the bird is saying what she thinks or if such a thing is possible, but … sometimes in her dreams, she doesn't just talk to animals. Sometimes, she dreams that she becomesonewith them. It's not something she ever imagined attempting while awake …
