A Test of a Mother's Strength

         Sleep called to her in little whispers. It murmured in her ear sweet nothings, coaxing her ever slowly into a world of fading black. Her body had long since been telling her that it needed to replenish itself. Fresh wounds marred her skin; they had yet the chance to begin the healing process. The blood loss would naturally contribute to the tiredness, but she fought it off. She couldn’t allow herself that. It wasn’t safe. He wasn’t safe.
         A ball of warmth moved against her belly. Instinctively, she pulled him against her. But, no matter how close he was, it would never be close enough. Her weary eyes flicked down to the opening of her heavy cloak. A mop of blue hair peaked between the fabric. She could feel his steady, even breaths against the palm of her hand. He slept on.
         For the merest of moments, the lids closed over her deep blue eyes. She jerked herself awake. Now was not the time. She wouldn’t be so selfish as to put her baby in danger because of her own weakness. It was time to stay alert. A foe could be nearer than she knew. And when the time came, she would draw her weapon against anyone who dared harm the boy child.
         On her right, she heard an approaching horse. The gait was one familiar to her own ears; her body relaxed. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a deep chestnut colored stallion. Its rider was, for the most part, hidden from view by the cloak he donned. Long jet black hair fell over his shoulders, shining in the moonlight.
         The woman turned her head to get a full look at her companion. Disappointment and sternness fell upon his features. It didn’t take a wise man to figure out what it meant. She wilted under his gaze. Tears threatened to spill onto her pale cheeks. Her hand nearly reached out to take his.
         Her heart panged. What wouldn’t she give for him to just draw her into his embrace? Why did she have to be so strong? His gravity had been pulling her to him for months, yet she resisted, fought against the inevitable. He loved her. She wouldn’t allow herself to love him back.
         And in that moment, the flood gates opened. She began to cry. Whether it was from lack of sleep or just pure emotional exhaustion, she would never know, but she permitted him once more to see her in a helpless state.
         “My lady needs to rest her weary body. It’s nigh on two days since sleep came to her. In this weakened state, she will be easy prey for the enemy.”
         His deep voice echoed in her ears. It was thick and smooth, inducing only more sobs from her. There was a certain measure of power he had over her, and she hated him for it. And then at once, she thought he might be using his magic on her, forcing her into slumber.
         “I cannot sleep, Atriel. If I let my guard down, there is no telling what will become of my son.”
         A flash of anger burned in his eyes. At one point, the woman thought he might cut off her own mare with his stallion and talk some sense into her. She wished he would just let it go. She wasn’t strong enough to fight him now. This, he knew.
         “A sickly mother is worthless to her young. If you don’t permit us to stop soon and heal ourselves, my lady’s wounds will become infected. We will not be able to make haste in a time of need should that come to pass.”
         Then he gave her a look. It was full of passion and love. It had been a long time since she had seen that expression on any man’s face. Her soul soared. Her heart raced. The defenses that she had been putting up for so long had ceased to exist. There was something else that he yearned to say. And he did.
         “If you love your child, Catalina, you’ll do this for me.”
         How dare he use her son against her. Yet, he was no fool. A mother’s natural instinct to love and protect her baby was being challenged. He was right in doing so. She would be no use to the boy if she were dead. To play on her maternal emotions would be the only way to make her see that slowly by slowly she was killing herself. He knew it.
         “I’m so tired,” she cried, a choking sob following it.
         Atriel halted his horse and dismounted, tying the reins to a sapling by the side of the beaten path. She heard his voice shouting to their other two party members but was unable to make out any of the words. The mare stopped. Her eye lids became heavy. The warmth of her child against her stomach was gone all at once. A whimper escaped between her pouting lips. Not her baby. Please not her baby.
         Hands slipped inside of her cloak, brushing against her sides. She was being slid from the saddle and into the arms of a welcome man. Her head rested against his chest. His scent filled her nose, one of musk, and vanilla, something implacable. She was safe. Her son was safe. Her legs gave out on her. The last thing she recalled was two strong arms catching her falling body. The rest was darkness.