Bearclaw Valley i never pictured myself singing lullabies

❝  Never was the kind to think about dressing in white
Wasn't waiting on a prince to come riding into my life
Thought I was happy on my own
'Til you came and proved me wrong

Never pictured myself singing lullabies
Sitting in a rocking chair in the middle of the night
In the quiet, in the dark
You're stealing every bit of my heart with your daddy's eyes
What a sweet surprise

Life has a way of showing you just what you need
And who you were made to be, yeah  ❞

 

 

anna was exhausted.    

birthing was hard and mournful work.  the apaata wife's first litter had been far from textbook and she had been lucky that half of her brood thus far were still breathing.  only time would tell how many of them made it to adulthood.  although they were not out of the woods yet, annasiak could rest safely for the night.  she pressed the soft leather of her nose to the crown of one of the babes heads, breathing in the soft-sweet smell of newborn.  with a twinge of grief, she wondered if her mother had ever done the same.  she would never know.

the one thing she desired was to have a momma, something these children would have but that she had always lacked.  when her brother had arrived in bearclaw she thought that at least she would have some family waiting for them, but when she had come back he had fled the valley entirely.  her throat choked with sorrow as she wondered where her littermate was, and if he was alright.  maybe eventually he would return to see his nieces and nephew.

her eyes seached over each of her surviving babies.  she breathes in their soft newborn smell, and suddenly she is so overcome with emotion her breath hitches.  relief flooded over her, and she cried tearlessly over their suckling and sleeping forms.  she was overcome at once with happiness and sorrow, and she knew that she would be a better mother than hers ever was.  a flashback —

 

 

the stranger tucks annasiak close, her tongue smoothing over the frightened child.  it's just thunder, she says, but she knows the poor young girl does not understand.  the child is still surprised when the old woman speaks, and turns to her with wild eyes filled with terror.

she sucks in a breath.  she was not prepared for this poor lost child the world had given her.  she was old and frail; she had been sure her days of child-rearing were over, and she knew that soon she would return to dust.

and once she was dead, what would become of her?  it filled the elder with grief.  they would have to find a home, and they would have to do it quickly.  

the child trembles up against her as another clap of thunder shatters the rain, and quietly, the stranger began to sing.

❛ somewhere over the rainbow, way up high
and the dreams that you dream of, once in a lullaby
somewhere over the rainbow, blue birds fly
and the dreams that you dream of, dreams really do come true

someday I'll wish upon a star
wake up where the clouds are far behind me
where trouble melts like lemon drops
high above the chimney top
that's where you'll find me ❜

the words she did not know, she hummed.  slowly, the child sunk into her thin, frail old limbs and fell asleep.  the elder followed soon after, and when annasiak came to in the morning, the stranger would no longer be breathing.

 

 

— thunderclapped into her mind.  she curled protectively around her children, and although their ears were not yet open, she began to hum the tune that came from her memories as the rain began to fall.

theme, dated for the evening of april first