Swiftcurrent Creek As my garden grows aches and the turf drinks old rain

there was nothing, only the sound of breeze above swiftcurrent, and then there were a thousand things at once.
reverie first; his eyes went to her; lestan was rendered helpless by love, and then speechless by what she carried.
the deer bone fell from his jaws.
he grabbed feverishly for it but stopped; he could not take his eyes from the child! the child! his?? his!
and now mouth dry he formed shaking words, trying to speak her name aloud, gazing at her figure with its new curves and the tiredness of her flawless face.
and then a shadow fell across it, and lestan blinked up towards the stern features of moss. had he been a scant more observant he might have questioned why she stood so close, but for now he saw only the unwelcome she brought with her.
what was happening?
akavir next, speaking in his careful way, calling him cousin. lestan's head turned toward him almost blearily before he snapped his eyes back to reverie, sickness and shock and horror and love, love, welling inside him all at once. "is —"
lestan felt faint. his mouth tasted of salt. but he would not be sick here before them. arric was last to arrive, and the mayfair looked at him in the same empty, wondering way before he tried to speak again: "reverie?" voice weak even if she had already turned away with moss and with their child.