Fairspell Meadow ambaróne

They were? They were! The woman must have known somehow. Wilwarin was incredulous; it would take some time before her mind wrapped around the idea of being pregnant, and that did not account for her disinterest in being a mother, which would arise closer to the due date. After all she had learned from her own mothers, and from her sisters, and from the wilderness that she so loved - how could she be so stupid as to let this happen? She did not feel ashamed — even while the elder woman spoke of that as a possibility — but she did feel fear.

Her own mother had reared children alone, although not wholly alone. For a time she'd had the support of a husband and then after, the support of a village. Wilwarin thought also of Fjall, and how he had been born to a place half-built and doomed to fall, and yet he was out in the wilderness presumably alive and well. She found herself wondering about her family, then. Where was Lote? How could she do anything without her mother to help her?

Or you can come to me. The woman offered! A look of hope sprang to life upon Wilwarin's face. Her lips pressed together, giving a pinched look, while she felt the impulse to whine a pleading sound - but no sound would come, only the expression of please. With her head ducking, Wilwarin moved to touch her nose to the woman's chin as a daughter might to a mother.

In this moment, it seemed the elder woman would be her support.