The Heartwood ego

as the wraith, made sluggish and bloated with the now-obvious signs of pregnancy, steps over the jagged stump, she pauses. she wavers a moment there, made difficult by her ever-shift center of balance. she imagines the short-lived joy that would come with collapsing onto it, ending definitively that lives that used her as host. 

the woman lusted, above all, for control. power was often affiliated with that, yes, and thus far she'd made the right choices, carved out the perfect path. but with what had been nothing but a half-hearted attempt at rattling the hierarchy, she'd effectively and suddenly lost all control. her body was no longer her own, the man she'd taken interest in had been murdered, and a child claimed what should have been hers. branded with titles she'd never wanted, pregnant, and mother. 

but despite her sharp-edged hatred for those she carries, the desire to see their end, she will not sacrifice her own life for what she so desperately desires. she will be patient. and so, with only hesitation to hint at her thoughts, the woman moves on.