Aviva
It’s just after dawn when I slide Lexa into her sling and head out of the house into another warm, later summer morning. The sun stretches across the pastures, casting golden light as far as the eye can see. Lexa–who I’ve taken to carrying on my back lately–coos softly as she uses my hair as reins, her chubby fingers tangled in the sloppy braid I managed to throw together just after I woke up, alone in bed, in a quiet house.
I stare at the road leading into the forest–out of the valley of Silverhide. It’s empty. No wolves trot in my direction. I grind my teeth as the crippling unease that’s been coasting through my body for days nearly chokes me, but I turn toward Freya and Andrew’s house.
Andrew built Freya a shopfront earlier this spring while they waited for their son, Samuel, to make his arrival. It’s cozied up beside his blacksmith shop, and her gorgeous tapestries and woven clothing hang in the sun-glazed windows.
It’s not like we have money like in Crescent Falls and the larger Rogueland cities, but we do trade and barter here in the Deadlands, and so far, Freya’s been living like a queen.
I step inside her shop and follow the lifted female laughter and softer chatter to a back room where several looms are currently creaking and groaning over the conversations being had by at least six women and girls.
“I didn’t think you’d make it this morning,” Freya says excitedly, rushing up to me and kissing me on each cheek. “I thought Ryan was supposed to get back last night?”
“He’s held up in Endova,” I tell her, biting back my displeasure. He’s been gone for two weeks, which is killing me. It’s honestly hard to believe there was ever a time I didn’t know him, that I lived without him. Now, he’s practically the air I breathe and… I’m also desperate for a break.
Lexa presses her mouth against my back, blowing raspberries against my skin. Freya beams, clapping her hands at Lexa’s new little trick.
“Where’s Sam?” I ask, glancing around while Freya scoops Lexa out of her sling and cradles her against her shoulder.
“He’s with… someone….” She looks around until she spots her son fast asleep in the arms of an elderly woman whose fingers are busy knitting what looks like a new sweater.
Out of the three babies–Lexa, Samuel, and Mercy’s son, Reuben–I’ve noticed the boys tend to get more attention than Lexa. It’s not that she’s not loved and cherished by our pack, but the boys are just… easier to hold. Lexa is a brute, like her father. She’s big, strong, exceedingly heavy for an almost four-month-old, and tends to be a bit wiggling.
Even Freya’s arms flex as she readjusts Lexa on her shoulder, grunting a bit. “What are you feeding her, Aviva? I feel like she’s gained three pounds since I held her yesterday!”
“Just my milk.” I motion to my breasts with a sigh. “Blame Ryan. I do, every day. She’s already grown out of the clothes I made for her after she grew out of all the clothes Maddy brought when she visited earlier this summer.”
“Well, we’ll just have to make some more today, won’t we? Our little warrior princess.” She nuzzles Lexa’s cheek before turning to the gathering of women and looking for a lap that’s not occupied with a sleeping infant or toddler while I shrug out of the sling and move toward a loom on the far side of the room.
I never used to come to these things. Not until two weeks ago, when Ryan and I returned from the hunting trip where we ran into the hunters from Teshka. With the harvest season approaching, the fall hunts nearing, and the harvest festival on the horizon, our pack has an incredible amount of work to do.
But as it stands, my mate is on a long trip, making his way back from Teshka where he planned to meet the strange boy who was apparently swept in from the furthest reaches of the sea.
So, I’ve been milling about, helping where I can. I’m still getting used to this whole “Luna” thing, but I’ve never, and will likely never, consider myself a domestic goddess who finds fulfillment in staying at home.
I wanted to go with him.
It crushed me knowing I couldn’t. I just couldn’t imagine putting Lexa through that kind of journey, nor putting her in danger.
I knit a very terrible sweater for my daughter while she naps in one of my pack member’s arms, blissfully rocked into a deep sleep on the waves of conversation and the rhythmic scraping of the looms.
But I feel a tug deep in my chest that sets my body in a frenzy. I go completely still as the feeling washes over me like a wave before it settles. Then, I’m leaping up, walking steadily to the woman holding my sleeping daughter.
“Thank you for holding her,” I whisper, scooping Lexa into my arms.
I don’t bother with her sling. Her cheek rests against my shoulder while I walk as fast as my feet can carry me but not fast enough to jostle my daughter back into awareness.
I reach the road just as the sunlight highlights the figures moving through the woods–wolves. Wolves, and a few men, one of which belongs to me.
I bite back the desire to scream his name and fling myself into his arms. I can’t let him get a big head over the idea that I missed him this much. That I laid awake every night near to tears over the fact he wasn’t here, and I couldn’t sleep soundly without him. The last time we were separated like this was because of the war, but even then, we’d been able to travel together, to rest together more often than not.
Ryan comes into full view with the biggest grin on his face. He breaks into a run just as the wolves rush past me to their homes to greet their families.
“Ryan,” I whisper as he catches us in his arms, careful of the baby between us.
Lexa wakes with a whine, but calms when she senses Ryan’s presence, turning her head to look up at him.
He presses a kiss to my lips–long, and slow. He smells like the forest, like the rivers and creeks running through the Deadlands. He smells like home.
“I missed you,” he says into my hair, holding me close. “Goddess, Aviva. I missed you so much.”
“That was too long of a trip,” I say into his chest. Lexa coos her agreement, and he pulls away and runs his hand over her soft, golden-red curls that are just starting to come in.
“My girls,” he whispers, his eyes the deepest blue as he meets mine.
A few minutes later, we’re tucked inside our house. Ryan wears the sling this time with Lexa fast asleep against his chest as he unpacks his bag, setting a variety of weapons on the kitchen table. He pulls out a parcel wrapped in cloth, handing it to me.
“What’s this?” I ask, furrowing my brow.
“A gift,” he replies, watching as I carefully unfold the fabric.
I look down at the gold, turquoise, and salt-water pearl bangles, shocked. “Ryan–”
“You deserve them. You deserve more, Aviva,” he says with a heavy sigh, “for carrying our daughter for nine months, for going to war while you were pregnant and while ruling Silverhide in my stead but… I’m just an Alpha.”
“Just an Alpha,” I echo with a smirk, rolling the bangles onto my arms. They catch the faint sunlight coming through the windows as he steps toward me, brushing my hair out of my face.
“I thought they’d be perfect for you… and I also imagined you wearing them and nothing else, and I couldn’t think about leaving them behind in Teshka.”
I arch a brow as he steps closer, but we’re instantly reminded of the baby between us when she sighs loudly, nestling deeper against Ryan’s shirt.
“And also… because I’m leaving again soon.”
I frown. “No, you’re not–”
“But I’m taking you with me.”
A blast of relief echoes over my body, but I still narrow my eyes at my mate. “Where?”
“When I was in Endova, I was visited by my uncle, who is apparently on his way to meet the boy from the sea himself. It sounds like Ryatt plans to bring the boy to Moonrise, and he mentioned that he needed to speak to you, as well.”
“About what?”
Ryan shrugs. “He didn’t say, only that he required our presence. We’ll make a weekend out of it and….” He runs his fingers through his hair.
He seems stressed, which makes me feel uncertain, especially given the odd expression on his face. “What is it, Ryan?”
“I think Ryatt’s serious about making you a commander, Aviva.”
A rush of excitement blurs my senses, but my stomach hollows out, my feelings conflicting on a major level. We knew this was a possibility. It had been in the talks before the war–before there was even a threat of war.
But things are different now. We have a daughter. We have a thriving pack that’s getting bigger by the second.
Being a commander in Ryatt’s army could take me away from Silverhide… often.
“Do I have a choice?”
“Of course,” Ryan says, stepping toward me and bracing his hands on my upper arms. “We’re just going to go and hear him out. That’s all. Kenna and her kids will be there, too. She hasn’t seen Lexa since she was born.”
I smile softly. “It could be fun.”
“Just a weekend away, and then we’ll return here, and it’ll be business as usual. Oh, and, Misty and Cole are possibly moving here for the summer…. We need to prepare for that, too.” He turns from me, making a vocal checklist of all the things he needs to do before we leave for Moonrise tomorrow, and I watch him walk away with Lexa still sleeping soundly in her sling.
The rest of the day passes in quiet peace. Lexa is pretty easy for a baby. She’s happy and calm and has started being okay with being held by others and not just me. We have dinner in the pack house with everyone and return to our home after dark where we spend a good thirty minutes trying to get Lexa to sleep in her crib to no avail.
I lie snuggled next to Ryan with Lexa sprawled out between us. It’s a clear, calm night. The stars hang heavy in the sky. I’ve gotten used to peace. I haven’t seen those white wolves–those angels of the Goddess–in months.
So why do I have the feeling something is still amiss? That something is coming… and we have to stop it?
I slip out of bed, unable to fall back asleep, and walk out on the deck. It’s a warm night. Heavy clouds block the stars as I squint into the darkness. Sometimes, I wish I had powers like Sarah and Sydney. I’d be reading the stars all night, seeing and manipulating the future. I’d ensure nothing like the war ever happened again.
I turn to look over my shoulder through one of the windows into our living room where Ryan built a special hanger for my golden bow. It glints in the soft light of a lamp we left on, shimmering against the warm woods of the rest of the room.
I often wonder how the bow was made–who crafted it and gave it its magic.
And why.
And, lastly, why did it choose me?