A woman screams.
The sound cuts through the nocturnal hum of night, echoing through the trees. The roaring fire next to the woman sparks and spits, as if pleased by her pain. The woman braces herself on her forearms, knees bent, legs parted. Her face is drenched with sweat, her blonde hair matted and dirty. She pants, struggling to breathe, gritting her teeth so hard it’s a wonder they don’t crack in her mouth.
“GET OUT YAH LITTLE SHITE! GET OUT!” She roars, and screams again, pushing for the last time. There’s a sound, a squelch, and the fire grows higher, much higher than it should if it was natural. A celebration perhaps of what occurred. The woman falls back exhausted.The hum of night returning. After a moment she realizes there should be another sound. Concern wells up inside her and she forces herself up quickly looking down at the mess between her legs.
There is the babe. Covered in all sorts of gook, but a pair of hazel eyes stared up at her perhaps in curiosity. The tiny form trembled, but did not make a sound, as if the babe knew she dare not call out into the night, for then It would know she was ready to be taken.
The woman sighed in relief. Her concern was not motherly. This was not her child. She’d made peace with that. This was an offering. Payment for a deal made.
The woman took another moment to rest. Eventually she pulled forth the knife and cut the cord. She’d brought a bag with a few things, and she cleaned herself up first. After that was done, she tended to the babe, which amounted to wrapping the newborn in a clean blanket, and putting it back on the ground.
“I doubt he’ll keep yah waitin’ for long.” The woman paused, looking down at the babe that still had not cried. “Cait. I spose if I was gonna keep yah I’d have named yah Cait.” She reached into her bag again, pulling forth an envelope. She pulled out a pencil and scribbled the name on the front, then tucked tucked into the blanket with the babe. The woman shrugged. “Sorry.” It was the final thing the said to her daughter before she turned around and walked off.
Cait had yet to cry. She made a few gurgling noises but was otherwise quiet. She stared into the sky, the reflection of the full moon in her eyes. Eyes that shifted, more like that of a wolves for a moment. Eyes that shifted again, an unnatural fire in their depths. The flames of the bonfire grew higher still and suddenly the forest unnaturally quiet.
Cait’s face twisted. The telltale sign a cry was forthcoming, as if she sensed what had made the forest go silent, but before that cry cut loose –
Shhh.
Another being moved into Cait’s sight. With care and quickness the Fae gathered forth the newborn babe into it’s arms.
You will never forget this. Tonight I will save you from him, little one. For that you will owe the fae a boon.
Scenery changed. Things a newborn would not remember. The only thing of importance the deal that was made, one a babe could not consent too but was perhaps grateful for on a level they could not understand nonetheless.
The being set the newborn carefully down on the front porch steps.
You may cry now, little one.
The fae disappeared. Cait wiggled around in her blanket and for the first time, opened her mouth and wailed.
In the distance, a pack of wolves howled.