The Sapphire Legend Part 1 by E. L. Tenenbaum

Author:E. L. Tenenbaum
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: teen fantasy adventure, dystopian fantasy, fantasy and magic, teen fantasy coming of age, fantasy about a girl, adventure fantasy magic, adventure survival, fantasy survival, fantasy village, fantasy wars

Chapter Thirteen

As we exit the Wild, a frantic Rubee rushes over to me. Instinctively, my hand wraps around a knife on my belt.

“I’ve been looking all over for you!” she exclaims. She does look like she’s been all over the camp. Her cheeks are flushed red enough to match the stone from which she gets her name.

I swallow hard, “What happened?”

“It’s your sister, Onyx...the baby’s coming!”

I’m not certain I heard right. I only move because Rubee grabs my hand and pulls me forward.

“Come on!”

My senses take hold of me once more, and I hurry after her, running as fast as I dare to the women’s shelter.

There was no way Onyx could have the baby in the healer’s shelter with the sick and injured there, so we empty our shelter for her. A small group of women anxiously wait a few paces away, trying to talk about small things to distract themselves from what’s going on inside.

I fidget nervously, listening intently to Onyx’s harsh breathing and Emaryld’s soothing voice inside. Emaryld keeps her voice low. At least she sounds sure of what she’s doing.

After a few short minutes that feel many times longer, I can’t stand it anymore. Emaryld’s voice. Onyx’s cries. I clamp my hands over my ears but soon free them again because I need to know what’s going on more than I don’t want to hear. Childbirth is an extremely dangerous time for mother and baby, so much so that children aren’t named until they are at least three days old. Names are a way of identifying one person to another; there’s no point in naming a baby that won’t live. I try not to think of that as I clearly detect Onyx’s breathing growing more frantic.

Finally, the cries of a newborn burst through the air. The huddle of women around me simultaneously laughs and cries, clearly overwhelmed with emotion. It’s a bittersweet time for us, welcoming the first new life into our camp, a camp made because of the death of so many.

Rubee appears at the entrance to the shelter and beckons me inside. I tiptoe over to my tired sister whose new child sleeps curled up on her chest. Her hair is sticky with sweat and matted against her forehead. I reach for her hand, and she smiles at me, almost causing me to fall apart in the tears I always push away. I can see her blink back tears from her eyes.

“Boy,” she mouths at me before leaning back and closing her eyes.

I hold her hand until I’m sure she’s sleeping, then I slip out of the shelter and look for Emaryld. When I entered the shelter, she left to refill the one pot we have with water. I trace her footsteps, wanting to thank her for what she’s done. Also, though it wasn’t as stomach-churning as an amputation, I want to make sure she’s okay.

I catch up to her by the riverbank, where she slowly rinses her hands in no apparent hurry to get back to the shelter.

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