LeVane continued to walk down the shadowy path through the village. The large gates leading to the white beaches were now closed, a solid reminder of the night and the cautiousness that must be taken with what comes with the dark. Eerie wind flowed across the panes of the dark houses, letting out a small whistle. Most of the villagers had their candles out, and were soundly in bed. The Stone Tree cutters and their families were the only usual ones up at the ninth hour.
The town was usually a whirlwind of activity and color, window panes bright with flowery or biblical scenes, sweet breads smells wafting from the bakery windows, and church bells ringing high in their spires. But with the night even the fountain splashing of water seemed like an odd sound amongst the quiet.
LeVane made his way up the sloped path of the village, upwards towards where his house stood overlooking most of the village, outways off to the side on top of a flat rock and encompassed by trees. The babe made mewling sounds of hunger, and LeVane hastened his pace so she could be fed soon. The light of his house was welcoming at the top of the slope. The LeVane house was not the largest of houses. It was one floor with three rooms and a loft that covered half the top of the ceiling. Their roofing was flat, old but made of solid Mettle Wood, and a large chimney stood billowing smoke towards the back of the house. His wife was sure to be up and waiting with leftovers, and the children more than likely asleep to rise early for church.
Reaching the front step of his house, LeVane paused and took a breath, resting one of his hands on a pillared archway. What would his wife think? LeVane knew this baby was going to stir up trouble with the church, and yet... LeVane looked: The babe was peering up at him with reflective and reassured eyes, and she squirmed in his arms in the rough knapsack. There was no other thoughts in his mind. LeVane's hands felt along the front wooden pillars of their house where there was an intricate pattern crafted as a wedding present to welcome them into their new home, as was tradition. Faith ... It was if the wind had spoken and it gave a shiver down LeVane's spine. With a determined hand LeVane pulled open the heavy front door.
Kreta was sitting next to the fireplace, her brown hair neatly braided and eyes tired. Lately all she felt was tired. Her stomach was still swollen from birth, and slowly shrinking, and her breasts were full and leaking with discomfort. She stirred the pot of the stew slowly, waiting patiently for her husband to come home. The clock was fifteen past the ninth and she began to grow worried. She pulled the pot away from the fire and reached for her worn chore cloak. Kreta had intended to go to up into the loft to fetch her eldest son, Nolan, to send him out to Master Tollick to inquire where LeVane was, but no sooner than she had been one foot up the ladder, the front door sprang open.
Not a moment later Kreta spotted the mewling, squirming thing in LeVane's arms, and she locked her eyes with his blue ones.
"Andul..." Kreta could scarcely breathe with surprise.
"Kreta, I found her... Look."
LeVane beckoned his wife over and she obeyed with an expressionless face. Kreta laid her eyes upon the child, this perfect child. Without a word Kreta held out her arms and took the naked babe from the knapsack, cradling her instinctively against her breast. LeVane brushed his hand against his wife's cheek, watching quietly as she had tears well into her eyes. Knowingly LeVane took off his cloak and lead his wife to take a seat by the fire. Slowly he then lifted his hands and untied the top of her nightgown to let out a leaking breast. The babe had no trouble finding the source of milk and began to suck hungrily and eagerly, letting a small kick fly into the air.
"Andul, she's beautiful..." Kreta said in wonderment as she held the naked babe. Her tears were happy ones, and she felt instant relief as the babe suckled her aching breast. "Where-- what is her name?" she asked in a whisper. She didn't want the boys to wake and fuss with the baby, so she and her husband talked quietly. LeVane served himself the stew from the pot and sat down on the bench to eat. Through his long beard was a bright smile, and even he had some tears in his eyes.
"Mira is what I call her, my love" he answered. He finished his stew and stood over her to give her a kiss on the cheek.
Kreta moved the babe to her other breast and relaxed in her chair in relief. The babe's skin was soft, smooth and milky in color, with wavy hair as black as the deepest depth of the sea, lips as red as the coral along the rock faces, and the most mysterious colored eyes she had ever seen. Where had he found this creature? Who would throw away such a beautiful little thing?
That is when it occurred to Kreta where this babe had come from: the sea.
Kreta stiffened. "Andul, the church won't like it," she said. A frown lined her face and there was a crease of worry lining her brow.
"They don't have too. Mira is ours now," LeVane responded. LeVane had his wife stand and guided her to the front porch of the house. "Look up," he said. "What do you see?"
Kreta was breathless. The Star of Fortune was bright and clear. LeVane and Kreta would know the truth, but the church would not have witnessed it. It was going to be hard.
"Oh Andul, they will never accept her. What are we going to do?" she asked. Her eyes were soft with sympathy for the poor babe.
"She has us, and that is enough, dear wife," LeVane said with finality.
They both gazed at the now sleeping babe cradled safely in their care. Mira would be taken care of and she was here to stay.
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