Chapter 57
BIRTH.
CLEON.
It was time. I had been counting the days fearfully all the time, and it was finally time for my heart to ripped open in birth of pain. August’s stomach had grown massive and she was growing weaker as the time went by. It was a weekend, and the next week was the week of the sad expectancy. I cried when the midwife and the wolves who were to convey my wife August, came to the hospital to take her away. And I trailed her part until we got to the doorsteps of the house. I had never been so lost in my entire my entire years of existence.
JASON
As the time for August’s delivery approached, anxiety gnawed at my insides. I watched her growing weaker with each passing day, a mixture of excitement and dread coursing through me. I knew the birth would be a difficult ordeal, but nothing could have prepared me for what was about to unfold.
We accompanied August to the ornate chambers adorned with vibrant chrysanthemums. The air was thick with anticipation, and the weight of the moment hung heavy in the atmosphere. The midwife, a seasoned woman with gentle eyes, guided August with reassuring words and Gestures. She was trained specifically for this purpose and although she did not really do any midwifery, her job was to care and show love to the woman whose life was to be sacrificed for the betterment for the pack.
The midwife herself had to suppress a tremendous amount of fear to be able to be around the Orhert Carrier, it was a sacrifice on her path. Some midwives had been too slow, and they got torn apart after by the newly born and ravenous Orhert.
Amber and I stood by her side, as she was wheeled away to her chambers — The place on earth that she would be accustomed to. Cleon held August’s hand tightly, his heart pounding in sync with hers. They had been through so much together, and there had come a task they could not solve together. It was their big tragedy, and the tragedy of us all.
AMBER
The room filled with an air of both hope and trepidation as August prepared to give birth. The scent of the chrysanthemums permeated the space, their delicate petals contrasting with the gravity of the situation. I exchanged a glance with the midwife, silently sharing our mutual concern and love for our friend. August had requested that I remained a little more with her, and although my life was at risk, hers was the biggest sacrifice.
The midwife moved gracefully, her presence a mix of calm and reassurance. I could see the pain etched on August’s face as the labor pains intensified. Her hands tightened into small boulders, and I placed my hand on her shoulder, offering what little comfort I could.
Suddenly, the midwife’s demeanor changed. With a hasty and worried expression, she looked towards the door. “I must go now,” she said hurriedly, her voice laced with urgency. “I cannot stay here any longer.”
I was afraid, for her. Her body had swollen to and extent that her skin had begun to break, the orhert was trying to break free.
“You have to go now! Amber go!” August cried as blood trickled down her nostrils.
CLEON
The midwife’s sudden return startled me. My heart raced as fear crept into my thoughts. I knew what her return signified, but when I noticed that Amber had not returned, I knew that my wife was still alive, for a little while.
Even from a distance Ifelt my legs go weak as I felt August’s pain intensify. She cried out, her voice a mixture of agony and determination. After a while, Amber came running with a distraught look on her face, my chest pounded when Amber came in.
“Amber! How’s my August? How’s my August?” I whimpered, I clung unto false hopes that everything up to now was a lie or a bad prank, and that August was going to emerge from the chrysanthemum chambers with a healthy boy who would maybe grow up to be a farmer, a we would walk home hands in hands, she would lie down while I massaged her stomach with hot towels, hot towels not because she needed it (we had regeneration abilities) But because I would want to. I had planned a life where August and I would grow old and die under starlight with our fingers intertwined.
Without a second thought, I bolted out of the hospital room, I was going to save whatever remained of August, even if it meant stitching her back together piece by piece.
AUGUST:
I was expecting to find myself in a field of daisies, picking flowers for a garland, for my mother’s hair. I expected to find myself having lunch on the bare ground of clay with my seven siblings —we looked different in our human forms, but our wolf forms were identical, and I missed them. But instead of my most memories, a thousand of my blossomed love with Cleon, I found a chaotic darkness that so much resembled a hungry mouth agape.
A primal, bone-chilling roar filled the air, and I could sense the chaos unfolding around me. I gasped as a searing pain tore through my being, and in that moment, I knew. It was time to let everything go. No, there were no choices to be made or boxes to be checked, I was a breathing tragedy from the very beginning, everything was taken away.
Everything became a blur as the creature unleashed its wrath upon me. I felt myself being torn apart, my screams merging with the cries of the hungry Orhert. Darkness closed in, and my last consciousness, went out like a candle frame pinched by a mischievous child.
JASON
Horror consumed me as I rushed back into the chambers, finding August’s lifeless body torn to pieces. Grief crashed over me like a tidal wave, threatening to drown me in despair. The pack gathered around, their mournful howls filling the air.
But amidst our collective sorrow, we noticed Cleon’s absence. Fear mingled with grief as we realized he had disappeared. With heavy hearts and a renewed sense of purpose, we set out to search for our grief-stricken friend, hoping to find him before the darkness claimed him too.
Together, we ventured into the unknown, driven by love and determination. The shadows loomed around us, a constant reminder of the dangers we faced. But we pressed on, unwilling to let grief and despair consume us entirely, holding onto the hope that Cleon could still be found, and that somehow, we could find solace in the face of unimaginable loss.