Chapter 70 Oh Moon Goddess
The daily grind of the pack had settled into a chaotic but happy rhythm. The Blackwood estate was no longer just a fortress; it was a home, loud with the sounds of a growing family.
Caspian and Briar were ten months old now, and they were, in a word, relentless. They were crawling with speed that defied physics, pulling up on furniture, and babbling in a twin language that only they understood.
The Exhausted Teacher
The kitchen door swung open, bringing a gust of fresh, earthy air into the warmth of the house. Leela stumbled in, pulling off her muddy boots by the door. She had spent the last four hours in the lower valley with a delegation from the Stone River Pack, teaching them how to coax the dormant nitrogen back into their soil.
She looked like she had wrestled a bear and lost. Her braid was coming undone, there was a smudge of loam on her cheek, and the dark circles under her eyes were prominent against her pale skin.
Ginny, who was currently five months pregnant and sporting a perfectly round, adorable bump under her apron, turned from the granite island. The kitchen smelled like cinnamon, nutmeg, and impending heartburn.
"You look like death warmed over, Lee," Ginny observed bluntly, wiping flour from her hands. "Seriously. You’re pushing yourself too hard. The land will still be there tomorrow; you don't have to heal the whole continent in one afternoon."
Leela groaned, shuffling toward the fridge to grab a pitcher of water. She didn't even bother with a glass; she just tipped the pitcher back and drank.
"I'm fine," Leela gasped, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "I just need hydration. It’s the twins, Gin. They hit a growth spurt or something. They were up three times last night, and they are draining me dry. I swear, they are eating like little wolves already."
She leaned against the counter, closing her eyes for a second as the room spun slightly. "I think they’re feeding too often. I have to start them on some heavy grains. Rice cereal. Oatmeal. Something that sits in their stomach longer than milk so I can sleep for more than two hours."
The Muffin Incident
"Sounds like a plan," Ginny agreed, turning back to her mixing bowl. She was making her famous bran muffins—mostly because she had been craving fiber like it was a controlled substance. "Elana said she’d watch them for an hour so you could nap, but you decided to go play in the dirt instead."
"It's not playing, it's—" Leela started, but stopped as a wave of nausea rolled over her. She swallowed hard, blaming the dehydration.
"Yeah, yeah, it's communion," Ginny teased. She reached for the carton of eggs on the counter. "Hand me the vanilla, will you?"
Leela reached for the small bottle, but her hand paused.
Ginny didn't notice. She picked up a large brown egg and cracked it expertly against the rim of the ceramic bowl. She pulled the shell apart.
Schloooop.
Leela watched the raw egg slide out. She saw the clear, viscous slime trail into the batter. She saw the yellow yolk wobble and break, oozing into the flour. The smell—usually undetectable—suddenly hit her like a wall of sulfur and wet dog.
The Realization
Leela didn't even speak. She clamped her hand over her mouth, her eyes bulging.
"Leela?" Ginny asked, pausing with the whisk in mid-air.
Leela bolted. She scrambled across the kitchen, shoved the pedal of the stainless steel trash can, and violently retched into the garbage.
The room went dead silent, save for the sound of Leela heaving and the hum of the refrigerator.
Ginny stood frozen, the whisk dripping batter onto the counter. She looked at her best friend, who was currently clutching the trash bag like a lifeline. She looked at the egg. She looked back at Leela, doing the mental math.
Ten-month-old twins. A "growth spurt." Exhaustion that water wasn't fixing. The smell of a raw egg triggering a biological evacuation.
Ginny’s eyes went wide, her hand drifting to her own baby bump in sympathy.
"Oh, Moon Goddess," Ginny whispered, the spatula dropping from her hand with a clatter. "You have got to be kidding me."