Morel took the screaming infant, holding it against her chest “My sweet baby, Vith,” she said softly, a tired smile on her face.

  Gaius smiled, once again taking her hand in his “She’s beautiful” he said, placing a kiss on Morel’s brow as she held the child to her skin. He remained standing, awe-full, watching over as Morel closed her eyes and the baby snuggled into her mother’s arms, her cries falling away.

  Wearily he turned to the healer “Was there any trouble?”

  Smiling, if exhausted, Cole shook his head “It went well. Morel and little Vith should be fine.”

  Gaius let out a long sigh. “Thank you” he said, trying to put every bit of his overwhelming sincerity into the words.

  “Just doing my job,” hummed the healer as he finished cleansing the room “Now, if you all would come with me.”

  Gently lifting his wife into his arms Gaius followed Cole out of the halls of healing. He almost stopped in place, staring at the sunlit garden between the gaps in the colonnade, at full green leaves hanging lazily in the summer sun. He felt like he had after his first battle, surprised to find the world still right side up.

  Cole led them to a resting room, just before the entrance of the temple where a bronze statue of Yang looked out across the city, face serene.

  The room was the only one in the temple that wasn’t completely illuminated and both new parents were too tired to care about the tiny beams of light that crisscrossed the room. Gaius set the pair in his arms down, easing them into one of the cots that lined the room before sliding another next to them and collapsing into it.

  ***

  5 years later.

  Dad dropped a generous pinch of salt into the pot as oats rolled in the roiling broth before he slid the pot to the edge of the iron ring that sat around the hearth.

  Vi blearily watched as her father worked content to sit by the hearth that dominated the small kitchen, luxuriating in its warmth.

  “When’s breakfast?” called Mom through doorway to the living room, “We need to be there by dawn.”

  “Almost ready, hon,” Dad called as he set about thinly slicing a handful of radishes.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Vi yawned and stretched luxuriously into the wooden rocking chair that sat next to the hearth. Settling in, she closed her eyes as the chair gently rocked back and forth. A hefty thump jerked her head up, blinking rapidly.

  Mom stepped away from two great packs, taking a seat at the small table that sat along the wall, she was in full armor. A breastplate and leathers, her helm and mottled cloak on top of her pack.

  Dad walked over with the pot and three bowls, but Vi only had eyes for the armor. How the iron gleamed in the flickering candlelight.

  “Vi, grab a seat,” said Dad as he spooned the porridge into their bowls. Mom had already started.

  Unsteady on the shifting chair Vi reached down, meeting the ground and crawling off. She hopped to her feet, when, with a slight creak, the chair that had leaned forward to let her off and then teetered backwards now rushed forward. One of the armrests caught her in the back, sending her sprawling onto the red stone floor with a wail. Her hands burned as she hit the ground, and she let out a loud cry, her vision blurring.

  “Dammit, get your armor on, I’ll deal with this,” said Morel, spooning a last bite of porridge into her mouth before flashing to Vi’s side who had managed to roll over and was now staring at her scraped hands wailing.

  Gently Morel sat her daughter up, propping Vi against the kitchen island “It’s okay,” she cooed, gently taking the tiny hands in her own and pressing them against her lips. “It’s just a scratch, I know it hurts, just try to take a deep breath, just for me.”

  Somewhere between the blubbering and hiccupping inhales Vi wrapped her arms around Mom’s left arm while she rubbed Vi’s back comfortingly.”

  After a couple minutes Mom scooped her up, still clinging to the arm, and deposited her in a chair before a steaming bowl of oatmeal “Eat up darling.”

  Letting go of Mom’s arm, and eventually scooping the savory porridge into her mouth, Vi focused on her mom, incident forgotten “Mom, where are you two going?”

  Mom, who had taken what was left of Dad’s oatmeal paused and swallowed “It’s just a routine patrol, nothing to worry about,” said Mom, dismissively waving her spoon.

  Vi looked for a moment at the iron breastplate, and a small pit of doubt yawned in her stomach. She didn’t know how she knew, but if it was only a little different, she was sure it would offer better protection. “But- but why do you have to go?”

  “It’s just a week, kiddo,” Mom’s smile dipped for a second “The last troop is just a little late and the Lord is sending us to check on them.”

  “But you’re not rangers anymore, he can’t make you do it.”

  Mom chewed for a moment; Vi wondered what there was to chew. “We know the terrain, there’s no one better.”

  Dad walked into the room, hood down, and helm in hand. He easily shouldered one of the packs, put out the hearth, and set the dishes in a pile by the basin. Vi marveled at how fast her parents could move when they wanted to.

  She walked with them through their small house and onto the balcony. Under the veranda Mom kneeled to meet her gaze “Annaly will be over soon to come and get, until then don’t start a fire and don’t touch the knives,” After Vi nodded thrice Mom nodded and stood.

  Dad put a hand on her shoulder “Do what Mom said and listen to Annaly. We’ll be back before you know it,” he smiled, a softness in his green eyes.

  Vi watched them go; Watched as they filtered through the rivermen who carried their nets and poles toward the Saltwash. Watched them disappear toward the city's great grey-red walls. And beneath the cloudy sky, the morning air chilled her bones.