Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
To their whole world.
Not even the noise of the crowd makes our sweet girl blink awake. So little bothers her if she’s fed, dry, and in one of our arms. There’s nothing I like more than watching Bothaki rock her to sleep and despite the cradle in our room that he also made, I can’t bear the thought of her sleeping anywhere but between the two of us. I never imagined a reality where I would be so blessed. I didn’t think days spent loving and learning and being would be as perfect and amazing as they are.
I didn’t think I could love Bothaki more.
Yet, I do.
Seeing him love our child, I do.
“I still think the women on Earth would benefit from seeing me, too. Hearing me,” I clarify.
Vabila sighs. “You’re right, they would.”
“But neither you, nor our child, will be leaving this planet for a while,” Bothaki says at my side. He nods at our baby. “We have a duty here for her, too. Mother and Vabila will have to do to convince the human females that Hallalah is the best place for them to continue to thrive and find happiness.”
The second roar of the crowd and the movement of the Head Mina, our daughter’s great-grandmother, gesturing for Bothaki to bring our baby forward reminds me that this isn’t exactly the time or place for this conversation, but the lights in the distance at the ship port tells me that there won’t be a better one for it. After the crista ceremony to welcome our daughter and have the Mina read her fate as she’s properly named, we might have time for a hug before Jozay and Vabila say goodbye.
Nowas wears a somber expression while he stands side by side with his mate, watching Bothaki cradle our newborn as she slips from my breast. His face tells me that I am not the only one with reservations about what will soon happen. He does put on a smile when Bothaki lifts our daughter high to show the gathered crowd, and I swear I feel the joy and pride vibrate from them down below to us on the stairs. In nothing but the cloth diaper her aunt changed her into during our earlier celebratory meal, my baby wiggles a bit.
Vabila helps me to readjust my dress back over my shoulder before she redoes the rope of jewels and stones under my breasts, braiding it into the ties of the dress itself. We turn back to Bothaki and the baby, and the now chanting crowd in just enough time to see my daughter open her eyes to greet the Hallans who love and adore her already.
Sleepy-eyed, pink-cheeked, and just strong enough to lift her head, she lets out a squall. A happy one that widens her big, beautiful eyes, makes her father smile even wider with pride, and the crowd’s chants of Hallalah comes with the slam of feet and staff against the very ground our daughter will soon be buried in.
“Hallalah!” cries the people.
“Don’t worry or be sad about us leaving,” Vabila says as she links our arms and I let the Hallan’s welcome of my daughter wash over me. “You’re needed here now, you see.”
I do.
Vabila doesn’t need me to say it.
Suddenly, the chant changes.
“Name her, name her, name her!”
At Vabila’s urging and Bothaki’s reaching hand, I join his side and take our newborn back. I resist the urge to give her the breast even as she ruts again as soon as she’s in my arms. Because I know I will just get her feeding only to have to take her off again.
Instead, I distract her with the tip of my finger to suck on as I follow behind Sinad and Bo’s parents. His arm snakes around my side to pull us closer to him, and his lips brush the crown of my head, smiling as he lingers there.
“Do you think they’ll like her name?” he asks me.
Behind us, Vabila snickers. “You know they will.”
I’m too overwhelmed by the parting crowd that leads us all the way to the tallest tree in the lands to add my own two cents. With twisting bark swirling up the trunk of the tree and roots knotting above and underground, the stakes of fire create an altar-like experience as we approach the patch of freshly dug, rich earth waiting for our baby girl. Long, ropey branches, thick with green foliage, reach down to the ground like hands ready to hold and greet my child like everything and everyone else in this world has.
Happily. Gratefully.
As if she is the gift.
Because we all know she is.
“Come,” Sinad tells me. Bo’s grandmother came the night our daughter was born with oils to bless her mark and welcome the newest Mina for her to help raise up and train. “Let us see who she shall be.”