Who

Echo, Milosh, Tallel, Greer (NPC midwife)

What

Echo and Milosh welcome the arrival of their first child.
Backdated about 2 IC months

Childbirth

When

It is sunrise of the twenty-seventh day of the second month of the fourteenth turn of the 12th pass.

Where

Milosh and Echo’s Yurt, Caravan Grounds, Igen Weyr

OOC Date 27 Jun 2018 04:00

 

Echo5.jpgmilosh_new2.jpgtallel_default.jpg

“Milosh love, I think it might be starting.”



Milosh and Echo’s Yurt

It's a large yurt that's been granted Milosh and Echo, but when you have a growing family, that's to be expected. The back of the yurt is dominated by Milosh and Echo's bed and the cradle sent for their child by Echo's parents. There's a couple of standing armoires and more than a few locked trunks. There's a low table for work and meals, and a large cooking and heating brazier, which often burns incenses of floral and earthy scents, depending on who's home. There's a large shelf that hosts liquor at the top and the couple's baubles on the bottom. The entire thing is a riot of Zingari color and flare.


Sunrise is just lighting the horizon when Echo stirs in the bed she shares with her husband, a frown creasing her brow as she shifts to settle more comfortably against the myriad of cushions she has stuffed around her gravid body to support it in her sleep. But the sharp pain that shoots through her midsection quickly makes that impossible. Biting down on her lower lip to keep from crying out, the herder hisses through the pain, one hand slipping over the bulge of her belly, feeling how rigid it is as she counts softly and breathes through the pain until it passes. She’d been experiencing practice pains, as her midwife calls them, for several sevendays now so she doesn’t immediately panic.

Slipping out of bed as quietly as she can, which is a feat in her current condition, Echo gets to her feet and starts to slowly walk the floor of their yurt, breathing deeply as she’s been told, she moves over to the candle with the marks along it to track the time. Lighting it, she keeps an eye on the melting wax while she does lazy circuits, both hands supporting her lower back as she waddles slowly. After about a quarter mark, she is gripped by another pain, lips moving as she counts through gritted teeth as she grips the back of a chair for support. When it finally passes, she can relax and breath deeply again, her brown eyes once more flicking to the timepiece. She wants to make sure this is the real thing before she wakes her husband, she doesn’t want to ruin his sleep with a false alarm.

Milosh is well adjusted to Echo leaving the bed several times a night at this point and barely stirs when she gets up, moving only to throw an arm over his eyes before the sounds of sleep emit from him again. It's when his subconscious side realizes Echo doesn't return to the bed that he starts rousing, tossing a bit in the bed as he starts to come to wakefulness, hand idly reaching out to Echo’s side of the bed and finding it empty.

On her next circuit, Echo’s gaze is drawn to her tossing husband in the bed, eyes narrowing as she considers how he might react if this is really happening. Flicking her warm eyes back to the candle, it hasn't quite gotten to the next quarter-mark when she's gripped with the most powerful of the pains yet, a sharp gasp escaping before she can clamp down her lips against it. Curling onto herself, hands fanned out over her tense belly as her face twists silently with the sharp pain that feels like it's cutting through her like a knife. Finally she remembers to breathe through it instead of holding her breath as she is once more released from its grip. Feeling a flutter of panic at the intensity of that last one, the herder girl is going to risk waking her husband needlessly, although on some unconscious level, she has a feeling these aren't for practice anymore. Shuffling back towards the bed, she calls out softly, “Milosh love, I think it might be starting.” She says just before another contraction grips her, forcing her to lean on the bed for support as she grits her teeth and tucks her head to her chest until it too passes.

That sharp gasp has the instinctual side of Milosh stirring, his subconscious more aware now that it’s realised he’s in bed alone, so the by the time Echo tries to wake him, the spy adept is already there, sitting up sleepily, but coming to full awareness the moment Echo speaks. A brief flash of panic does cross his eyes before he slips from the bed to gently lay a hand on Echo’s back, rubbing until the contraction passes. “Do you want me to get Greer?” He asks, raising a brow. He might go get her anyway, but MIlosh knows he can’t make this about his worries, this is ALL about Echo. “Do you want anything, some water maybe?” And it’s early, this part at least Milosh knows is natural.

The feeling of his hand rubbing her back until the contraction once more releases her, comforts Echo like nothing else. Considering his words, she finally stands back up with a deep exhale of breath. “They are coming less than a quarter mark apart, and last till a count of forty. Walking doesn't seem to be making them go away like the practice ones,” she relays practically as she takes up her walking again, feeling like she can't stand idle at the moment. When he mentions water, she nods appreciatively, “Yes please,” she replies as she concentrates on taking deep breaths while waddling around the yurt, remembering that Greer also suggesting contractions could be brought on by dehydration so she figures it's worth a try. When she feels her midsection tighten with the next one, she stops to rub her belly soothingly as she grunts through the pain, eyes pinched closed.

Milosh is quick to retrieve the water, coming back to Echo’s side near as quick as he can. “Here…” Nerves tingle and tighten under his skin as he holds himself back from the panic he feels steadily rising. Taking a breath when he notes the pinched look on his wife’s face, he makes a decision. “I’m going to go get Greer, sip this, and please don’t overdo it with the walking…” He places a kiss on her temple and slips out of the yurt to go fetch the midwife, leaving his gold in his stead to keep an eye on things.

It’s not easy, moving himself away from his wife and the trip to Greer’s wagon seems to take forever. However, when he gets there and raps on the door, it takes the woman only a second to figure things out, just by the look on Milo’s face. She’s out the door in a quickly fashion and is about ten steps ahead of the daddy to be by the time she reaches the yurt.

Taking the glass thankfully once the most recent pain passes, she is about to protest that they shouldn’t be needlessly waking the midwife just yet. But she just takes her husbands comforting kiss and then watches him leave, deciding that maybe having a professional there to tell him there’s nothing to worry about would help with his nerves. Probably not, but a girl can always hope right? Taking the glass in her hands, she waddles over to the bed where she can prop herself up against it much easier than sitting down in a chair. Sipping quietly at her glass, she watches the candle burn down towards the next quartermark. A lot sooner than anticipated, she feels the onset of the next contraction, and it’s all she can do not to spill the remainder of the water while she waits for it to pass, softly panting.

When Greer arrives, she is just relaxing again from the most recent pain and smiles weakly at the healer. “I really hope Milosh didn’t go get you prematurely, but they’ve been coming regularly for a bit over a candlemark now. I’ve tried walking and drinking water and they aren’t stopping,” Echo effectively fills the woman in as she can’t sit still anymore and has to start her slow circuits again.

The midwife seems pleased with her answers as she finds a place to put down her things, “So you’re waters haven’t broken then? How about you get onto the bed and I can check you,” she offers with a smile as she looks over at Milosh, “I could use some water boiling,” she suggests gently as she continues to lay out her things while Echo climbs back onto the bed, arranging the pillows behind her to prop her up.

Milosh will walk in after the midwife, looking a bit more assured than when he left. “Early or no wife, safety first.” Milosh’s voice is a low rumble, a slight mimicry of his commanding tone. He’ll not have arguments about this. However, he won’t be overly dickish about it either. He’ll move to the side for a slight drink to settle the nerves. At the request from the midwife, he’s moving, soon returning with two pots full of water to heat on the large brazier in the center of their yurt. See, he can be helpful.

“Of course love,” Echo placates her husband soothingly as she settles back onto the pillows and tucks her knees up, knowing the drill after almost nine months of similar examination. Greer smiles gently in Milosh’s direction, “True, always better to be safe than sorry,” she pipes up, “Especially with first time mums, it’s hard to knows how things will go. After disinfecting her hands with a mild solution of redwort, she perches on the edge of the bed and pulls back Echo’s nightie just enough to get access.

“Well, you were right to fetch me, it looks like you’re on your way, though still very early progress,” she says as she smoothes the night dress back down and goes to wash her hands in the basin. “Was the walking feeling alright for you? I’ve found some women feel it helps with their pains at the beginning and it might just break your waters too, which should speed things up a bit.”

Echo shifts back up onto the pillows and is just about to answer as she feels the ramp up to the next one and she groans loudly as she curls herself around the contracting belly, hissing out breaths until it finally passes, “Yes, I think I prefer to be up and walking,” she says as she scoots to the edge of the bed before standing up again, just taking a moment to catch her breath.

Milosh stands respectfully to the side, so that Greer can examine Echo with some dignity. Milosh shouldn't look there anyway, not in this context. He instead moves to Echo's side and is there to assist her in getting up when she wants to walk. He looks a bit tense at the idea of speeding things up and makes a funny kind of noise at the notion. Shouldn't things progress as nature intended them? But what does he know of such things? He'd been a wreck for Elena's labor too. He walks with Echo, and in an uncharacteristic display of public affection, slips his hand into hers, gripping her firmly. He's doing OK so far, but touching her hand helps. “How do you feel?” Besides the obvious that is, Milosh wants to support Echo if he can.

Echo hears that derisive sound and gives Milosh a sidelong look, wondering what he’s keeping to himself, but then she’s pleasantly surprised when he slips his hand in hers, and she lets herself lean on him just a little as they continue their slow circuit while the midwife strips and prepares the bed. Then he asks his question and the herder woman has to take a moment to really consider her answer. “I don’t know to be honest. The pain isn’t too bad but I’m sure that’s going to change. I just feel kinda calm, at peace…and ready to meet our baby,” she manages a warm smile for her husband before another pain grips her and, since it’s conveniently right there, she grips hard onto his hand. Her other hand grips at his shoulder as she leans on him while hissing loudly through the contraction, forehead resting on his arm. When once again it passes, that one was the longest one yet, Echo manages a weak chuckle, “Oh dear, maybe I spoke a little too soon.” At least she hasn’t lost her sense of humour yet.

Milosh definitely seems appreciative of Echo's honesty, and he spends the next long while pacing with her and being her rock when a contraction rocks her. He can't help looking a hit over worried when pain grips his wife, but he seems to keep it together pretty well. Not that the real show has started yet. He'll help the midwife too, when requested, but as soon as he's done he's back by Echo's side, hand in hers.

Unfortunately for the first time mother, eight whole candlemarks pass without any real progress at all. It’s been a monotonous cycle of walking until she was too exhausted to anymore, sleep herself out for a couple of hours and then start the whole thing over again. Greer seemed mostly unperturbed, which in turn reassured Echo who was trying her best to put on a brave face for her nervous husband, but her energy was waning, the disappointment of being told again that she is still barely dilated weighing on her heavily as she falls back against the pillow with a significant sigh, it’s now well into the early evening.

“Would you like some tea or maybe something to eat? You need to keep up your energy for when it’s time to push. And sometimes these things come on very suddenly, so it’s best to be prepared,” Greer comments before she looks over at Milosh with a warm smile, “What about our daddy? How’s he doing?” she asks in a soothing voice, having been made aware of the expectant father’s nervous disposition. For her part, Echo just waves her hand in the direction of the midwife and turns her head to the side in the pillow, her auburn hair that now sweeps past her shoulders, conceals her face. She’s trying to be as quiet as possible, but finally a soft sniffle betrays the fact that she’s crying.

Milosh is nearing his own fraying point after eight candlemarks. His worry shows more now, his hair ruffled from both sleep and running his hands through it incessantly. Milosh urges Echo to eat or drink something right along with the midwife, taking one of Echo's hands and kissing her knuckles. “Come now woman mine, do I need to order you to eat?” There's an edge of command to his voice already, but it's also got a joking/teasing tone to it. That is until Milosh hears that little sniffle and it makes his heart ache. “Echo…” There's both concern and a little true command to his vice now as he reaches over to free her face of hair. “Love, come now, you're doing wonderfully…is there anything we can do for her?” He growls at Greer, not threateningly, he just can't stand to see Echo cry, he never has been able to.

It’s not hard for Milosh to get through to Echo when he uses that tone with her, and indeed she turns her head back on the pillow, her eyes just a little red from the crying, wet trails down her cheeks. But she rallies and puts on a weak smile for her husband and just shakes her head, “Stupid crying jags, can’t even let up for labor,” she says with a playful roll of her eyes. Reaching out, she takes his hand in hers and gives him a reassuring squeeze, “And I’m glad you think so, because I don’t think little one is very impressed with my efforts so far,” the herder slips into a little self-pity with a soft sigh.

Greer just watches the pair with a patient eye, not looking too alarmed at Echo’s reaction, having seen it all in her turns. Her serene smile turns to Milosh when he addresses her, not even bothering to react to the growl, having also seen all the varieties of expectant fathers in her time. “Well, at this point, my suggestion would be to break your waters,” Greer suggests as she talks directly to Echo, “It doesn’t hurt and in cases like yours where we haven’t seen any progress in so long, it can bring on stronger contractions, which you need to get things moving along.” Looking then from Echo to Milosh, she gives him a supportive smile, “I’m not worried, sometimes things just need a little push.” She’ll wait patiently until they reach a decision.

Milosh can't help but look a little uncomfortable when he hears the phrase ‘break your waters'. It makes him a little nervous actually, but he tries not to let it show. The midwife doesn't seem worried so he shouldn't either, right? “What would you like to do love?” All pretenses, ego and command are out of his tone now and what is left is an earnest yearning for what Echo wants in this moment.

Echo’s eyes are trained on Milosh as Greer makes her recommendations and she notices the look of discomfort on his face. The hand that is still clasped in his gives him another reassuring squeeze, “I think Greer knows her craft and if this is what she recommends, then I think that’s what we should do.” With that being said though, the herder looks at her husband with all the warmth and love she can manage, “But I don’t know if you need to be here for that my love. You should get some air, go find Tallel and let him know how everything is going,” she suggests helpfully as she knows her cousin would appreciate an update, worrier that he is and it would conveniently get Milosh out of the yurt for a bit while the procedure is happening. With a warm smile for Echo, Greer is silently praising the girl for her very helpful suggestion, thinking that a walk might help the spy man as well. “It will only take a few minutes once I’m set up,” the midwife warns as she goes to set up what she will need.

Milosh isn't sure he wants to leave Echo's side, but he knows she's right, the midwife too. Sighing, he nods and pats Echo's hand, Ana appearing in the air above his head to land gently upon the bed as Milosh's proxy. “Send Ana if you need anything Echo, I'll be back right away.” Nodding towards Greer at her last, Milosh slips from the yurt and out into the grounds to hunt for his cousin in law. Every step he takes away from Echo is an agony, but he keeps going, using the fresh air to clear his mind and some of his nerves.

It won’t take long for anyone leaving that yurt to find Tallel. He’s been making circuits - unhurried ones, but constant. Almost. Going home to check on his own family, to eat, and other necessary things have all been done. He comes walking from between the wagons just to the north as Milosh exits, picking up the pace a bit when he spots the man. “Milosh?” He looks his cousin-in-law over for signs of a panic attack in progress even as he asks, “How is she?”

No panic attacks here. Not quite yet anyway, though Milosh probably looks fraught with nerves and the nervous energy that comes with it. He's happy Tallel isn't far off and stops when they meet, sort of bouncing in his sandals as a way to burn off the need to run, or shout, or… something. “She's tired. It's been a long one.” Milosh sounds tired too, and worried. Running a hand through his hair for the bazillionth time, Milosh sighs. “I was told to leave, something about breaking her waters for her.” And here is where the real worry and fear crop up in the Armida man's eyes.

Tallel nods along to Milosh’s reply, even with the last. “She’ll sleep like a rock when all’s said and done,” the caravan second replies. “And try not to worry too much about the waters. Sometimes… With a first birth, things can sometimes be more difficult because it’s something the body’s never done before. A little help along is just needed sometimes.” He lifts a hand, clamping it upon the other man’s shoulder in reassurance. “Once it’s done, things ought to go quite a bit faster. Then you’ll finally get to meet your child, and everyone can rest.”

“I certainly hope she does..” Is said of Echo sleeping after, she’d looked so exhausted to MIlosh. He nods with a little uncertainty when Tallel speaks of the waters and what must happen. Milosh gives an odd sort of laugh, wringing his hands together. “You’d think I’d be less of a mess about all this…I’ve been here before, I know how this goes.” And he feels foolish for being a nervous nut job inside his own head, hopefully it hasn’t showed to his wife. “How do you and your wife keep doing this?” He asks of a sudden, bewildered that a woman would want to do this more than once, or that a man could handle his seeing his wife put herself through such pain and exhaustion over and over.

The laugh that Tallel utters in the wake of Milosh’s last is somewhat bewildered in turn, though deeply wry, and it brings a deeper bit of color to the caravan second’s cheeks. “That might be a better question to ask of Willimina,” he answers, a chuckle still coloring the edges of his voice. “We both love our children, and very much enjoy the process of making them…but I never worry less, each time she is with child. Each time she goes into labor. I don’t know how she does it, but what I do know is that my wife has one of the deepest wells of strength to draw from that I have ever seen. It seems entirely worthwhile for her to endure this trial again and again somehow, and I cannot deny her.” Broad shoulders hitch in a shrug, a lopsided smile tilting his lips. “Perhaps the simplest explanation for why we keep doing it is love.”

Nervous laughter is given to Tallel in return. He can see how that might make sense, and how it might be a better thing to ask the man’s wife. A few more minutes are spent in idle chit chat before Milosh is summoned back to the yurt by a smiling Greer. Apparently things have gone as well as can be planned for. He rushes back to Echo’s side, eager to see how things are going and how his wife is faring. He could not be more ready for this ordeal to be over, and more for Echo’s sake than his own.

Echo is visibly relieved to have Milosh back after the procedure, which does prove successful in increasing the strength of her contractions and moving things along nicely. Several more candlemarks are spent in active labour, and night has come again before Greer smiles warmly after checking her and finally tells Echo that she’s ready to start pushing. Her auburn hair is matted with sweat to her forehead and cheeks as the herder lets her head fall back against the pillows wedged behind her, a softly triumphant look on her face.

Unfortunately things still progress at a glacial pace, and despite a valiant effort on the herder’s part, the babe is being stubborn. After trying an array of positions, Greer finally has Echo standing, supported on the edge of the bed, knees bent and bearing down with her next contraction. The little bit extra help that gravity is able to provide is just what is needed as the midwife, crouched on the ground with a basket of clear towels and blankets close at hand, calls up encouragingly, “Wonderful work Echo! I see a full head of hair already, a couple more contractions like that and we’ll meet this wee shy babe who’s been giving you so much grief already.” With the grip of contraction passed, Echo sags and lets her forehead rest on the bed, taking a moment to reach for every last reserve of energy.

Milosh has done everything he can to keep his calm during the trial that has become this childbirth, done everything he can to be supportive of his tiring wife. But this late in the game his nerves are fraying and more and more of his anxiety seeps through. There is no more joyous thing to hear than when the midwife announces she can see the babe’s head. Milosh near leaps from the seat where he nurses a finger of whiskey, hands running through his hair every few moments. He sets his glass down and moves as close to Echo as he can get without being in the way, reaching over just to touch her, sooth her. “Do ya hear that love, almost there, you’re doing so well Pet…” He strokes at her hair, hands shaking a little as they move to rub her back. There’s not much else he can do….but he’s trying.

Lifting her head from the bedclothes, Echo offers a weak smile up at Milosh, “Almost there…” she echoes as her hand quests for his own. It won’t be long before she is straightening again once she can feel her midsection tightening in that now too familiar way. Her other hand is splayed on the bed, gripping the bedclothes as she supports herself there, tucking her chin to her chest. A low moan builds in the back of her throat that quickly sharpens to a prolonged cry of pain and effort as she bears down hard, knees buckling slightly, curling her body around her distended belly and urging her little passenger down and out.

From the floor, Greer is offering hearty encouragements as her hands delicately cradles the baby’s head as it emerges, finger sweeping the mouth to clear it. “And the head is born, just relax now Echo, panting breaths now and on the next one, push with all your heart and your little one will be here.” Gritting her teeth, she pants as instructed, her brown eyes searching out Milosh’s azure ones. Suddenly, the next contraction crashes over her, and with a near feral cry, Echo pushes with all her might, fingers digging into whatever they can get purchase on. Grabbing a towel, Greer is just in time to catch the baby as it makes its way into the world, a hearty cry erupting from the tiny thing when it finds itself in this new place, all cold and wet. Wrapping it quickly, and rubbing it for warmth, the midwife announces for the new parents, “Here she is. You have a beautiful, big, baby girl.” Echo feels her legs give way in relief as she starts to crumple to the ground.

After so very long, it seems as if this last bit happens in seconds, and maybe it does, and Milosh is torn, between turning towards the sweet, sweet sound of that baby’s wail and catching his wife, who sinks to the floor. His instincts immediately go towards catching Echo, arms moving to keep her from crashing to the floor, the midwife has the babe, she’s in no harm.

She.

A Girl.

A daughter.

“Echo you brilliant, lovely, gorgeous woman…” He murmurs, pressing a kiss to her temple, mist in his eyes. “Did you hear that Pet? A daughter. A wee baby girl.” There’s mist at the corners of Milosh’s eyes, maybe, but he’s focused on his wife, and that she hears what she’s done. Not that the babe’s wails aren’t proof enough of it.

Clinging to Milosh when he catches her, Echo beams weakly up at him, her smile broadening when the cries of their child reach her through the fog of exhaustion and pain. His praise and kiss are like a tonic and she manages, with much support, to balance herself on the edge of the bed,“We have a daughter,” she whispers before eyes start to glisten, her head resting gently on Milosh’s shoulder. Her warm brown gaze searches for Greer and the baby. Standing now with the bundle wrapped in her arms, the older woman turns to face the couple, newborn still crying her displeasure.

“I think someone needs her mommy,” the midwife croons as she brings the bundled baby over to the couple, Echo’s arms reaching out towards her instinctively. When the child is placed into them, she brings the precious bundle to her chest and reaches in to run a fingertip over the soft cheeks and tiny nose, committing every detail of her little face to memory as the smile grows on her lips. “Esmi,” she whispers, speaking the name her and Milosh had picked if it was a girl, “It suits her.” With a warm smile of her own, Greer busies herself with her supplies and puts some water to warm on a brazier for a bath. “When you’re up for it, scoot on back and settle back on the bed. There’s still a couple of things to take care of, but you’ve been through the hardest bit now, the rest will be easy.”


Milosh holds Echo close until she’s handed the babe, having to contain his emotions or become a blubbering mess upon the floor. There’s something deep and hot and protective that wells up in him as he beholds the image of his wife holding their precious bundle. He is a husband. He is a father. And all that is his and ever will be his is not, it’s theirs, for them. Everything is for them. He breathes for the two women before him. His heart beats for the two women before him. And never again will he be alone. Joy like Milosh has never known wells up in its truest form in him and he feels if he might burst with the force of it. The mist in his eyes deepens and he blinks it away, not wanting it to obscure the scene before him. Echo. Esmi. His girls.

Suddenly, he can’t contain himself anymore and he leans in, kissing Echo on the forehead, and then Esmi, his lips lingering just a wee bit longer on the babe’s head as he takes in that newborn smell. “I hope you girls will be alright, I’ll be right back ok? I should tell your cousin, he was worried. I’m so proud of you Echo, she’s beautiful.” His voice is happy, but even, even though he feels anything but even at the moment. He holds a hand to Echo’s cheek, smiling at her for but a moment, an unadulterated look of love and pride on his face, before picking up a bottle of whiskey and sweeping out the door.

The second Milosh is outside, he lets out a whooping and loud, joyous, elated, celebratory (war)cry out into the air, his voice ringing through the desert air like a set of alarm bells. The smile on his face couldn’t be wider as he makes his way to find his cousins in law to share the good news.

Her smile broadening when little Esmi finally calms in her arm, Echo can't take her eyes off her new daughter. Every little thing is perfect, from the soft auburn lashes fanning over her cheeks to the tiniest of button noses. Where she could peek at her eyes, she notes they are blue, and she desperately hopes she ends up with her father's lovely azure color instead of her own ordinary brown. The kiss on her forehead turns her attention to Milosh and her heart almost melts as she watches him kiss the babe. He’s a father again, I gave him that. is her simple enough thought as her own vision is obscured by brimming tears. His words are acknowledged with a nod, “Yes please, I am sure he would appreciate that.” Leaning into the hand at her cheek, she smiles up at him, basking in that adoration, letting it flow through her, bolstering and supporting her in kind. She would do anything for him, and to see the pride in her reflected in his eyes…her face lights up with her own affection for her husband, father of their child.

When she sees him grab the bottle of whiskey, she chuckles after him, “Isn't it a little early for the whiskey?” But he is already gone and then there's that whoop of pure joy that breaks her out into more laughter. Done with her preparations, Greer comes back over with a chuckle and a shake of her head, “Men.” She admonishes simply before she gently takes a drowsy baby from Echo. “Come on little one, momma’s got a bit more work ahead of her,” placing the child in the cradle, she comes back to help Echo onto the bed, which the herder finds rather painful, hissing as she goes. “Aye, you're going to be sore. You tore yourself pretty badly, but once this is over I’ll get the numbweed and stitch you back up good as new. But you tell that husband of yours to keep himself to himself for at least 6 sevens or he’ll undo all my hard work.” Echo manages a bright blush at that as she settles into the cushions.

The delivery of the afterbirth and the stitching taken care off, Greer helps Echo into a fresh nightgown before getting along with giving little Esmi a proper bath. When she's all clean, diapered and dressed in a pretty little dress of soft cotton in shades of pale orange, then bundled into the baby blanket her mother had knit for her and sent on from the Steppes, finally she is deposited back in Echo’s waiting arms, tucked up in bed. Immediately Esmi begins to root around at her mother's chest and almost instinctively, Echo bares her breast and guides her daughter to to it. It's the strangest sensation, but after a moment's hesitation, the babe latches and begins suckling. Turning from where she is puttering about with the aftermath of the birth, Greer smiles over at her, “Well look at you, you're both naturals.” And it does feel natural to Echo, as she watches in fascination while she feeds her babe.

Milosh is not gone long, and he doesn’t come back wreaking of whiskey either, in fact the bottle that dangles from his hand is still quite full. Outside the yurt the joyous sounds of the caravan celebrating the new life brought to them begin to filter in, music and toasts to the newlyweds. Milosh is grinning from ear to ear, and instead of being out with the thring like most fathers would have been, he seeks shelter with his wife and newborn, bonding with his family and the second chance at happiness he’s been handed. It’ll be days before Milosh can be torn from Echo’s side, and he’ll probably drive her nuts in the interim, or maybe he’ll be a help and a blessing, who truly knows? All Milosh knows is that he treasures every moment of it, and that Echo and Esmi are now the center of his world.

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