DREAM OF ME, sihtric & finan

6. move along

CHAPTER SIX; move along

    Sihtric never came. Four moons had passed by the time Tova decided she could not linger any longer where she was in the west, miles away but not far enough for men still looked for her in the villages and towns that scattered around the place, though the searches never used her name, no doubt Kjartan being smarter than that.

During that time, and the time she spent in the room she had been given shelter at by the lovely kind elderly couple, much further away, no longer in the North, her belly had grown, her kicking unborn child a constant reminder of the fact she had left Sihtric behind, unable to wait for him.

As soon as her babe was be born, she would find her brothers, she promised herself. But eight moons had shined down since she escaped, Tova was in no fit condition to continue riding unless she wished to harm herself or worse, the child that would depend on her for survival, for everything.

Walking across the dirt path, taking deep breaths as she carried the heavy bucket of water for her horse, Tova had insisted on doing so to Karlan, the elderly man, for it wasn't fair on Fawna to be left alone for so long. Her horse had taken a liking to her, would nudge her stomach with its nose, would calm in Tova's presence.

"Good girl, beauty," She smiled, running her hand down Fawna's side, her other on top of her large belly. Her son or daughter liked to kick, a very active babe, which came to no surprise — both she and Sihtric had been like that as youngsters, too, liking to face and explore the woodlands. "We won't be here for much longer, just until my babe is born and then we shall set out again."

The elderly couple didn't ask many questions. They accepted her coin and were sympathetic upon her story about how her husband had been killed during a raid, claiming she was of a Saxon Mother and a Dane Father. They were Christian's, and so she had to fake her life to work around what they would accept.

"What should we name our babe, hmm?" Tova had no idea on names aside that from her family members. Though if she had a boy, she was at a loss. Sigrid if her babe was a daughter, after her own Mother, but her brother was already Ragnar like their Father.

She didn't quite feel like Ragnar suited her child. Uhtred, most certainly not. She loved her brother, but not his name.

"I have no ideas," She continues to speak, mostly to herself as Fawna couldn't understand her. She gives a laugh when the horse nudges toward the bucket. "That is a sign to call my child bucket, is it? A name fitting for a —"

"Hilda!" The name she had hid herself with is called upon, the female immediately turning her head to spot Anne, Karlan's wife, coming toward her with a man, much younger than her but older than Tova, by her side. Given the resemblance they bore, she assumed this was Anne's son. "Come, my dear,"

With a smile, Tova moved towards them, both hands on her bump now, feeling the heavy weight that dragged her body against her body, but she worked with it.

Anne placed her hand out, one covering Tova's own on her stomach and the other nearing the man's. 

"Hilda, this is my son, Peter." Anne was beaming, her kind self loving Hilda since she had arrived, always commenting on Tova's beauty — like sunshine, she would say.  "He's my youngest son, he has been working for the King but he has returned home now."