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Chapter Six

From the western side of the camp, the panicked wails of a lost child reached the queen's ears through the crackling fires sweeping through the tents. Goosebumps rose on her flesh beneath the iridescent black armor she wore. Her brown eyes, pupils dilated in the darkness, scanned the horizon for the great red bear.

"I'm here, milady," came Gulliver's voice from beside her. A wave of relief washed over her upon his approach, but she concealed the emotion from his view. She could feel his eyes upon her, studying her, understanding something was amiss. "What is it my queen?"

Gulliver had always had a knack for reading her in a way the others couldn't. It was why she'd made him her second. The importance of having someone there she could trust and rely on was more valuable than anything else in the world. The queen needed that specialty, for she couldn't always see things herself. Her eyes traveled to his as he stood upright to cast a long, suspicious gaze around the camp. When he lowered himself back to all fours, he tilted his head, evidently awaiting her response.

"You didn't tell me there would be children here."

The bear's face could not move as it would have when he had been human, but the queen could tell he was confused.

"Children, my queen?"

"Yes, children, Gulliver! Do you not hear it?"

"Hear...what, milady? I hear nothing but the sounds of fire and our soldiers."

"The crying!"

Again, the red bear shook his head.

"No, my queen. I...am afraid I do not hear it."

But the wailing had grown louder, and Reema's heart was racing now. She strode toward the sound, Gulliver following close behind her as he was expected to. Her armor clanked as she moved, the blades crossed on her back shifting just enough to remind her they were still there, at the ready, should she ever need anything but her magic. There, at the edge of the camp and situated at the base of a large tree, were the charred remains of a tent. The crying continued, seeming to come from within the ashes. The queen knelt, the swift pressure of her armored knee sending a burst of embers drifting into the air while a gloved hand reached forward to move broken and burned fragments of the tent frame from where they rested.

"My queen...?" Gulliver's voice betrayed his ongoing confusion.

But the queen said nothing, instead brushing aside the ashes once the frame had been removed. Beneath the pile, a tiny form emerged, no bigger than her hand. It was moving, writhing amongst the soot, and the sheet upon which it lay was coated in browning blood and cinders. Her gloved hands trembled as she scooped the fetus into them, holding it up and conjuring a flame to better see the creature she held. Gulliver approached her, his head appearing from the left as he studied what she'd found with large, shocked eyes.

"This creature should be dead," he commented, his voice low. "Where is the mother?"
Reema could say nothing. Her eyes were locked on the form of the dying fetus.

"My queen?"

A sharp nudge against her shoulder plate drew the queen from her trance. Her head shook once and she looked to the bear with eyes that betrayed a fear she knew he would not have seen before. At that moment, though, she didn't care. The form she held in her hands continued to wail, but the bear still seemed unable to hear it.

"It is my child," she voiced at last, her eyes returning to the fetus. "You cannot hear it because it never lived except in me."

"You did not have a child, my queen."