Wulfgar's child than Delly Curtie's? Wulfgar had taken the babe from Meralda of Auckney at Meralda's desperate request, but since Delly had joined up with him and Colson in Luskan, she, not Wulfgar, had been more the parent by far. Wulfgar had been off in search of Aegis-fang, and in search of himself. Wulfgar had been out for days at a time battling orcs. And all the while, Delly had held Colson close, had fed her and rocked her to sleep, had taught her to play and even to stand.
Another thought came to her then, bolstering her maternal uprising. Even with Colson in his care and Delly gone, would Wulfgar stop fighting? Of course not. And would Catti-brie abandon her warrior ways after her wounds healed?
Of course not.
Where did that leave Colson?
Delly nearly cried out at the desperate thought. She spun away from the bed and staggered a step toward the door.
You are entitled to the child, and to a life of your own making, said the voice in her head.
Delly kissed Colson again and stepped boldly across the room, thinking to walk away without looking back.
Should everything good happen to her? the voice asked, and the reference to Catti-brie was as clear to Delly as if it was her own inner voice speaking.
You give and give of yourself, but your own good intentions bring to you desperation, said the voice.
Aye, and empty tunnels o' dark stone, and not a one to share me thoughts, Delly answered, not even aware that she was having a conversation with another sentient being.
She reached the door then, but paused, compelled to look to the side. Catti-brie's gear was piled on a small bench, her armor and weapons covered by her worn traveling cloak. One thing in particular caught Delly's eye and held it. Peeking out from under the cloak was a sword hilt, fabulous in design and gleaming beyond anything Delly had ever seen. More beautiful than the shiniest dwarf-cut gem, more precious than a dragon's mound of gold. Before she even knew what she was doing, Delly Curtie slipped Colson down to the side, balancing her on one hip, and took a fast step over and with her free hand drew the sword out from under the cloak and out of its scabbard at the same time.
She instantly knew that the blade was hers and no one else's. She instantly realized that with such a weapon, she and Colson could make their way in a troubled world and that all would be right.
Khazid'hea, the sentient and hungry sword, was always promising such things.
* * * * *
She opened her eyes to see a comforting face staring back at her, crystal blue orbs full of softness and concern. Before she even fully registered who it was and where she was, Catti-brie lifted her hand to stroke Wulfgar's cheek.
"You will sleep your life away," the big man said.
Catti-brie rubbed her eyes and yawned, then allowed him to help her sit up in her bed.
"Might as well be sleeping," she said. "I'm not doing much good to anyone."
"You're healing so that you can join in the fight. That's no small thing."
Catti-brie accepted the rationale without argument. Of course she was frustrated by her infirmity. She hated the thought of Wulfgar and Bruenor, and even Regis, standing out there on the battle line while she slumbered in safety.
"How goes it in the east?" she asked.
"The weather has held and the ferry is functional. Dwarves have come across from Felbarr, bearing supplies and material for the wall. The orcs strike at us every day, of course, but with the help of the Moonwood elves, they have been easily repelled. They have not come on in force, yet, though we do not know why."
"Because they know we'll slaughter them all across the mountains."
Wulfgar's nod showed that he did not disagree. "We hold good ground, and each passing hour strengthens our defenses. The scouts do not report a massing of orcs. We believe that they too are digging in along the ground they have gained."
"It'll be a winter of hard work, then, and not much fighting."
"Readying for a spring of blood, no doubt."
Catti-brie nodded, confident that she'd be more than ready to go back out into the fighting when the weather turned warm.
"The refugees from the northern settlements are leaving even now," Wulfgar went on.
"The way out is safe enough to risk that?"
"We've got the riverbank for a mile and more to the south, and we've put the ferry