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“…” Alice kept the bundle close to her chest, glaring at me with tears in her eyes.
“It is alright, child,” I smiled at her. I too, was clutching a similar bundle of blankets. It wriggled aggressively in my hands.
Alice didn’t smile back, instead clutching the bundle even closer to her chest. “I ain’t a child anymore, Grimalkin.”
“I can see that,” I held her gaze, trying to show sympathy. “I know what it is to give up your child, Alice. I wouldn’t be asking you if it wasn’t essential for her safety. You will have her back within a year and a day, and she will be no different from when you left her.”
“No,” Alice sniffed. “You have to equalise time… to keep Circe off her trail. Don’t try to spare my feelings.”
I dropped my smile, and stood up, bringing myself above the girl’s eye level. “Fine then, do you want me to break it down for you? Your stoic idiot of a husband thought his honour above the safety of his wife and unborn child. He put you in jeopardy, for the sake of a sexist pig, and now you bow to the mercy of the God of madness.”
Alice’s glare became ice, boring a hole into my skull. Tears welled in her eyes, and she stifled a sob.
Eventually, she relented, and shoved the bundle forwards, and we swapped.
Without saying a word, she turned around and marched away from me, blinking back tears and snivelling.
“Poor Alice,” Thorne appeared at my side, eagerly looking up at the babe I clutched in my arms. “What’s her name?”
“Tilda,” I smiled down at the small creature. Not since my own son, had I held a sleeping baby. I’d forgotten how peaceful they were.
Tilda was small, even for a baby. She was fast asleep, with her weak little limbs wriggling beneath her blankets. She was smiling into herself, probably dreaming of her mother’s caring smile, and her father’s strong embrace.
“I’m happy for them,” Thorne smiled. “She’s a cute kid.”
I smiled and walked Tilda to the edge of the gallows, then sat upon the third step. Thorne tailing me close behind.
“Would you like to hold her?” I asked, catching Thorne’s obsessed glare.
She shuffled her feet, clearly excited at the proposition, but she kept her hands glued to her sides. “I don’t know how,” she frowned.
“It’s easy, and as natural as breathing,” I patted the step beside me. “Come, child, I will show you.”
Thorne sat beside me, sitting up straight, pretending like she was a lady.
“Hold your arms out like so,” I demonstrated to her, holding Tilda out in both of my hands.
Thorne did as I instructed, watching my moves with precision, keeping her hands still.
“Now, bend your elbows in, and form a cradle. Use your right to form a rest for her head, and…” Seeing that Thorne had formed a perfect cradle, I gently lowered Tilda into her arms, surprising her.
At first, she spasmed and lost her composure, but once the infant touched her, she went still and gracefully accepted the tiny thing.
I sat next to her, watching her smiling face as she rocked it back and forward. I was around her age when I had my son. God, seeing her now, it was like looking at a younger version of me. Granted, I hadn’t sharpened my teeth back then, I still preserved that part of my youthful innocence.
Tilda kicked, and Thorne reacted by gently shushing her, acting on base instincts.
“You would’ve made an excellent mother, Thorne,” I complimented her, and placed my hand on her shoulder.
She leaned into my hand, and smiled, “Thank you, Grimalkin.”
I couldn’t deny, I heard a twinge of sadness in her voice. As a consequence of our undeath, neither Thorne nor I could have children of our own. And Thorne had died young, so she never got to experience love, not in the way that I, or many of her peers, had. For years I'd considered that a boon. For what little I had known, had ended in tragedy, and resulted in an unending quest of revenge against those that wronged me. I believed it was pointless.
But to see Thorne... She had never known it. To not know love is arguably worse than to lose it all. I felt sorry for her in that regard.
I didn’t let her see it, but I wiped away a tear at the thought. It was my fault Thorne had died. My own selfish quest for revenge had dragged her in as an unwilling victim. But… there was a positive side to it.
“Thorne…” I choked on my words.
“Yes,” she looked back up at me.
I thought about what I was going to say, but I couldn’t find the words.
“Grimalkin?” Thorne was looking worried now.
Rather than use words, I leant forward and hugged the girl. It was the first time I’d done that since we’d been reunited in death.
Thorne was, at first, shocked, but she soon gave in and leant into me.
“Grimalkin,” Thorne began, “can I call you, mum?”
“Oh, child,” I started to cry, “of course you can.”