Agathia’s weakened state didn’t permit her the luxury of crying for her loss. She lied back onto the haystack, leaning her head to one side. Her newborn son wriggled in her arms making cooing noises and looking very hungry. Agathia wiped the blood from his head and face.

“You need a name, don’t you, little one?” asked Agathia to her son. She thought for a moment, then smiled. “Aslof,” she mewed.

Something flicked her side as Agathia prepared to remove her bra to feed the baby. She waved it away, habitually, like swatting at a gnat. Only, it wasn’t a gnat. It was larger. Instinctively, Agathia rolled away and tucked her baby close to her chest. She searched over the hay and sheet, looking for the animal. There was nothing. “I’m a little skiddish, I suppose,” she said, with a nervous chuckle. Her eyes wandered to her lost daughter. Her strength returning to her, tears began to well up in her eyes. Again, something flicked at her side. She bolted to her feet. Still nothing.