Page 137 of To Trap a Soul

So, even if it was selfish, Orson could wait until she was ready. He could scour the forest, eat Demons, and do whatever violent things he wanted, and she would stay here to preserve Nathair’s memory just a little longer. He could snarl and snap at her black magical dome as much as he liked. He could head-butt it with his bull horns and roar at her from a distance all he wanted. But she would not relent.

Not until she was ready to give this child their identity.

The original plan was to give birth in Zafrikaan, but Lindi had asked to be brought back here to Austrális instead.

Because as much as she guiltily hated Orson right now, she hoped such resentment would pass. She didn’t want to leave him here on this continent by himself. Not with Jabez, who had made himself known to be an enemy of her and Weldir – and likely their children. But also wanted to protect him from the Demons. From humans. Even from himself.

She didn’t want Orson to be alone.

He now knew that their skulls were precious and vulnerable. She doubted he would make the same mistake twice – she hoped.

Maybe he would cling to this sibling just as much as his older brother, and they could both learn to heal through the newest child.

But the fact that he tried to attack her repeatedly, despite her holding them, brought ill omens. Orson wasn’t like Nathair, who was gentle around her while she was pregnant or had a baby on her. He was aggressive, like a wild bear protecting their territory, and she was the trespasser.

He was scary. And perhaps even more frightening than the Demons he hunted. A ruthless killer that couldn’t be touched, couldn’t be soothed, unless the other person wished to die.

He was her most frightening child.

Even when he’d been a baby, he’d been a biter. He’d also been the most protective of her compared to the others; she should have known then that he was antagonistic.

In some ways, their personalities showed a little when they were not fully formed. Her sleepiest children seemed to be the laziest. Her biters the most aggressive. And her active children were the wild ones who could be full of energy.

So what are you?Lindi thought, as she made them knock their little enclosed fists together to play with them as they held her thumbs.All you do is whimper and cuddle.

Once more, resentment climbed its way inside her chest, and she brought them into her arms to hug them.Please tell me your early birthing didn’t hurt you.She blamed Orson for that, for clawing into her stomach and causing such devastation when they were at their most vulnerable and precious.

When she was supposed to protect them the very most with her entire body.

She blamed Weldir for twisting her arm and making her face him just to preserve what remained of Nathair.

She blamed herself.

There must have been another way. She could have acted faster. She could have cleared her mind and heart of the hurt and been more insightful. Surely there was a reason she was to blame.

Or maybe she just wanted to bear that burden more than anything. To find a reason to condemn herself and absolve her resentment of everyone else. To forgive at a time when that felt impossible.

She longed to cease crying and love Orson like she had before, but it was so hard.

“I just want the hurting to stop,” she sobbed out as she hugged them tighter, and they nuzzled back with a sooky purr. “And for you to grow big and strong.”

Strong enough to take on anyone or anything.Whether it be a Demon, a human, or Orson.

“I want you to be like Nathair.”

Her sweet, patient, and calm little – but big in size – serpent.

She’d been feeding them boneless fish because she felt awful about being inert, but she also wanted them to carry a piece of Nathair with them. They had similar fish fins going down their arms, legs, and back, and she thought it looked just as cute as the first time she’d seen it on one of her children.

But Lindiwe already knew what she’d name them, what skull they’d have, and even what horns she’d give them.

All of them could be found on Austrális, although they once didn’t belong here. She wanted them to be other, to be different.

She longed for them to be strong and cunning, ferocious and agile. A wolf skull seemed like a wonderful fit with their large fangs, good nose, and hunting skills. She’d always liked the look of impala antelope horns from the moment she’d first seen them, and the fact that their numbers were dwindling already in this part of the world made her want to preserve them too.

Their name... she’d decided upon something that gave strength in its meaning. The mythological killer of a god, and a force of chaos in a world filled with more evil than they could possibly deliver.

A name that reminded her of her very good friend, who had likely passed away in the many years she kept endlessly living.

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