Wildling's Woe 3

Having concluded a rather strange supper, Husband and Wife have news to share with each other. News, that may not be welcome, in either case.

"You're dreading something, husband," Clara said as Oskar returned from putting Finlay to bed despite the boy's protests.

Oskar smiled and sighed at his wife's statement, her way of letting him know that though she wouldn't pry at it, she knew something was on his mind. "Never could get anything by you. Not even a proposal."

"Would you prefer a wife who was blind to her husband's concerns?" She teased as she hugged him.

"Never." He returned her hug and added a kiss to the mix before taking a breath. "I have a few friends who might be able to help with Milton's troubles."

"But they would need you, as would Merme. You said you'd promised nothing earlier, but Merme doesn't see things that way. Inviting him in as we did made it a matter of honour." Clara nodded her head before she rested her cheek against her husband's chest. She knew he'd not explain who his friends were, why she'd never met them, or why they'd only be able to help find a kidnapped family but not have come up as potential hands for the farm.

As much as she knew her husband, she knew there was an entire chapter of his life that he never spoke of. Nor would his father even acknowledge it. The section that made him the reigning champion of the Winter Wrastle for nearly a decade. The section that kept him up some nights and sweating in terror-filled dreams during others. The section that haunted his eyes those rare times she caught him staring into space. "Do what you need to. Just come back to us, to Finlay. To me." Clara paused, debating whether she should say her next words or not. She looked at Oskar once more, "And one we've not named yet." She decided that fear would only create regret.

Oskar stared into his wife's eyes as she spoke. Spellbound by the hazel pools, he nearly missed her last sentence. Nearly. "Again? You're sure?"

Clara nodded, "I've missed two moons. And I'm too young to be barren already." She relished the smile on his face. Finlay had taken so many tries, and now they'd have another child. Son or daughter, who cared? The Gods had given them a second child. And she could see the joy in her husband's eyes. A single stripe of fear was there, too, but the joy was far more critical.

"I swear to you three, I'll be back by the snowfall." Oskar said as he processed the news. He'd have another child. What if he died tracking Milton's kin? What if he missed the birth? Worse, what if Clara didn't survive it? Finlay's had already been tough on her. Both the wise woman and the priest were surprised she'd fared as well as she had afterward. Both warned Oskar that she may not live through another. To put her through it again, potentially alone...

Oskar couldn't, wouldn't, let it happen. If he had to tear apart the city with his bare hands to find the wildling's missing kin, he would. Every door, every brick if he must.

A long, plaintive yowl cut through the evening as the couple held each other. Both looked out the only door, seeing Milton baying at the nigh invisible moon. The wildling threw his head back with each wail, singing a mournful wolf's song, with none to call back to him. Even the dogs in the area didn't return his cries. Alone, he howled at the night sky, bellowing on his own two feet. 'Come the morning,' Oskar thought to himself, 'we will begin rectifyng that, my strange friend.'