“Look at me Tolerai,” Cisley squeezed hands over her sisters, the labor started two hours ago and most of that time her sister spend in pain.

“It is almost over, just push one more time. One more and you are going to have a son.”

Tears rose from her eyes obscuring the image of Tolerais face, leaving only short brown locks matted with sweat and dirt, before they slid over her cheeks, mixing with sweat and grime under her knees

“I see the head, she needs to push more or we would need to open her, or lose the child.” Harsh voice of a midwife, the oldest women she ever saw here, urged Cisley to make another false promise to her sister.

She made too many of those in the last couple of weeks, hoping she would be able to keep at least one of them she lowered her lips near her sisters, urging her to make one more push, just one more.

Locking eyes with her for an instant before pain forced Tolerai to close hers in another spike of pain. Cisley could feel her sisters suffering as if it was her own. They were never so close before and all it took was forced labor, mixed with despair and constant fear of abuse.

Rising her hands in prayer she uttered half-hearted words to Kremmel in hopes he would reward her sisters struggle, only to be interrupted by the scream of newborn.

Breath escaped her lips in relief, before the hand she was holding started to slide from her grasp. Squeezing harder she saw Tolerai facing the other side, mutely staring at the bundle of white cotton now laying next to her head.

Silence settled over them all as the brown eyes of the child looked curiously at his mother’s unmoving body.

Shoulders were shaking as Cisley tried to contain her sobs, engraving the last image of her sister into memory. “I will take care of him,” whisper nobody could hear escaped her lips, “I swear to you sister.”

As the boy started announcing his new life to the world in cries of sorrow she was unable to contain her own, feeling pair of hands around her shoulders, she turned away, holding onto Lexa who came to console her.

The cries turned into sobs, quiet prayers to whatever gods were present were uttered by some, as the boy exhausted himself into his first sleep.

Cisley watched Tolerais body being hauled out of the wooden doors by a couple of red-dressed soldiers on a watch that night.

She would never see her again, she won’t be given proper rites of passage, nor would she lie with her parents in the family tomb. Just another body, another dead prisoner burned to prevent disease, the Empires soldiers had few good qualities, but efficiency was one of them.

“What about the child, who will take him?” The raspy voice of midwife interrupted the silence once more.

“Of course I will take care of him,” Cisley muttered, hoping she could say it with more confidence as she turned to the child. Looking at the little boy her sister left behind, intense fear paralyzed her hands from scooping him into an embrace.

What am I thinking? There is no way I can take care of the child, not with my own coming as well. Staring on the dirt under her feet, she didn't move.

Signing, the midwife took the boy and gently put him into one of the cribs in the center of the room.

“You are in the shock, it is never easy when one loses her family.”

Looking up Cisley saw a gentle smile on the matron’s face. “You should mourn tonight, say what you need to say, then sleep. In the morning you can decide if you want to take care of the boy or not.”

Glancing at the cribs, she walked out of the door muttering, “you are not the only one.”