Prologue-2
1379 Words
A decade later, Arthur Sedrid found himself in a hurry.
The whole of Grand Wolf Plains had gathered around the Sedrid residence. The crowds occupied all of the main pathway and stretched through the gaps between adjacent houses, held back by the perimeter of servants and soldiers in front of the door.
His second cub was on the way.
On his right was Reginald, his personal ictharr. The grey beast padded alongside him, the fur around his snout turning silver with age. His seniority did not damage his status or ability, however. Nearby ictharrs looked on in awe as he strode along with youthful vitality, looking straight ahead with a determined look in his eyes.
On his left was his firstborn, Ragnar Sedrid. Arthur dragged him along by the paw down the snowy path to the house. The snow mingled with his white front while other snowflakes stood out against the coal-black fur across the rest of his body like stars against a night sky. The cub was bewildered, wide-eyed, and lacked any knowledge of what was happening. A cloak several sizes too big covered his shoulders. It verged on engulfing him.
“Daddy? Daddy, where are we going? Why is everyone around our house?”
“It’s a surprise, Ragnee,” he said, using his nickname. “It’s a surprise for everyone.”
“A surprise?”
“Yes, yes. We’ve got to hurry though, okay?”
“Is it a good surprise?”
“Yes, it’s a very good surprise.”
He could hear the yells and shouts of good will to his wife, Ophelia, from the crowd. Army soldiers patrolled past the gatherings, forming a barrier between them and the house. Krosguard soldiers repeatedly circulated among the crowd, able to see over everyone from their elevated positions on their ictharrs.
The weather was kinder at this time; the snow fell softer and the temperature had ever so slightly increased. Arthur smiled.
“Stay strong, my dear. Stay strong.”
“What did you say, Daddy?”
“Nothing, Ragnee. Just talking to myself. Come on, let’s be quick now.”
As he waded into the crowd, he saw people turn and yell to one another.
“Make way!” the guards yelled.
“Move, the Winter Baron is coming!” the crowd bellowed.
The sea of bodies parted before him. He kept a tight hold of his son’s paw as he slowly guided himself through the maze of bodies. The onlookers waved and cheered, wishing the Winter Baron and his wife good luck. Paws reached out and petted Reginald on the sides. The ictharr thanked them with growls of approval. Ragnar looked up and scanned the faces of the people, still maintaining his bewildered expression.
Arthur stopped as the wall of soldiers parted for him to step through. As he did, he saw the head servant turn and open the front door before stepping to the side.
“Thank you, Peter,” Arthur said, stopping before the door. “How is she?”
“In labour, Winter Baron,” Peter said. “I would hurry inside.”
“Of course. Keep an eye on things out here, please.”
“Of course, Winter Baron,” he nodded.
“Reginald, stay.”
The ictharr growled in agreement, turning to face the other way and sitting beside Peter. The head servant petted him.
Entering the spacious lobby of the house, Arthur let go of his son’s paw when he heard the door shut behind him. Three servants, all eager to give him details on the birth, rushed forwards.
“Winter Baron, Winter Baron!” cried one, taking his helmet from him and placing it on the dining table. “We are reaching the end of labour. Your wife is on the verge of giving birth!”
“You’ll need to come with me if you wish to be present, Winter Baron,” another said.
“Of course,” Arthur nodded, hastily turning around and placing his grey paws on his son’s shoulders. “Ragnee, Daddy has to go get the surprise ready. Be good and wait here with Klaus and Gertrude. I’ll let you know when it’s prepared, okay?”
“What’s the surprise?” he asked.
“Not right now, Ragnee. Be good and you can ride Reginald with me later, okay?” Arthur said, turning and racing upstairs with one of the servants. “Look after him, please!”
Moving quickly across the wooden landing to the bedroom door, Arthur could hear his wife’s cries of pain coming from inside. In addition, he could hear the sounds of the doctors working their hardest to facilitate the birth perfectly, talking frantically to one another in medical jargon.
“Here we go, Winter Baron,” the servant said, pushing the wooden door open.
Before him, the bedroom was a madhouse – tables had been brought in on which to place medical equipment and at least 10 wolves were buzzing around the room. Two doctors, both highly esteemed practitioners of medicine, instructed their subordinates on what to do.
“Ah, Winter Baron,” one of the doctors said. “You might want to take your wife’s paw.”
Arthur didn’t question her – he quickly walked over to his wife’s bedside, her white and black fur matted with blood on the lower side, and he held her paw.
“Oh my God, Arthur! Oh my God!”
“Come on, dear. It’s the second time around – the second time is always easier.”
She screamed.
“Okay keep pushing!” the doctor yelled.
“Come on, Milady! You’ll be done soon!” the other doctor yelled.
“Ophelia, deep breaths, all right?” Arthur said.
“O-okay… okay.”
“Push!” the two doctors yelled.
With a mighty scream and a sharp clench of Arthur’s paw, she closed her eyes and began to push.
“Come on, Ophelia!”
“Come on, Milady!”
“Keep going – not too long!”
“Think of how beautiful he will be afterwards!”
“Harder!”
“Come on!”
“What are we going to call him?” Arthur asked Ophelia, trying to take her mind off the pain.
Ophelia had her eyes tightly closed and was too busy dealing with the pain to respond immediately. She punctuated every second with a grunt of pain, body trembling from the ordeal.
“Dear, open your eyes.”
One red-rimmed eye barely opened, looking right back at him.
“What are we going to call our son?”
“We’re… we’re going to call him… C-Corsair.”
“Say it again, dear, come on.”
“Corsair! We’re going to call him Corsair!”
“I… I can see a head!” one doctor yelled. “I can see him!”
The news reverberated around the room, one wolf passing it on to the next.
“They can see Corsair!” Arthur said. “What’s his full name going to be?”
“Corsair Sedrid! Son… son of Arthur and Ophelia Sedrid!”
“Who is he going to be brother to?”
“Ragnar Sedrid!”
“I’ve almost got him! Keep going, Milady!”
“And what’s he going to grow up into?” Arthur urged her.
“A beautiful, brave and wonderful wolf!” she screamed at the top of her lungs.
One doctor recoiled from Ophelia, a bloody bundle in his arms.
“I’ve got him! I have him, I have him!”
Arthur froze and stared at what was now his second cub.
Before him, cradled in the doctor’s arms, connected to his loving wife by a red cord, was his cub. He whimpered and gasped, his body matted in crimson. The doctor shushed him as he began to cry, letting the second doctor lean in for observation.
“Hold on to my wife’s paw,” Arthur said to a nearby servant.
“Yes, Winter Baron.”
Arthur let go of his wife’s paw and walked towards the doctors. One inspected the cub in her arms while the other prepared a warm cloth in which to wrap him. Arthur approached with apprehension, not wanting to grow optimistic too quickly. She looked up and made eye contact with him, smiling.
“Winter Baron, our predictions were correct. I am currently holding a perfectly healthy son.”
Arthur sighed with relief and smiled. He looked down at his joy.
Our joy.
“Corsair Sedrid.”
“That’s him, Winter Baron. A fine name too. I imagine he’ll grow up to become a wonderful wolf.”
“My pup,” Ophelia whimpered. “Is my pup okay? Is he hurt?”
“No, no, Milady!” the other doctor comforted her. “He’s quite all right. Winter Baron, may we show Milady the pup?”
“Of course,” Arthur said, walking back over to his wife.
He knelt by her bedside as she held Corsair Sedrid, their second son, in her arms. Wrapping an arm around her and gently bringing her into him, he looked down at the pup and smiled.
“Corsair,” Ophelia said. “I love it. It suits him so well.”
“It does.”
“Ragnee is going to love him,” Ophelia sniffed. “Corsair and Ragnar. They’ll be inseparable. God, they’ll be such troublemakers.”
“They will.”
“We believe your son to be in good health, Milady,” one of the doctors reported. “Can we proceed with cutting the umbilical cord now?”
He looked at his wife, who was busy looking at their new-born son, and then looked back.
“I’d say a few minutes. Thank you so much.”
“Of course, Winter Baron,” he nodded, turning away.
- Writer
