Out of pure instinct, guided by something I don't fully understand, I lean in and my hands take hold of her shoulders, while the midwife gathers the remaining bloodied rags and towels and scurries away like a rat. At first, Everyn flinches and tenses under my touch, her head turning to me. Her eyes seem unfocused, but I think she recognizes me, because soon after, she breaks down crying and leans back into my touch.
Before I am offered the chance to think this through, I am sitting on the edge of the bed and she leans against me, her shoulder against my chest and her head resting on my shoulder, staining my tunic with her tears.
I'm not sure why she is crying right now, and I don't know what words to use in order to soothe her. instead, I slowly wrap my arms around her, not minding the
