Medea stood staring fixedly ahead, the deed was underway, finally. Now as the sun was setting she stood down a back alley in Naginni waiting patiently.
Shivering, she felt a sudden cold whisper around her, snapping her head to the left she seen Circe transpire before her. Passing her a tight bundle the wiry body and pointed face of the young man disappeared as quick as it had come.
Medea looked down at the bundle of ragged blankets in her arms and her eyes swept over the face of the babe within them. The child was sleeping peacefully her rosy lips pursed together, a pink tinge creeping across her face. The little hair she had was as black as the night sky and Medea felt her eyes wander to the babes’ right hand. Knowing that this would be the only time she would be able to get so close to the child she lifted the right hand tentatively. Turning it over she looked at the base of the index finger and there it was, barely visible a tiny scar.
The child stirred with a slight cry and Medea came crashing back to earth. Glancing accusingly around her she swept the babe in towards her breast and covered it with her cloak. Darting out from the alley she crept along the cobbled road, keeping in the shadows. It would be fatal if she were seen, particularly tonight. Everyone was inside remembering the deeds of a hundred years past, they would be questionable if they found Medea outside at this time.
Darting down another alley Medea weaves her way through the side streets until she finds her self on the outskirts of the town. Glancing cautiously around her she enters the darkened room of the ancient wood which lies close by. It is not until she is through the knotted undergrowth of the woods that she stops. Finally Medea catches a glimpse of the old country house, which lies ahead, she is far from the town now and after a minute of catching her breath she continues towards the house.
Excited about the end of her task and the awards ahead of her Medea slows down, taking her time to ponder on what she has done. Everything will be put right, now the child is theirs, those white witches will not sit remembering a hundred years before, for it will happen again. They will rise up and this time there will not be defeat.
As she approached the gate Medea sees something white to her right. Swivelling round she narrows her eyes at the hedgerow. Suddenly a large pain erupts in her head and she falls collapsing to her knees, another burst of unbearable pain and Medea slumps to the ground, the babe has gone.
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