Summer deepened into its fullest expression.
The days were long and golden, the nights warm enough to sleep without furs. The village hummed with activity—endless work, endless motion, the rhythm of life that had played out for thousands of years and would play out for thousands more. Kaelan found himself caught in that rhythm, his immortal heart beating in time with the mortal world around him.
It was strange, how quickly he had adapted. In his old life, he had been a creature of routine—training, working, sleeping, repeating. But that routine had been solitary, self-contained. This was different. This was shared. Every meal, every task, every moment was connected to the people around him.
He had never realized how lonely his old life had been.
Sigrid noticed the change in him before he did.
"You smile more," she observed one evening, as they sat by the river washing clothes. "When you first came, you smiled like it was a weapon. Sharp. Quick. Gone before anyone could really see it. Now you smile like... like you mean it."
Kaelan considered this. "I think I do mean it."
"Good." She splashed him with water. "Keep doing that."
He splashed her back. What started as a small war quickly escalated, and by the end they were both soaked and laughing, sprawled on the riverbank like children.
"Look at us," Sigrid gasped between laughs. "The mighty Wolf of Storm and Ice, defeated by a handful of water."
Kaelan grinned. "A humiliating defeat. I'll never recover."
She leaned over and kissed him, wet hair and all. "Good. Stay defeated."
---
The signs appeared in late summer.
At first, Kaelan didn't notice anything different. Sigrid was the same as always—sharp, fierce, tireless. But gradually, small changes accumulated. She tired more easily during hunts. She had less appetite at meals. She grew irritable in ways that were unlike her.
Kaelan mentioned it to Gudrun, Bjorn's wife, who had become something of a mother figure to them both. The old woman's eyes lit up with knowing.
"Leave it to me," she said. "I'll talk to her."
That evening, Gudrun took Sigrid aside. They spoke in low voices, away from the others. When Sigrid returned, her face was strange—pale, shocked, but beneath it, something else.
Joy.
Kaelan's heart stopped.
"Sigrid?"
She looked at him. For a long moment, she didn't speak. Then, slowly, a smile spread across her face—not the sharp smile, not the dangerous smile, but something new. Something soft and wonderous.
"I'm pregnant."
The words hung in the air between them.
Kaelan had faced trolls without flinching. He had charged a cave bear without hesitation. He had walked into an enemy camp alone and emerged victorious. But this—this simple statement from the woman he loved—struck him like a thunderbolt.
"I'm going to be a father," he said slowly, as if testing the words.
"You're going to be a father," Sigrid confirmed.
He pulled her into his arms and held her like she was the most precious thing in the world. Because she was. Because their child would be.
"We're going to have a baby," he whispered into her hair.
"We're going to have a baby," she agreed, her voice muffled against his chest.
Around them, the village continued its evening routine, unaware that in one small corner of the world, everything had changed.
---
The news spread quickly.
By the next morning, everyone knew. Women congratulated Sigrid with knowing smiles and endless advice. Men clapped Kaelan on the shoulder with varying degrees of awkwardness. Bjorn, upon hearing the news, sat down heavily on a bench and stared at nothing for a full minute.
"I'm going to be a grandfather," he said finally.
"You're going to be a grandfather," Kaelan confirmed.
Bjorn shook his head slowly. Then, unexpectedly, he laughed. "My little girl. A mother. I remember when she was born—screaming her head off, red-faced and furious. Gudrun said, 'This one's a fighter.' She was right."
Kaelan sat beside him. "She gets it from you."
Bjorn looked at him, eyes glistening. "Take care of her. Take care of them both."
"With my life."
Bjorn nodded, satisfied. "Good. Now go—she's probably throwing up somewhere. That's what Gudrun says happens. Go hold her hair."
Kaelan went.
---
The pregnancy was not easy.
Sigrid, who had faced wolves and bears without fear, was laid low by the simple act of growing a human. She vomited most mornings. She tired easily. She craved foods that didn't exist and rejected foods she had loved her whole life.
Kaelan stayed by her side through all of it.
He held her hair when she was sick. He rubbed her back when she couldn't sleep. He walked with her through the forest when she needed air, matching his pace to her slower steps. He listened to her complain, her rage, her fears, and he never once wished to be anywhere else.
"You don't have to do this," she said one night, exhausted and miserable. "You could be training. Fighting. Doing something useful."
Kaelan kissed her forehead. "This is useful. You're useful. You're everything."
She cried then—hormones, she said later, blaming them for everything—but Kaelan knew better. She cried because she was scared, because becoming a mother was terrifying, because the weight of new life was heavy even for someone as strong as her.
He held her through it all.
---
The winter came again, but it was different this time.
The snow still fell. The cold still bit. But the longhouse felt warmer, brighter, filled with anticipation. Sigrid grew larger as the months passed, her belly swelling with the life inside her. The women of the clan fussed over her constantly, bringing food, offering advice, preparing for the birth.
Kaelan spent his days close to home, unwilling to wander far. He trained in the clearing, but always within sight of the village. He hunted, but never alone, always with others who could carry word back if something went wrong.
He was terrified.
Not of the birth itself—he had faced worse dangers. But of the helplessness. Of watching someone he loved suffer and being unable to do anything about it. Of the thousand things that could go wrong, the thousand ways he could lose them both.
Sigrid noticed his fear.
"You're brooding again," she said one night, her voice gentle.
"I'm contemplating."
"Same thing." She took his hand and placed it on her belly. "Feel that?"
Beneath his palm, he felt it—a kick. Small but definite. Life.
"Our son," Sigrid said. "He's strong. Like his father."
"How do you know it's a son?"
"Mother's intuition." She smiled. "Also, Gudrun says the way I'm carrying means it's a boy. She's never wrong."
Kaelan laughed despite himself. "I'll trust Gudrun."
"You should. She's delivered half the people in this village." Sigrid squeezed his hand. "We're going to be fine, Kaelan. All three of us."
He believed her. He had to.
---
The winter solstice came and went. The days began to lengthen, imperceptibly at first, then faster. Sigrid grew heavier, slower, more uncomfortable. The birth was coming.
Kaelan waited.
And waited.
And on the first night of spring, when the snow was finally beginning to melt and the air carried the promise of warmer days, Sigrid's labor began.
---
END OF CHAPTER 10
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