Page 60 of The Buck Stops Hare

Lincoln whispered to him and received a nod in response. So, when wordlessly, he leaned into Cliff’s space, hand under the blanket for a moment, I turned my head away, giving Cliff some dignity. The snap of a rubber glove proceeded with a hiss and short noise of discomfort.

“Yeah, you listened like I told and are right on cue. Waters haven’t broken, yet, but that’s not uncommon.” Lincoln drew back and pulled a glove off, tossing it into a nearby trash bag fastened to the end of the bed. Despite my reservations with litter and trash, I understood the need for some things. At least our trash bags were compostable, and Lincoln assured me thegloves were natural rubber. Cliff saw to a lot of that on his own, without my prompting.

“Get over here, man.” Cliff laid his head back on a pile of pillows and beckoned me over. “Probably going to be a while, but better safe than sorry?”

Lincoln nodded. “You called further in than Rayne. His waters broke, so he called right then. You’ve toughed it out.”

The compliment seemed to make Cliff happy, a half grin tilting his lips over a grimace. And the smile didn’t fade when I approached the bed, sidling into it to press against him, folding my body into a suitable shape for him to lean on. If he minded me there, he didn’t say a word about it, but did accept my hand in a strong grip. “I love you, my Weathering Cliff. May my falls from you always be so happy.”

His shame-addled face morphed into a smile. “Love you too, dude. I’d take this a thousand times over just to stay here with you. With everyone. Thanks for bringing me home.”

I placed a hand on the drum-taut surface of his belly, and we sat in silence, following the rhythm of his contractions into late morning, where he wanted another shower as sweat clung to his skin.

Lincoln didn’t seem to think it was a bad idea, so I joined him, pressing into his back and cupping his belly under the flow of scalding water. “You keep brushing me off when I want to talk names. You have something?”

“Yeah. But I don’t want to jinx it. I feel like saying it is bad luck.” He swayed with me as I rocked my hips with his, distributing pressure in a way Lincoln said might help. And there we stood until the water ran cool.

It wasn’t just the water off his body when we stepped out, pink-tinged fluid gushed down his thighs onto our wrinkled towel we used as a bath mat.

“F-fuck. Lemme clean that u—” Cliff made to move but I stopped him, calling Lincoln in as I ushered Cliff back to the bedroom and grabbed the towel to add to the rest of the laundry. It’d be one less thing for him to worry over later.

When I sidled into the bed, Cliff welcomed me as Lincoln busied himself between my love’s legs.

“Give me a little push, Cliff. I want to see if things are—” Lincoln held the blanket up and ducked under. “Yep! Next contraction—push definitely.”

Cliff rode out the sensations with sharp breaths, doing his best to hold his form and keep his thoughts straight. Namely, thoughts about humanity, our baby, things that raced through the shared channel of our minds. I did all I could to take part of his pain though.

I lost myself to the sensation, not hating it as much as I was relishing it. I’d spent a lifetime inflicting and watching pain. I was a sacrificial stone, after all, and blood on my altar promised a healthier land. Life for life. Blood for sustenance.

As the thought hit me and Cliff screamed, I glanced up in time to see Lincoln coaching. He coaxed Cliff’s breaths, commanding him to push.

In the end, the broken sob that Cliff released made something in my heart snap. And no sooner was I shedding tears, than I was opening my arms to receive a red-faced child, mouth gaping, eyes screwed shut. His umbilical cord still pulsed with godblood. That tapered off in seconds as Lincoln busied himself and took the baby back.

“You can call her,” Cliff’s raspy voice intervened and I dialed Ida Maye, signaling her to come over.

As the pack matron, she had the right to welcome all life in their lands. Vidalia had welcomed Vida, and so too would the new matron declare this new god and bless her.

I’d been so preoccupied with the blessing that I’d not thought to check, and smiled when I realized we’d had a little boy, just like Cliff thought.

Ida Maye sprinted into our cabin, the lines around her eyes deep and dark, her duties many and sleepless nights growing as she waited for our new blessing. So, it was no surprise when pure relief melted her face, drawing her age back slightly from her formidable years to something more matronly than crone. “A little boy. Bless.”

Cliff grinned wide when she rocked the little one and cleaned him with Lincoln. Ida Maye had plenty to say, cooing over him from praises over his smattering of dark hair and chubby cheeks. Even when he opened his eyes, she praised the startling color in them. Of all things,blue.

Blue like my eyes were.

Not the steely blue of a newborn but the bright blue of cold water.

River’s sacrifice.

“And what name did you decide, Buckling Stone and Weathering Cliff?” She used our full names, giving us a little hint of power like a prayer.

“Banks. Where water meets stone, silt, and earth.” Cliff took the child and traced a calloused finger over his tiny nose, minute cheek, and to his preciously curled ear.

A god named for another god.

“Go look in the mirror.” Cliff snorted and glanced at me, shouldering me away from our little one.

As I stood and obeyed, going to the wall where a small one swayed from a stretched wire. Same as always, until recent of course, green eyes stared back at me. My own green, not River’s.

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