Page 78 of Through Battle and Blades (The Wolf Queen 2)

“I don’t know how to do this. We left him with a lovely lady at the barracks and she’d already raised her own children, so surely she’d—”

“Hush.”

That, that hand on my arm, that utterly confident authority delivered in the softest of tones. I stared at Annis’ hand then, feeling a rush of jealousy the like of which I’d never felt before. Ever since I’d gotten to Strelae, it felt like I was expected to fulfil all these roles I was unprepared for, but this was the only one that really concerned me. Because I remembered being a motherless child, and a fatherless one, if I was honest with it. But I’d had Nordred, who’d stepped out from the shadows to provide me with the support, the patience and… the love, I realised that now, that I needed. But I was no legendary weapons master with the wisdom of the ages to draw upon. I was just me.

“What do you think happens when a young lass bears a babe?” Annis asked me, her voice soft and sweet. “Do you think she looks at the wee puling scrap and knows exactly what to do with it? For the most part you’re just too bloody exhausted from the whole ordeal.”

“And hurting. It felt like I’d been torn from my arsehole to my belly button,” one of the women chortled, her laughter only growing more raucous when my eyes widened.

“Or half out of your mind with blood loss. Goodness, I bled so much, my Terrence had the priests called, just in case,” another said.

“But baby care? We’re lucky, for the most part, as they seem to come with more sense than their mothers, rooting around for your nipple even if you’ve no idea why. They sort themselves out sure enough.”

Annis then looked over to the children playing together. Del had the knuckle bones now and was showing the children some more complex throws.

“What they need is what everyone needs. Food, shelter, warmth, clothes, comfort.” She turned back to me. “Love.”

“But what about discipline?” I said, blanching when I remembered my father’s favourite means of correction. I tried to see myself wielding a switch and saw that claws formed at the ends of my fingers as a result. “I’m not beating him. I don’t care what you say—”

“Is that what they do to young ‘uns across the border?” Annis’ face fell into a expression it took me a moment to recognise: sympathy. “You beat your children?”

“With a switch.” They stared at me in confusion. “You get the child to cut down a branch if you’re feeling especially vexed and then you…”

My words faded as I heard a collective hiss come from the women, their eyes sliding to each other. I frowned then and loosened the ties on my shirt sufficiently so I could reveal part of my shoulder and that’s when I had my realisation confirmed.

“That hasn’t happened to you,” I finished lamely. I studied each woman closely, looking for falsehoods even though my suspicions meshed with what I’d seen of Strelae. It was far from some lupine utopia, but…

“I’d rather stripe me own back than do such a thing to one of my children,” one of the women said, going pale. “And if my Frank got ideas…” She shook her head decisively.

“Husbands don’t beat their wives either, I’m guessing.” I let out a hopeless little laugh that no doubt made me appear unhinged, so I spent an inordinate amount relacing my shirt. None of my mates had seemed inclined to raise their hands to me so my supposition made sense. “So how does one ensure a child grows up right?”

“Children aren’t good at predicting the consequences of their action,” Annis told me, reaching over and giving my hand a squeeze. “Watch baby Jane over there.”

“Urgh… that girl…” Her mother got to her feet and hurried over as the child crawled slowly and ponderously towards the fire.

“To her the fire is pleasantly warm, bright and always moving,” Annis said, watching them. “So, of course, she wants to touch it. She has no idea what will happen if she’s allowed to do just that.”

Her mother swept her baby up into her arms, doing so in a way that meant that as the child began to fuss, her mother tossed her up in the air for a second, then tucked her in tight for a cuddle.

“Some things you can let a child learn from their mistakes.”

Annis’ focus shifted to the children playing knuckle bones. One of the younger ones was trying to achieve some of the most complex manoeuvres the older boys had shown him. He failed miserably the first time, and the second, his face screwing up in frustration. Her eyes slid back to me.

“Other things will scar them indelibly if you let them have their heads. Knowing the difference is the easy part for an adult. Finding a way to communicate that in a way that steers the child in the right direction, without hurting or harming them, just as much as letting a baby touch the flames would. That’s harder.”

There was a gentle chorus of agreement from the other ladies.

“Use a soft hand,” Annis advised.

“You were so good with us when you were teaching us swordplay, milady,” one of the women said earnestly. “I’m all thumbs with a weapon in my hand, but you didn’t scold me or ridicule.”

“No, of course not,” I replied. “I would never. No one learns well that way.”

“And who taught you that? Not the man who left his mark on your body,” Annis said with a long look. “Someone else, I’m thinking.”

I nodded slowly at that.

“All you can do is try, knowing all the while you’ll get it wrong sometimes and right at others. There are no shortcuts, no sage advice we can impart, but you’re welcome at our table anytime to discuss any concerns you have,” Annis said finally, patting my hand before letting it go.

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