Child-rearing

“What are you doing? That’s my best ammunition pouch!”

She looked up, her face luminous from exertion, and sporting an expression of barely suppressed rage. Sitting cross-legged on the counter, she was clutching a clump of leather in one hand and a slightly bent knife in the other. Scraps of discarded material lay around her like confetti. Aphel crossed the shopfront and plucked the pouch from her grasping fingers, studying it in disbelief.

“This was a gift from my superior during the second push of the Silithus War. It has silithid chitin sewn into the-”

He was cut off abruptly as she snatched the clump back and began to hack at it once more with the knife, her teeth audibly gnashing. Aphel opened his mouth as if to protest, then relented and leaned back against the counter. Soothingly, as if calming an angry infant, he ran a cool finger down her flaming cheek.

“What is all this about?”

“I’m- makin’ – an hat.”

He was about to automatically correct her grammar, but one look at the murderous light of her eyes changed his mind. Instead, he studied the misshapen brown lump with solemn gravity.

“I think it’s a bit small for your head, darling.”

She snarled up at him soundlessly, drawing her lips back over her teeth like a saber. He continued to smooth her hot cheek, well used to the volatile temper of his lifemate.

“It’s – not for me. S’for Analith. He needs a costume.”

“A costume? For what?”

“The Kaldorei mothers group is staging a childrens’ play. Lunar Love: The Story of Malorne and Elune.

Aphel frowned, glancing up to the first floor balcony where his twenty one month old son slept soundly in the cradle beside his sister.

“He can’t be in a play. He can barely walk and talk coherently, let alone follow a script or stage direction.”

Leafsong gritted her teeth as she made another inexpert slash.

“He is playin’ an acorn. I am making him a little acorn hat. See?”

Aphel nodded in faintly bemused understanding, before gently removing both dessicated pouch and knife from his wife’s clawed fingers. She clung onto them for a moment, then groaned and put her hand over her eyes.

“I’ve been tryin’ to make the bloody thing since teatime. I ain’t even got started on my stock reports yet.”

He kissed her cheek, laying the items down on the counter beyond her reach.

“I’ll make it for you. My father was a tailor, I must have inherited some of the haberdashery genes.”

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3 Responses so far »

  1. 1

    Aphel said,

    Poor An’alith. He’ll be the fattest Acorn in existence.

  2. 2

    Tylandra said,

    You should so arrange for that play to actually happen!!

    • 3

      Leafsong said,

      I KNOW RIGHT???? It would be awesome. Leaf could wear her horned hat and be Malorne. Except she wouldn’t be able to read the script


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