How does a mother feel when she learns of her child’s path? Does she weep at the travails that await, despair at the sorrows that await their prodgency?

Perhaps she’ll find joy in their successes and who they become? Yet how does she feel to know what will be required of her?

Does she doubt her every choice as she makes it, of how her words and actions will affect and shape this little life within her womb?

Indeed, how does it feel for a mother to know of her child's future greatness and not go mad at the cost? I know some days I fear I might…

But as I lay my hands upon my swelling belly I cannot feel ought but gratitude, for this child is one of love, and I will ensure they will know of love before the darkness descends upon them...

                              -Author unknown

4993 A.D. Seventh day of the fifth week of Autumn. Eighth Bell of the Evening, The Five Legged Murgoat…

Sylvia sat in a dimly lit alcove pondering how things had come to this, and how she was going to talk to her appointment without giving away clues to her identity, the specially made flashcards didn’t cover this kind of situation...

……………………………..

Early this morning…..

Sylvia had arrived back at home after her failed excursion, stinking rich and positively hating herself for it.

If it weren’t for the good the gold in her pouch could do she would have tossed it all in the stinking river.

Why had she diverted from her mission of mercy for naught but her pride, stimulated by a perceived challenge?

Not even a real challenge either! Or was it since she had failed? Not important now, Sylvia had neglected her job and failed two people who right now could be free.

Should. Be. Free.

So when Sylvia got home and handed over the pouch to her waiting mother a terrible feeling of shame and inferiority overtook her.

She broke out in tears, thrust herself into her mother's warm embrace and told her everything that had gone so terribly wrong.

Her mother had silently listened while stroking Sylvia’s fur softly, saying not a word in condemnation.

Instead, after Sylvia had finished her woeful tale Anastasia had pulled out a handkerchief and wiped away the tears and snot from both her daughters face and her own chest.

Once cleanliness was ensured she looked her daughter in the eyes and sternly said. “So you messed up, now what are you going to do to fix it?”

Silence descended as Sylvia lowered her heard, running idea’s through her tired brain, and after a while raised her head once more and whispered, “I need to finish the job mum, it’s the right thing to do, I just need to find a way to do it.”

Anastasia let a warm smile spread across her face, “Correct my little muska, now I might have an ide-”

Anastasia cut off her sentence as both calgaree’s heads snapped towards the window, where a brown speckled owl had landed upon the windowsill and stood silently watching them.

Around the owl's neck dangled a card punctured in one corner by a coarse brown string, the cards quality quite at odds with its hanging arrangement.

The mother and daughter duo both twitched their tails in mirrored consternation, who had found them and what did they want? Was this a threat, immediate or postponed?

Anastasia gently disentangled herself from her daughter and slowly approached the owl.

Seeing as it did not fly away or even move its eyes from hers, Anastasia reached down and retrieved the card.

The owl, now freed of its cargo, turned and dropped off the window sill, floating silently back into the night.

Anastasia flipped the card over and glimpsed at its underside, a moment later her ears flattened and she swiftly closed the window shutters and drew the curtain across them.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“Its for you Sylvia.” Anastasia said, her tone cold as she handed the card over.

Sylvia took the card, it was frayed and dirty, but despite its poor condition was made of velum, something Sylvia had only seen in posh noble books she had flicked through on her strolls.

The front was blank apart from some tea stains and an image of a sleeping owl embossed upon it, but flipping it over Sylvia read the fine curly script thereon, "If you need some honest muscle; seek the half elf in the Five Legged Murgoat this evening. Tell him you seek to free miss Gupalagia. He will be both discreet and trustworthy.”

Sylvia looked up in confusion, not over the cards contents, the offer of assistance was as plain as two teenagers visually crushing on each other across a dance floor. No, her confusion came from the who, not the what.

“Mum-” Sylvia began, but cut off as she saw her mother's clear irritation in the way her tail twitched side to side, her iris’s slitted, fluffled fur, and tense muscles.

Anastasia forced herself to relax as she realised she was freaking out her teenage daughter, it was difficult to still herself amidst the unease this unknown player had caused her; but she controlled herself after a few seconds and buried her flaring temper to avoid further upsetting her beautiful daughter.

“Yes my mushka,” Anastasia finally spoke, “this extends the options available to you, I will first check this insignia with our intelligence network to ensure the source is trustworthy. Now I believe you need some sleep, it will do you good, and you will need the energy for tomorrow. I will see to this.”

Anastasia firmly ushered her uncertain daughter to bed and tucked her in securely, retrieving the card and tucking it away, then with a final backwards glance she left the room, closed the door behind her and ventured out into the early morning with many tasks to complete.

………………………………..

Sylvia sat nervously in the alcove, waiting.

Her mother had returned later that morning, far less stressed than she had left, and informed Sylvia that the source of the card was trustworthy.

An old friend of the Calgaree had resurfaced; albeit one not seen in the last two decades.

Apparently the card itself was one of a pack of twelve that the Calgaree council had given to a certain individual many years ago as a boon, and this was the first one to make it back.

Satisfied of it’s reliability, even if she wished her mum would elaborate further Sylvia decided to take the offer and contact the half elf as she could use some good meat hander muscle, which brought to the here and now, idly drawing squiggles on the table with an ale wettened finger from her mug of ale. The mug was just for the look of normality really, she hated the taste, and especially hated the loss of control being tipsy brought.

So when a weird murgoat, mutated into a five legged variant from some mages miscast spell wandered over and nudged her, Sylvia had no qualms about lowering the mug and allowing the animal to relieve her of the contents.

It was only after another half bell of anxious waiting that Sylvia spotted three figures waltz into the establishment, and only once they pulled down their hoods did she spot the half elf accompanied by a dark skinned human and a... dwarf?

She could smell him across the room. Which was saying something considering the room they were in. The dwarf smelt like he had been dunked in the sewers, or perhaps a peat bog, Sylvia switched to breathing through her mouth.

While Sylvia was distracted by her olfactory senses, the three sank into their chairs and proceeded to grouse about basic training while ordering drinks, were they soldiers then? But Sylvia could not pick up any specifics about where their posting was, or their division, the human and half elf seemed to be fiercely arguing with the dwarf though, something about a hell spawned demon that the dwarf was in love with tormenting them all when he brought her wrath down?

Sylvia could not make out the specifics, or understand what she heard, but her gaze drew the half elf’s attention; good, he was at least observant.

Sylvia beckoned him over with a crook of her gloved fingers. The action brought a raised eyebrow but he murmured something to his two companions that caused them to briefly glance at her before ignoring her and leaping back into their debate.

The pretty elf man wandered over, stepping gracefully around tables, barmaids and the wandering murgoat as he approached her.

Sylvia felt her heart quicken as he did, she needed to get this right; lives were at stake and the facts weighed upon her spirit.

The elf drew up the sole unoccupied chair at her table, flipped it around and sat reverse style facing Sylvia, a relaxed look upon his handsome face.

“You seem to have some business with me stranger? What can I do for you?”

Sylvia spoke, trying to keep her voice low and gravelly, inwardly cursing at it’s still too high pitch. “I have some captives to be freed, specifically a certain miss Gupalagia. I heard you shared a similar goal.”

Oh that hit a nerve, Sylvia watched surprise then anger, then curiosity flit fleetingly across the half elf’s face, subtle movements, but her mum had taught her how to read one’s expressions and body language over the years of her growing.

“Do you now?” The half elf finally said, “And where might she be?”

“I can show you,” Sylvia responded, allowing some urgency to leak into her tone, “but we must go, now, I learnt not three hours hence that they mean to move her before the eleventh bell tonight.”

Her voice had squeaked a bit too much it seemed, as the half elf’s eyes narrowed and he asked, “How old are you r-”

“Does it matter?” Sylvia asked, cutting him off before any unnecessary questions were asked. “Will you help me or not?”

The Half elf sighed and pulled on an earlobe as he thought over his answer, then he extended his hand towards her. “Jacques at your service, lets get her out shall we?”

Sylvia gripped his hand in hers, “You may call me ‘The Black Shadow’, now come, we don’t have time to lose.”

“A moment please.” Jacques replied, “I will grab my partner and send for support should we need it, worry not, my companions are as trustworthy as I.”

Sylvia watched as Jacques rose and walked unhurriedly back to his companions, he sat back down and tossed a few coins on the table, whispering a few words to his companions, who to their credit did not glance her way.

The trio did not rise immediately but finished their ales before calmly exiting the establishment in a nonchalant manner.

Sylvia waited five more minutes before paying and leaving herself, and quickly finding Jacques and the smelly dwarf two alleyways over. She had hoped the dwarf would be the one to go for backup, sadly life was far from fair it seemed.

Dropping down from the roof above them Sylvia took pleasure in their surprised reaction before motioning for them to follow her as she slipped from one shadow to the next. They both kept up with her pace, slowed for their benefit as it was, the dwarf surprising her with how light on his feet he was, despite his paunchy girth.