She walked onwards placing one foot carefully in front of the other, fighting the exhaustion that had sunk deep into her bones. She felt as though she had been walking forever, down here in the dank depths below the earth, through the endless hallways.

The corset of her black mourning dress was hindering her pregnant belly uncomfortably, and the dark veil that fell around her face was making it difficult to see in the dim light. But still she continued her journey, not pausing to gaze at the multitudes of tombs lining the walls beside her. She could feel the oppressive weight of the dead crowding in on her, making it difficult to breath, difficult to lift her feet with each footstep.

Finally she saw the end of the caverns, her destination looming up out of the darkness. She paused for a moment to stare ahead of her and then boldly continued. She could not explain why she was here in these cold, dark tunnels, nor what it was she had found. All she knew was that some force was pulling her inexplicably towards the far end of the hall and she could not fight it.

When she finally reached her destination she gazed up at the tapestry that hung above the coffin. She peered at in the light of the two braziers burning brightly on either side of the wooden box. She should have been surprised that it bore her husband’s coat of arms but she was not. The symbol seemed more poignant to her now, the branches tentatively spreading upwards while the roots struggled desperately for firm ground. And now there was only one branch left, her husband’s reaching skyward, the others torn from the trunk and discarded. But there was still hope, the first new growth budding within her.

A feeling of unbearable sorrow descended on her and she fell to her knees, clasping her hands, her head bowed in submission. Tears began to roll down her face, dripping to disappear in the black folds of her dress as though they had never been cried.

She began to pray fervently for the one who lay in the coffin before her, her words coming out between sobs. She did not know who lay there but the grief was so overwhelming she thought she would die, her heart bursting inside her chest with the dreadful feeling.

As her weeping gradually became softer she began to notice a strange sound come from the coffin before her. She rose to her feet as quickly as her swollen figure would allow drawing back in horror as she realised it was the sound of fingernails scraping on the soft wood inside.

A muffled moan came from inside. Dear Gods! she thought. Someone had been locked in there alive, brought down here into the crypts and left alone to die in the frigid depths.

She rushed forward fumbling with the fastenings, trying to drag open the lid with her trembling hands. But it was firmly shut and her fingers began to bleed as the splinters of wood tore shreds off them. She did not notice the pain in her desperation to free the inhabitant, clawing wildly at the box before her.

Without warning the lid flew open as though from a force within. A wave of stench hit her, so foul it caused her to cringe backwards retching. It was unmistakable, the scent of death. She had smelt it before, as a child, when she and Lochan had found a cat that had been dead for weeks trapped in a room beneath the castle. She remembered her disgust at the maggots writhing beneath the poor creatures skin, the dull, milky eyes looking up at her blindly, but most of all the smell of rotting flesh that had made her violently sick. She had been wrong, the body in the coffin could not have been living.

She groaned in dread, her eyes unable to look away from the pale figure lying in the coffin before her. She could not see the girl’s face, its features hiding behind a shock of red hair. She thought she could see a slight twitching in the limbs and wondered a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, if maggots had somehow found their way into the girl’s coffin.

It was not maggots, but the corpse’s fingers which Cindra now noticed were bloody, the fingernails ragged and torn, were moving slightly. She opened her mouth to scream but not sound came forth.

She gasped in her horror as the body slowly began to rise out of the coffin. Cindra gave a strangled sob as the face began turning towards her, the dark red hair began slipping away from it.

She awoke her heart thumping so hard in her chest she though it would break through her ribcage. The baby inside her was kicking at her desperately. She tried to calm herself for its sake, rubbing her belly gently but it was clearly distressed. Thank goodness it had just been a nightmare, she thought. A particularly realistic one though. She quickly checked her hands to make sure there was no blood. No, it had only been a dream. She carefully maneuvered her heavy body out of the bed trying not to wake Garrick. He had been sleeping a lot better these last few nights and she did not want to disturb him.

She paced back and forth in the small room trying to comfort her growing baby and to slow the beating of her heart.

“Cindra”, she heard a drowsy voice calling from the bed. Damn, she had woken him after all.

“Are you alright my love”, he asked pulling back the covers, “is that baby of ours giving you trouble?”.

He stood up and lit the candles then padded over to her.

“Just a little”, she replied, unhappy about the obvious waver in her voice, “We’re alright though. I didn’t want to wake you”.

“That’s alright, I don’t mind”, he said leaning down to rub her belly with his huge hands, “now listen you in there. Stop kicking your mother. She’s not very big remember and I know it is getting a bit crowded in there but it’s not too long now and there will be plenty of room to kick as much as you like when you get out here”.

Cindra couldn’t help but chuckle. Garrick was right, there wasn’t much room and it seemed like she was carrying a rather large baby. Not that it was surprising given the size of her husband. She sighed and rubbed her aching back.

“Here, let me do that for you”, Garrick began to knead her tired back with his strong hands. She could feel the tension melting away beneath his touch. She was so silly to have been upset by that dream. Even if it had been so real. She shuddered as she thought about the twitching figure, the pale face turning towards her.

She turned and threw her tiny body at her husband, desperate to be held in his strong arms where she knew she was safe. He caught her with a grunt, wrapping his muscular arms around her body as she pressed her little face against his warm, hairy chest.

“Well then”, he laughed, “seems someone needed a hug. You just have to ask you know”.

“Now let’s get you back to bed”, he gently untangled himself from her grasp and led her over to the bed.

Once he had settled her in, pulling the blankets over both of them and tucking them carefully around her belly.

“Come over her you silly thing”, he said, pulling he gently towards him and putting his arms around her.

“Do you think you can sleep again now”, he asked, kissing her softly on the tip of her upturned nose.

“I don’t know”, she replied, her voice still trembling slightly, “Garrick will you hold me”.

And so he did and she laid her head on his chest, burying her face in the wiry red hair that flowed down his shoulders. She stayed there listening to him whisper to her in the dark, his fingers gently stroking her arm, until sleep finally found her again in his warm embrace.