Jena sat on the throne in the sun holding their newborn infant in her arms against her chest, his head of dark hair standing out in contrast against her fair skin. It didn't matter how different they might look, Jabone was her son. He looked up at the sky his eyes bright, and so perfect, so alert, in that moment content to just let her hold him. He made a happy noise, looked at her face and smiled.
Tarius walked over to them carrying a pheasant which she threw on the ground close to the fire. She was so young, so perfect, and when she caught Jena's eyes Jena could feel her love flow through her. Tarius walked over to them and kissed her on the cheek. Then she ran her hand over Jabone's head. Her hand looked huge against his tiny scalp. Her hand, so gentle, scared with a dozen sword cuts from as many different battles. She wore a wide leather bracelet with an eagle tooled into it that Jena had made her for her birthday.
Everything was perfect and then Jabone screamed out in pain, not the screams of an infant but the screams of a grown man in pain and then the whole world was dark and into the darkness she watched in horror as Jabone's sword fell at her feet broken in two pieces.
Jena jerked into a sitting position, wide awake and remembering every aspect of her dream she caught herself just short of screaming. Outside the sun was just rising.
Tarius looked up at her. "Baby what's wrong?"
Tarius, older but still perfect. Their son wasn't an infant any more he was a grown man and . . . "Tarius get up." Jena did even as she said it and started to get dressed. "We must go to the Jethrik. Our son needs us."
Tarius didn't ask why Jena thought this she didn't question her. She got up and dressed in such a hurry she actually left the hut without her boots or breakfast. Once outside she called for the whole of the Marching Night and started giving orders fast and furious.
By nightfall she had left Jerrad in charge of the Katabull Nation and had loaded all of the Marching Night and all their horses onto five ships and they weighed anchor and left for the port of Sagal in the Jethrik-held territories of the Amalite. Only when they had pulled away from the dock did Tarius take the time to ask her.
"Jena what have you dreamt?"
"I dreamt our baby cried and then his sword was broken."
Tarius didn't roll her eyes or say she couldn't believe she had overreacted in this way. She just nodded her head, put a reassuring hand on Jena's shoulder and said, "We will get there in time, my love. Our son will be fine."
Jena nodded then turned to embrace Tarius. "And if I have brought us on a wild goose chase and our son is fine and we only serve to embarrass him and his friends?"
"Then we will tend to these Amalite," she and Jena both spit on the deck, " raiding parties ourselves and pretend like that is the only reason we have come," Tarius said with a shrug. "When it concerns our son I'd rather overreact a hundred times than not react and be wrong only once."