She was so pregnant — she could no longer hide it, and people commented. And her sleep, always dubious, was worse. During the day, when she was alone, she talked to the baby and asked them what they thought about things. They were friends with Yorick. They enjoyed the sea. They had not given her any tips as to picking names, and they had not stopped disrupting her sleep.

The pains felt like she was cramping; infrequent, and they didn't stop. She'd tolerated them in bed for a while, but finally one of them caused her to swear under her breath. (Well — she thought it was under her breath until Alfred touched her arm.)

Something felt — wrong. Or it felt like something, and she hadn't been prepared for something to happen.

"Something's happening," Zelda admitted, a little strained.

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