There's soft kicking from inside your body, a weird, not fluttering feeling that reminded you that there was indeed something living with you. In your own womb, to be exact.

The thought of pregnancy used to terrify you, with distant dreams and ambitious goals for the future— never have you thought that you'd be stuck in a very specific predicament while being stranded in the fucking woo-woo woods.

In winter.

The morning sickness was manageable, you could barely get by from scraps of bear meat as it is. There would be nothing to throw up in the first place, and it initially frustrated you— but you knew others would need to eat their share, too.

Though, the problem with food was backed up with your closest companion, Lottie, offering you some of her share. As if their portions weren't dire as it is.

She'd insist, even with your protests. Saying, "It's for you and our baby, to stay healthy."

You almost wanted to laugh at the implication that there's a possibility that they'd be 'healthy' after this, but Lottie looking out for you in one of the only ways she can— it was touching. She'd give up her own portions just for you and your baby.

Sure, initially, the others were looking at the two of you quite weirdly. With how Lottie's stares linger longer at you as you eat, and you looking at her for help every time that you need it. There's just this, unspoken connection that was stressed under dire circumstances such as their entire time out here.

If this happened without the bloody crash, neither of you would care for each other as deeply as this.

"Are you feeling okay?" As if she could read your thoughts, the tall, heavily clothed girl caught a whiff of your bad mood once again. She sits down next to you by the porch, seeing you palm your growing stomach. It was hurting, frankly.

"Is our baby being fussy?" Lottie asks, with deep, dark eyes almost playful when she asks that. But her hand is settled atop yours, trying to soothe you, and the baby.

Our baby.