The next morning, the sky was pale and thin. Frost clung to the edges of stone and grass, sparkling faintly as the sun struggled to rise.
Inside the village, smoke began to rise from simple stone stoves.
Isabella yawned and stretched lazily.
The bed beside her was already empty. She could hear faint noises from outside, Zyran laughing loudly about something, Cyrus's calm voice, and other males' footsteps.
They were never calm in the morning.
She rubbed her belly in a circle.
The little ones inside seemed to be sleeping soundly.
She slowly got up, washed her face with warm water from a stone basin, and changed into a thicker fur dress that the women had made for her.
When she stepped out, the cold air brushed against her cheeks.
"Goddess, good morning!"
"Good morning, Goddess!"
Several villagers who were passing by greeted her excitedly. Their gazes unconsciously drifted toward her belly.
Isabella waved her hand. "En. Morning."
