(Nova POV)
Month eight felt like standing on the edge of a cliff with the wind already pushing at my back.
My belly was heavy now — round and low, the skin stretched tight and shining with the constant soft silver glow that leaked from the child's light. Every step reminded me I was carrying something powerful. The Braxton Hicks had started weeks ago — those strange, tightening waves that came and went like practice breaths — but tonight they felt different. Sharper. Longer. Real enough that my heart stuttered every time one gripped me.
I was in the solar, pacing slowly in front of the tall windows because lying down made the pressure worse. The night outside was clear and cold, stars sharp as glass above the ridge. Lanterns still glowed in the bailey below — remnants of the pack festival from last week — and the faint sound of laughter drifted up, warm and ordinary.
Another tightening rolled across my abdomen.
