Chapter 14 – The Last Stand
Laura hit the ground hard. Dirt and splinters bit into her palms. For a breath she knelt there, chest heaving, the world tilting around her like a broken cartwheel. The gust from the last impact stung — a roaring pain that hammered through her ribs.
Joshua saw her fall and let out a high, thin cry — the tiny keening of a child. It was a sound small enough to be swallowed by the night but sharp enough to slice through the chaos. The midwife clutched him closer, rocking in a useless rhythm, lips moving in frantic prayers she didn't finish.
Through blurred vision, Joshua watched his mother on her knees. Blood beaded at the corner of her mouth; dirt streaked her face. Her breath came in ragged pulls, but when she turned and looked at him, exhaustion and resolve collided and formed a frighteningly calm stare.
She stood.
It was a slow, terrible rising. Every movement carried the weight of a promise. Her hands trembled, not with fear, but with the steady fury of someone who had decided what mattered most — and had chosen it without hesitation.
I will not let them touch Joshua, she thought, each pulse of pain sharpening her vow.
If I must die to stop them, then die I will. Not him. Not my son.
She raised her blade. It flashed once in the moonlight, a tired star. Her knees wobbled, her legs protested, but her shoulders squared. She moved forward like a mother possessed by a goddess, driven by a single, iron truth: keep the child alive.
The attackers closed in like wolves answering a call. They flowed around her in a dark ring — three, then four shadows, each stepping into a slot in a dance choreographed for blood. Their strikes came swift, practiced. They tasted weakness and surged.
Laura fought with the last of what was left in her — a flurry of parries and counters, a lightning step, a half-spin that sent one of them sprawling. She moved with skill enough to shame trained soldiers; every cut was measured, every block deliberate. Pain flared in her side but she answered it with more motion, more ferocity.
But there were too many.
One caught her arm and drove her against a fence post. Another slammed into her ribs with a blunt strike. The world spun. She tasted iron and cold soil. Still she pushed forward, still she drove them back, but gradually the space closed, the blows multiplied, and the air filled with the sick rhythm of her body taking hit after hit.
Joshua watched. His little chest squeezed, tiny hands curling into fists. He wanted to reach out, to move, to do anything, but his body was small and useless. Tears pooled in the corners of his eyes and spilled down his cheeks, warm and helpless. He pressed his face into the midwife's shawl as the world narrowed to one central terror: his mother being broken in front of him.
I have never felt so useless in my lives.
I can't do anything to help
I have twenty four blessings and an angel gift. I also have the blessing of my creator
Why can't i do anything
Please Lord, help me
I need your help
He said as he closed his eyes and prayed for the first time since his arrival in this world.
Then a light stirred in him as he searched deeper