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What if it wasn’t current? Or what if it was a one-time thing?
What if he hadn’t had her consent when he…
The thought makes my teeth lengthen and my nails turn into claws. If I found out someone raped Iris, I’d fucking kill them.
She would have told me.
I’m sure of that.
I sit back, somewhat mollified.
I wouldn’t have to be the baby’s father. If Iris was willing…
Danger.
Suddenly sober, I sit upright. Everything inside me is screaming that there’s danger.
But it’s not me.
Iris.
Something is wrong with Iris.
Chapter 8
Iris
Two days after I find out that I’m pregnant, and I’m finally trying to eat something.
Strangely, the little ermine hasn’t really left my side this whole time. I assume that he’s gone out to hunt, because he’s really not into my plant-based diet, but I’m not sure when. I’ve been sleeping, either actively or kind of dozing, for two days.
Every time I wake up, the little ermine is there.
At this point, I’ve just accepted his presence. You hear about animals sometimes who adopt strange, humanlike tendencies. The little ermine might just be one of those odd cases, where he got put in the wildlife clinic and can’t be re-released into the wild.
Oddly, he’s great company.
And as I get my veggie noodle soup together, I chat with him.
“You know, it won’t be so bad to have a baby,” I say to the ermine.
He shuffles his little feet. His coat is getting more and more white; since it’s November, he’ll be almost fully white soon.
I imagine that his little shuffle is kind of like him saying ‘yes’, so I continue. “I’ve always liked babies. My parents will like to come visit. But I won’t let them like, take over. This is my baby, and I can raise them however I want. Even to love nature as much as I do,” I say, somewhat pleased by the revelation.
The ermine shuffles.
I put the veggies in the soup, then turn to chop some parsley. “Either way, I’m keeping them. I know it’s not going to be fun to do on my own, but I kind of figure it can’t be worse than helping a calf be born. Or a horse, especially if they’re stuck,” I add.
Small feet shuffle in agreement.
I’m definitely not under any illusions about what goes into having a baby. It’s not a walk in the park, by any means. I’ve helped enough animals be born, though, that I kind of have a faith in the whole process.
If my body made this baby, my body can get it out into the world.
The ermine uses one beady black eye to consider what I say, and then his little nose wrinkles.
“My god you’re cute,” I laugh as he shuffles.
