Braeden muttered another curse as he trudged through the snow; his dark skin and his dark pelt, accompanied by his bright hair, weren't exactly helping him to blend into the utterly white surroundings. The snow was still falling thick and fast. Fat snowflakes stuck to the centaur and clung to his eyelashes until it was hard to see more than a few feet in front of him; even if that doe was nearby, he wouldn't be able to see her now.
  Typical female. Leading me off into the woods with those big eyes and then making herself scarce as soon as it gets too dangerous…
  One of his dark legs sank into a patch of snow which was much deeper than it looked. His attempt to grasp onto something supportive led to nothing more than him pulling an unbelievably large amount of the cold, wet substance on top of his head via a slippery branch.
  Sod the herd and sod the deer along with it!
  SNAP.
  Immediately, he stilled. Not even the need to shiver from the bitter cold could force him to move now. No deer was large enough to make a noise that loud, nor was a deer large enough for him to hear it breathing. In this forest, it could be any form of creature, and one had to be on their guard; wolves often hunted in the winter months, driven desperate enough by hunger to try and hunt a centaur.
  But Braeden was a good hunter and a skilled fighter. Whatever it was behind him, if he was quick enough then he could simply turn around and fire an arrow through its gut. Slowly, he raised an arm until his dark fingers clasped an arrow from his pack and, with a final exhalation for courage, he span to meet the creature behind him…
  And found a human woman, knee deep in the snow, where the fearsome creature should have been.
  He stared at her with a speechlessness much unlike his own; this woman was alone, not wearing sufficient clothing to keep her warm, and injured judging by the pain on her face as she stumbled, bent over double. It was only when both of her arms, tinged blue from the cold, pressed themselves against her middle that he noticed the firm roundness of her belly.
  This woman, freezing cold and weak, was with child.
  What kind of man would let his pregnant wife go out into the cold alone, wearing nothing but a thin dress and the skin on her feet? Humans could be just as cruel to each other as they could to other species.
  What did it matter anyway? This woman was no responsibility of his, nor did Braeden feel the need to come to her aid. Everyone knew that human beings were nasty creatures. The woman was probably evil, nothing more than a curse. But when he turned his back to her so that he could return home, something miraculous happened.
  He heard her stumble once more and fall; worn out and defeated by her own determination to get to warmth and safety. Then, he heard her whimper; a sound so heartbreakingly soft that he felt as though he had just heard a woman for the first time.
  Without his mind's compliance, his head turned so that he could observe her from over his shoulder. He was met with the sight of two beautifully green eyes staring back at him. For a moment, the two simply stared at one another, and Braeden had time to marvel over how alike her face was to the women of his tribe, even when it was smeared with dustings of snow.
  She clutched at her stomach, and those green eyes locked themselves tightly away behind her eyelids.
  Moments before, there had been tenderness there; he had seen it. The same look the mothers of his own people obtained when they petted their swollen abdomens or brushed their fingers through their children's hair. That child. That human child currently living in the warm confines of her womb… was it aware that its innocent life would soon meet a premature end if its mother were not to find sanctuary?
  Were humans innocent when they were born?
  The blizzard continued, as did his indecision. If he didn't return home soon he might get lost; getting lost in weather like this often proved fatal. All he could see through the snow were her red curls, half fallen from the graceful bun atop her head. In his mind's eye, he saw himself returning to this spot tomorrow; her red hair hidden by a blanket of fresh snow, her rounded body still and nothing more than a misshapen white mound, and those beautifully green eyes closed forever.
  He sighed, waded through the snow, and hoisted her into his arms.

~*~

To say that Braeden had acquired some strange looks when he returned was an understatement.
  He was renowned for his hatred of humans; the last one to cross into their territory had met a quick and bloody end at the point of his spear. Now here he was bringing a human woman, in need of aid, to their territory.
  The majority of Braeden's people did not care for humans, but none of them dared to oppose his actions as he took the woman through to one of the several healing huts. Nen, his healer, had been surprised by the sight, but the look on Braeden's face was one not to be meddled with. So it was wordlessly that the Water Elemental stepped aside to allow his herd leader into the warmth; his human companion carefully clutched in his dark arms.
  As was expected in such cold weather, there was already a roaring fire waiting for them when they stepped inside; quaintly burning in the centre upon its bed of tinder. Beside it sat Ephra, one of Aedus's young apprentices; her red tunic boldly stood out among the calm blues and healing turquoises of the hut, but a Fire Elemental could always be found beside an indoor fire. It was their job to ensure the flames didn't get out of hand, and it was good training for young ones such as Ephra.
  She withdrew her hands from the flames on Braeden's entry, and her mouth fell open at the sight of the woman in his arms. A moment later she was concentrating on the fire once more; Braeden's steel grey stare was all the more terrifying when it was directed at you.
  Silently Nen eased the woman, now writhing and groaning, from Braeden's arms and onto the soft accumulation of blankets and pillows in the corner. Despite the fact that she was freezing her face was red, and although he wasn't a healer even Braeden could make out the cold sweat that had broken out on her forehead. Nen's lips curled into a grimace as he placed one of his cool hands against her clammy brow. She was not looking good.
  Oddly enough, Braeden felt a pang of worry in his stomach, as though he had misplaced his footing in the dark, and felt subsequently betrayed by his body. He had rescued this woman, and therefore his good deed for the day was done; he couldn't possibly start to care for her as though she were an ally…
  This was so frustrating! Was this some sort of punishment from Arethusa? Had the Water Goddess chosen to force some sort of peace on him by placing a human - two humans! - at his mercy? He hated humans! He despised them all, no matter what form they took. Whether they were children; adults; male; female – it didn't matter! He hated them all!
  Why should this one be any different?
  Straightening up, he tore his eyes away from her and gave Nen a nod of his head. The healer could take it from here; his part in this woman's story was over. Nen gave an awkward nod of his own head in return, and while his leader turned to leave he cast his new patient a nervous glance and gulped, cleansing his shaking hands in a bowl of warm water. He'd never had to treat a human before.
  Braeden felt a sudden tug on his tunic, and his attention was pulled back to the panting woman on the pillows. Her eyes pulled on his. Green met grey. This woman was alive, and within her was another life that had yet to blossom; a life that she so wanted to keep safe and nurture. Her pale fingers clung tightly to the purple material of his clothes, and Braeden found himself swallowing nervously as he took a step towards the small, makeshift bed of cushions and blankets and cautiously knelt by the woman's side.
  For the first time since he had rescued her, he caught the hint of a smile on her face as one of her clammy hands clutched at his own, and Braeden found himself answering his own question.
  Because… Because she needs me. They both need me. To her, I could have been death; instead, I am life.
  Braeden had never had any desire to be near a female while she was in the throes of childbirth; their screeches hardly sounded inviting, and he was certain he would make a useless birthing partner. He was more likely to inform the impending mother that she had better toughen up rather than offer her his sympathy. This woman, on the other hand, was not in the best of health and so he couldn't find it in himself to lose his patience with her; not to mention the only sounds she made were low, gut-wrenching groans that strained her throat and left her red-faced and panting.
  She trembled and clung to his hand. He brushed her hair from her face and waited.

~*~

It was in the early hours of the morning, while Artemus, the Goddess of Darkness, still had her hand outstretched in the sky, that the first cries of a newborn child rang out from the dimly lit hut and, with a soft tinkle, disturbed a row of dripping icicles on a nearby branch. Immediately, the physical ties between the child and her mother were severed, and the newborn was wrapped in a thick, woollen blanket to protect her from the bitter cold outside.
  Braeden had never seen anything so astonishing before; he had witnessed a child coming into the world and taking her first breath of air. He had, for the very first time, seen life.
  The screaming, red-faced babe was placed in the waiting arms of her equally red-faced mother. Her crying lessened into little squawks of disapproval as her mother's trembling fingers petted the auburn wisps of her hair, and ceased altogether when her searching mouth latched onto a waiting breast. While the newborn hungrily guzzled for sustenance, Braeden watched as the woman he had rescued mere hours before rested her weary head on the pillows and released a shaky sigh.
  Once Nen had finished washing the blood from his hands he tentatively approached Braeden's side, and the two centaurs watched the newborn and her mother in bewildered silence; entirely influenced by the sudden feeling of anti-climax. The child had been safely delivered and now she was nursing as innocently as any newborn centaur. What else should he have really expected? Braeden still felt as though he should expect the worst, whatever the worst might be.
  Something in Nen's blue eyes confirmed his fears and, with just one more glimpse of the infant's pink face, he rose from his crouched position on the floor. He grimaced and gave each of his dark legs a stretch to ward off the cramp that was threatening to strike, hooking his fingers around the healer's upper arm so as to pull him away from the small family and retreat into a quiet corner where they could talk.
  "Well? You look as though you're hesitating to say something important," Braeden stated, as Nen began to wither beneath his gaze.
  "I… She is very sick," the healer finally murmured, chancing a glance at his leader's stoic face. "I don't know how long she was lost in the snow for, but if you had not found her when you did she would be dead now; her and the child both." Braeden's grey eyes were drawn back to the mother and her babe on the pillows, where they observed, for the first time, the harsh and shallow nature of each of her breaths.
  The baby was feeding. Her mother was dying. It was as though as the child suckled, she was taking the very life from the woman who had brought her into the world. Demetrius was at work here, the Earth God gave life and he took life away. It was his job to keep the balance; where one thing falls, another surely grows.
  "Humans are weaker than we are," Nen explained. "We are born with the natural capabilities to survive in the winter, but humans rely on more than just their skin to protect them from the cold. Perhaps, if it had just been her, she would have more of a chance, but her body had the child to deliver. She is much too weak. A woman in her condition should not have been outside in weather like this in the first place; especially not alone." He exclaimed, giving his shy head a rueful shake. That was something Braeden certainly had to agree with; he longed to know why it was that she was on her own, but the poor woman was simply too weak to talk, and now, close to death as she was, it would be cruel of him to start questioning her. These moments with her daughter were precious.
  As Nen launched into another tirade about the uselessness of human males, Braeden tuned himself out of the rant in favour of watching the new mother, whose breathing was becoming less frequent by the minute. Ignoring the Water Elemental, who had begun to busy himself with scrubbing a few specks of blood from his tunic, he quietly returned to the new mother and knelt by her side. The child had since finished her first, and last, feed, and her fresh, bright eyes seemed to bore into Braeden's very soul; he observed her for a moment or so, unable to tear his eyes away from her peacefully pink face, until a soft utterance escaped her mother's lips.
  When he looked at the woman he had rescued once more, he came across those beautifully green eyes one last time. She was still too weak to say a word, but she managed another gentle grunt as she raised her quivering arms and, with a single tear, delivered her child into the clumsy hands of her saviour.
  Braeden was too bewildered to object and displayed an awkwardness, akin to that of a new father's, as he nestled the miniature human into the safe crook of his arm. What was he expected to do? How could he possibly help a child that was not of his own species? His herd would think he had gone mad! Or, even worse, they would think him soft. But as he looked down at the child, who had yet to cry and who was now beginning to fall asleep in his arms, he knew what had to be done.
  This child had always been destined for his care. It was the work of the Gods, and when the Gods sent you a blessing, you did not ask why it was sent.
  The babe's mother smiled the gentlest of smiles, feebly pulled a cotton handkerchief from the sleeve of her dress and pressed it into Braeden's hand. The centaur peered down at the gift; his eyes catching sight of two lilac letters embroidered on the fabric.
  M.E…
  "M.E," he murmured aloud to himself, glancing from the token to the child. "M.E… Emmy. Yes. You shall be Emmy. Winter's daughter."
  Braeden pressed a kiss to the child's head, while Emmy's mother looked on; with a contented sigh, those beautifully green eyes closed forever.