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“She has lost a lot of blood. Are you sure the kid is still alive?”

The voice picks at my senses and slowly, I awaken, but my eyes remain closed. Even in my groggy state, Ruarc’s voice couldn’t be missed.

“Yes brother. It’s unbelievable, I know but it’s the truth. Her kid is healthy, fine and growing at an alarming rate.

Izal. So, I’m in the infirmary and not a mortuary. Great.

Note the sarcasm.

“What do you mean?”, Ruarc asks, confused and I can imagine him furrowing his brows as he tries to make sense of Izal’s words.

“Her pregnancy is just three weeks old but she’s growing a bump.”

“Why do you sound surprised? Icelanders are known for growing up fast.”

“A pregnant Icelander or a woman pregnant for an Icelander doesn’t show off her bump until a month or two has passed. Crinka is just three weeks into her pregnancy and she is already growing a bump. Something just doesn’t add up.”

“It’s possible that she’s just blessed.”

“In my line of work, there’s no such thing as being blessed. Yo