Miyara waved wildly at him, both hands aloft.

He ran back. Wisps slithered in the air around him, and when one brushed his cheek he got such a jolt, like a stinging burn, that he yelped.

She called, “Marshal, we don’t know what to do. You have to come.”

He followed her along the narrow path, steadying himself with a hand along the rock wall on his right while water poured past to his left. The mist pelted him, an oddly iron taste on his tongue. They passed out of the spray and into the cave. She halted. A step behind, he stared into the cave, which extended deep into the rock, a haven lit so brightly that he blinked before he saw Mai.

“What do we do?” cried Miyara.

With a plank wedged across and between rocks, they had set up a birthing stool halfway back in the cave, over a hollow smoothed into the cave’s dirt floor. Mai leaned into a cushion made by her folded clothing, but she was herself limned by filaments clustering around and over her as if to smother her. And yet she breathed; she grunted, and Priya said,

“Hold your breath as I say the prayer of opening. Now.” She spoke words in a steady voice, while Mai gripped the edge of the plank and strained.

Priya was her own self, unencumbered, but the filaments traced Mai’s form as if a translucent second skin wrapped her, so that she blazed.

“Here it comes, plum blossom. Look down. Do you see it? This is the head of your child.”

Panting, seemingly oblivious of the threads of light, Mai bent her head to stare down between her legs. Her sweaty face changed expression. “I can’t look!” she cried. And then, “I have to push again!”

“Take in a breath. Hold it.” Priya spilled words Joss did not understand, as Mai pressed her mouth shut and bore down.

Miyara grabbed his elbow. “Quickly! We must weave a blessing. She has no clan to surround her. The child will be cursed if no blessing greets it!”

The hells!

She stamped to begin, and though he had no particular skill, he was like anyone who had heard the chants and songs all his life. He could stumble along in her company.

May the Earth Mother greet you, little flower.

May the Air Mother greet you, little breeze.

May the Fire Mother greet you, little flame.

May the Water Mother greet you, little wave.

From this angle, he could not see beyond Mai’s gleaming body, but as Priya extended her hands to catch the baby as it was born, the threads poured off Mai to fill the hollow until it seemed to burn, drowning the newborn child.

Mai sagged back, reclining against the cloth-draped rock with a gasped sigh.

“Marshal!” cried Priya. “What are these things? Are they living creatures? Or something else? What do we do?”

The baby wailed, and the tendrils spun as though on the strength of that tiny voice and whirled into the air and blinked out. The child ceased crying.