Wenesday, August 10th, 1870 — Part II

Dear Diary:

I find it necessary to reveal the events, following Lady Wytchwood’s fainting spell, of the aforementioned evening. Dana carried the lady upstairs. Dr. Hyde hurried close on her heels (or should I say dew claws?) In order to attend to Kylerra during what we all certainly feared would be a premature labor. I rose and moved toward the door. What use could the doctor and wolves have for an inexperienced woman like myself? If I could not help, I resolved that I should at least keep out from underfoot.

Before I could depart, Danyell called my name in the gruff growl of the Alpha. At first I protested, insisting quite vociferously that he go tend to his wife. He paced his office in a wild, agitated manner, asking ridiculous questions like “Who is the father?” Appalled, I chided him for slandering his wife’s impeccable character during such a time. I may have stomped my foot. I might also have sworn an oath. I could not believe the brute would dare to impugn Kylerra’s character while she suffered at his… well, it is his fault, is it not? Let us, for the sake of nicety, leave it at that.

At length, I found my dear friend kneeling. As beseeching an expression as ever graced a pup’s face stared up at me. His eyes sought mine. Overhead, Dana began to sing a calming Elvish lullaby. Kylerra shrieked and moaned intermittently, but seemed to settle somewhat. Indeed, it seems likely that magic may have played a part, for all of the house’s inhabitants and guests later reported having experienced a lulling sensation more substantial than that which one might normally expect to arise from the singing of a simple song.

“My sister,” Danyell pleaded.

Actually, I don’t remember his exact words. I remember he said something about failing me. He mentioned drawing upon his heightened werewolf senses. And he detailed a great number of highly flattering qualities which he so naively attributes to me. He invited me into his family. It was all very complicated. I don’t remember the bulk of it, dear Diary, for my mind seemed fixed upon a single salient point: he informed me that I am, ahem…

I blush even to write it! I cannot think of a proper way to do so. Indeed, no proper language exists which can, with delicacy, impart the nature of Danyell’s revelation. Shall I say I fell victim to an occupational hazard?

Danyell and I sat together for some time before Kylerra’s condition worsened and necessity drew him to her side. He is a dear boy, albeit a little silly, to have thought to comfort me during his wife’s distress. Perhaps he required the distraction? At any rate, he insisted that I verify with his physician at a later date, and I went home to ponder my fate.

Oh, Diary! I always wanted a child, but I wanted a husband first. Now, I’ve gone and made my firstborn a bastard. What ever shall I do? If my living situation afforded me any degree of privacy, I might easily procure medication that promises to relieve feminine complaints.

With so many wolves about, however, my condition is practically embazoned across my chest in bold, scarlet letters.

I don’t know what to do. Egads! What shall I do? How stupid was I to think that a little sponge soaked in vinegar would undermine nature? I suppose it is gratifying that my friends have not abandoned me. Perhaps this is a good time to sail abroad for a twelvemonth?

Your Distraught,

–Miss Palabra Puddlegum–

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One Response to Wenesday, August 10th, 1870 — Part II

  1. Miss D Ember says:

    Ohmy. Miss P.
    Do let me know if there is something I might do to make your time less strenuous.

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