Lavinia had never really seen merit in the way her husband's society seemed to find names for young people irrelevant. She had been treated like a nonentity all her childhood, and after ruminating on the problem for hours during her labor, she came to the conclusion that she would be damned if any child of hers went through the same thing if she could help it.
And now he was finally here, his fists and toes still slightly bluish, with only two defenses in the world - his cry and those big eyes that peered straight into the depths of a watcher's soul. The midwife who delivered the baby had said that sometimes the eyes would change color later on. But regardless of the color, the eyes of a baby don't lie, she'd said.
"They look out into the world, every moment a new one. Past wrongs, past mistakes, past pain, all to be erased the moment those eyes close, and when they open, a fresh slate. That doesn't last forever. But for now, it is that way, because they're trying to say, 'Don't worry about the past. What matters is now. And that means - take care of me, and take care of yourself.'"
They hadn't understood the midwife's words at the time, but now, a few hours after their son had been born, they did. Holding the baby in her arms, his eyes now shut as he snuggled with arms hugged tight against her bosom, all Lavinia wanted to do was protect him, to keep him safe from the inevitable ills and dangers of the world. She knew, of course, that she could not. But she could try.
"You're right, Lavinia," her husband conceded, putting an arm around his wife as she nursed the baby. "You've got me convinced. I never really agreed with the whole nameless way I grew up. I wouldn't want the same for my son. Besides, I know of a nice place south of here where we can live. Fresh start for both of us. It won't matter there."
And so it came to pass that the son of Lavinia and the hunter was named Logan, a name that his parents had always favored. Logan did not learn the tale of how his parents met until many years later, long after they were gone. But even early on, he always knew that they were already proud of the man he would become, which is probably the best gift they could have given him. But his is a story for another time, as it is recorded elsewhere. For now, let us return to his parents before we finish this tale.
The hunter, muscles aching and eyes weary from standing vigil during the long labor, watched his wife's head nod and eyes droop, as she, in an exhaustion likely several times greater than his, finally succumbed to slumber. The hunter smiled, lifting the now sleeping baby from her bosom. Lavinia woke momentarily and winced as made her way over to the bed, smiling in her pain and fatigue as she lay down. The hunter swaddled his son before setting him beside Lavinia in the bed. He glanced out the window, where the full moon that had been his companion during those long weeks glowed like a white orb. A hunter's moon.
The snort of a buck startled the hunter, and he was surprised to see that very same majestic albino prance to within a few feet of the window and gaze inside. Unlike before, there was no shimmer to its coat, which was, nonetheless, remarkable and would have fetched a high price. The hunter stared into the eyes of the animal that he had hunted, and the buck stared back.
"Hello, it's been awhile, hasn't it? You're a wily one, my friend. Go and run free. There'll be no hunting tonight."
The hunter's eyesight had returned to normal when the spell had broken, so it was hard to tell in the darkness, but the hunter thought he could see a nod of the deer's head.
"Maybe I'll see you again, maybe not. I think I've had enough of hunting you, or that mirage of you, to last a lifetime. If this is the last time, take care."
The deer touched an antler to the window and ran off, hooves beating against the earth. When it reached the end of the path, it stopped and turned back, silhouetted against the moon. There it stared back at the hunter for a moment before running into the night. It was then that the hunter finally knew the hunt was over, and he breathed a sigh of relief. And so the darkness of the long night gave its last bleary-eyed blink, yielding to the rays of a new day.
Thank you for reading this story!
If you enjoyed it and are curious to know more, join the The Thirteenth Hour our mailing list to get a free audio podcast on the creation of this story and the making of the hunter's bow (pictured below):
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In addition, you may be interested in the following works set in the same world:
The Thirteenth Hour - the tale of Logan, the son of Lavinia and the hunter.
"Falling Leaves Don't Weep: A Thirteenth Hour Epilogue" - set several decades after the events of The Thirteenth Hour.
Your Star Will Glow Forever - a picture book with images from The Thirteenth Hour about stars, hope, and the love parents have for their children.
For more information, please visit the companion site for these stories at https://13thhr.wordpress.com.
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