･ﾟ✧ Of ice and Snow ✧･ﾟ

#AURORAdelivers -   exploring themes of finding one's self,  found family,  reconnecting,  navigating a world that doesn't understand you,  control of one’s abilities,  happiness,  dreams,  self doubt,  and the journey to a new chapter.

The morning sun bathed the island village of Norvov in gentle golden light, casting warmth over dew-speckled leaves and the emerald seas. Birdsong curled lazily through the canopies, joined by the hush of waves kissing the shore. Everything felt serene.

Near the village’s sacred pool, where large flora floated like offerings, three Viera stood proudly. The chieftain, Aina, stood tall at the center, her crown of red hibiscus radiant beneath the filtered sun. She carried herself with the watchful eye of a proud protector, overseeing daily life. At her left stood Idunn.

Despite the obvious signs of motherhood, Idunn stood beside the chieftain with a warrior’s pride. Her long red hair was wild and wind-swept, and her sharp eyes scanned the tree line for threats.

Suddenly, she tensed. Her expression shifted. She took a short breath in, leaning forward.

“Chieftain, it’s time,” she murmured, her voice low but certain. A moment later, a rush of water broke at her feet, soaking the moss beneath them.

Aina turned without hesitation, her face unreadable but her body already in motion. She lifted a hand in command and turned toward the Viera standing guard to the right.

“Gather the midwives,” she ordered. “Fetch Thora. The kit is coming.”

The young Viera bolted into the jungle with swift-footed grace, disappearing into the trees. Aina moved to Idunn’s side as the warrior gripped her own wrist and gritted her teeth through the rising wave of pain.

“Come,” Aina said firmly, supporting her friend with both hands. “Let us get you to the healers.”

It had been thirty summers since the birth of a new child on Norvov. The village buzzed—midwives emerged from huts, running with bundles of cloth and clay bowls, preparing the birthing hut as if it were an altar.

Idunn was placed gently upon a raised bed of woven palm reeds. Sunlight poured through the patterned slats of the ceiling, dappling her brow with golden shapes. The air inside was thick with the scent of crushed herbs, burning sage, and fresh rain clinging to the bark. Shell chimes whispered on the breeze. Every element within the hut pulsed with anticipation.

The midwives worked swiftly but calmly. Many hands touched her stomach, laid cool cloths to her forehead, and whispered the soft chants of safe passage. Though pain rippled through her in waves, Idunn kept her composure—her jaw tight, her fists clenched—until a familiar voice broke through the murmuring.

“Oh-ho-ho! She’s finally spitting that one out?”

The village elder, Grandmother Thora, had arrived.

She strode in with seaweed tangled in her gray-streaked locks, bracelets clinking, and a wooden spoon in one hand as if she’d just stepped away from a stew pot. Her smile was as crooked as her lopped ears, her eyes bright as ever.

“You took your time, didn’t you?” she said, crouching at Idunn’s side.

Idunn groaned.

Thora placed a kiss on Idunn’s temple and settled in at her feet with a roll of her sleeves. “Come on now, breathe. Slowly now—it’s just like I taught you.”

Around the elder and her daughter, the midwives moved in practiced rhythm. The chieftain, Aina, stood just behind Idunn’s head, calm and composed, one hand resting on the warrior’s shoulder in silent solidarity. Her presence was an anchor.

Idunn pushed and let out one last war cry—and then, with a rush, the child slipped free, caught in Thora’s waiting hands.

Silence.

Thora held her breath, then gave the babe a gentle rub along the spine.

Then came the sound—a wail, strong enough to shake the rafters and scatter the resting birds outside the hut. The room filled with breath again—laughter, sighs, and a chorus of relief.

“There,” Thora whispered, her voice turning tender as she wrapped the kit in a soft cloth. “Such a fat little thing. You’re going to be so much trouble.”

She placed the newborn onto Idunn’s chest. The moment their skin touched, the kit quieted. Tiny fingers gripped instinctively at her mother’s beads, their breath settling into soft hiccups.

mwauh muwah muwah