Was there someone there, waiting, who would receive the tiny released twin?
Would it grow up Elsewhere, not knowing, ever, that in this community lived a being who looked exactly the same?
For a moment he felt a tiny, fluttering hope that he knew was quite foolish.
He hoped that it would be Larissa, waiting. Larissa, the old woman he had bathed.
He remembered her sparkling eyes, her soft voice, her low chuckle.
Fiona had told him recently that Larissa had been released at a wonderful ceremony.
But he knew that the Old were not given children to raise.
Larissa’s life Elsewhere would be quiet and serene as befit the Old;
she would not welcome the responsibility of nurturing a newchild who needed feeding and care, and would likely cry at night.
“Mother? Father?” he said, the idea coming to him unexpectedly, “why don’t we put Gabriel’s crib in my room tonight?
I know how to feed and comfort him, and it would let you and Father get some sleep.”
Father looked doubtful. “You sleep so soundly, Jonas. What if his restlessness didn’t wake you?”
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