Katana and Stephan had returned to the bedroom. Eyela was standing on the far side of the bed. There was a magic in her eyes that Katana believed could bring the most frozen heart back to life. He could understand why she was queen. The last true descendant of the ancient royal family. He could see that in her eyes. In the way she carried herself. Eyela had simply looked down at the bed, at Gentle Breeze.
Gentle Breeze rested on the bed. In a sitting position. With a newborn girl in her arms. Katana cried tears of joy. And thanked the spirits of life for the gift of their daughter. Gentle Breeze had then held up the child, motioning Katana to hold her. Katan had done so. Gently, and carefully lifting their daughter. Holding her against his shoulder. Letting her head rest there. She was so tiny. So fragile.
Katana knew that being a Father was a big responsibility. Taking care of his lady, and his daughter. Watching her grow. Teaching her about the world. And the people in it. Teaching her how to live. Watching her learn of life. A big responsibility. But one he looked forward to.
He held his daughter for a while. Enthralled by how delicate she looked. Such tiny hands. With tiny fingers. He thought she had the cutest feet he’d ever seen. Like little doll feet. With such cute little toes. He studied every detail of her. He sat on the edge of the bed, with his Gentle Breeze. And they held their daughter together.