He turned to Dayna. She held the baby in her arms, and gazed at him. The old midwife leaned behind her looking upwards. He walked forward and held out his hand. Calmly he moved the cloth from the child’s face. There should have been a face. But what looked at him was only an abomination.There was silence, in the forest and from the group, and breath tried to escape from the twitching child, it moved its head slightly, its arms and legs. Its fingers clutched its cheeks and its head, its body. The child was made of gold.Although it was no ornamental metal, it writhed and moved, porous skin. It covered the thing, which had no eyes, no mouth, no nostrils. An incomplete creation. A slight against the gods. He raised his blade to strike the creator and the midwife raced forward and grabbed the blade, nearly severing his own hand. He pulled it away and watched as the girl covered it again.“What is that thing?”“It is my friends’ child.”“It does not breathe?”“It breathes look!” She uncov
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