"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." She sobbed. Emma clutched at her abdomen, seeing the dead infants in her mind's eye. She felt her hair ruffling and stiffened. The stag had come over to sniff her hair.
"What are you? You have the smell of a god on you, and you are with child, are you not? I do not hurt the innocent, little one, fear not." The stag's voice had gentled and Emma looked up briefly, but bowed her head.
"I am what they call an Innate. I have the ability to communicate with your kind. I have been Claimed by an old god of the Pagans. My blood kin made a Pact with him many generations ago. It is his child I carry." Emma said softly.
"You're not like the others are you? You don't fear me because of what I am. You fear me because you recognize I have a right to be angry."
