Welcome, you’ve stumbled onto part 6 of The Tori Story Series. If this is the first time you have visited this realm you might want to get caught up.

“Stop.” Hannah commanded, sticking her head out the small window when the carriage approached the bend. She opened the door herself, impatient, stood on the top step and waited for Patrick.

With her right hand she shielded her eyes from the bright early spring sun. Already, it was too hot for the heavy garments she wore and she was very much looking forward to shedding them. Maybe she would even enjoy a refreshing swim in the water hole near Tori’s cabin.

Hannah held her swollen belly with her left hand, absentmindedly rubbing it in an effort to comfort the new life growing inside.

I assure you the baby needed no comfort. The bumpy ride had brought it great delight, although I can’t say the same for Hannah. If fate would allow this new bundle a full and long life, he may very well have invented the first thrill ride Andor had ever seen. You know, the tall rickety kind that only the bravest dare ride at the local fair.

For this child was conceived of greatness and had all the makings of one who would accomplish great and mighty things. And such a carnival ride would indeed be great and mighty because Andor was so primitive and new.

So much unbridled possibility.

But that was not to be his destiny, at least not yet.

Another life maybe.

As she dismounted the carriage, Hannah leaned on Patrick’s arm and when she gained the ground, she smiled up at him. Her smile lit up the world around her. It always had.

Patrick kissed the dimple on her right cheek.

“I’ll take it from here.” She said releasing her hold on his arm and wobbling off down the path.

Patrick didn’t object. He knew better. Hannah was strong and bull headed. Not spoiled, how can you be spoiled when you grow up with nothing? But in control, very much used to getting her way. Thirty five years and nothing changed. Patrick adored her as only a protective older brother can, having experienced the loss of five other siblings. Like mother, like daughter.

Patrick, the first born and Hannah, the last. Seven pregnancies, two children. And Hannah lived only to trade places. A life for a life.

An avalanche of unfortunate events crushed their family one right after another. The Invasion, the rape, the civil war, Father forced to war, the flood that destroyed the summer crops, the pestilence that decimated Andor, the difficult winter and then… Mother was broken already, a hollow shell of a soul, how much more could she possibly take?

None, because when news of Father’s death reached her ears, it proved too much.

Immediately her spirit left, though her heart still beat. And that only long enough to give birth.

Had Hannah cried before Mother breathed her last? No. Patrick thought. Because surely if Mother had heard the sweet soft cry it would have given her reason to live.

Patrick, only eight, cherished Hannah. She was all he had. He clung to her, never letting her out of his sight and swore to care for and protect her with his life.

Would he have made that promise if he had known it would come to that? Especially if the threat to Hannah was a complete misunderstanding?