When the labour began the pain was more intense than anything Autumn had ever imagined. Nothing could be more brutal, not whips or chains. Is there anything more isolating than intense pain? Doesn't pain lock us in as effectively as any prison?
The pain of labour was a prison for her mind. In that jail cell of fear and confusion the time passed without her being able to keep track. Her stomach tightened, she heard her own scream without being aware of making it. The light of the sun was effectively going away as Merlin was becoming panicked now. He had not thought really that this would be the day that he would have to face such a turmoil. He did not even know what he needed to do. So he helped Autumn reach the car and helped her lay back in the seat as she kept on groaning and crying out
