"Harald." Sarandia grinned broadly. "The baby is kicking."
He put his hand on his love's belly and felt the kicks.
"A good strong son," he said.
"Or a good strong daughter." She covered his hand with hers.
"I don't know what is more annoying." Rodrigo rolled his eyes. "Wandering the back roads with a couple so deeply in love they barely know I exist, or wandering with the couple while they gush about a baby who is causing us nothing but grief."
"It isn't the babe's fault," Sarandia frowned at Rodrigo, "if people are so unused to the idea of an expectant mother on the pilgrimage."
"Perhaps because the pilgrimage is known to be hard on healthy adults."
"I am a healthy adult." Sarandia put her hand out; Harald jumped up and pulled her to her feet.
Rodrigo took a long shuddering brea
