Literature
XIV. Blood in Braille
Early the next morning, just as dawn was breaking, Alaric went to visit Gwen one final time. For her impending execution, he wore white robes to show his purity and holiness. The irony made him chuckle as he unlocked the shed.
Inside, he found Gwen slumped against the wall, sound asleep, with a faint smile on her face. Perhaps she was dreaming of more pleasant times. Then he noticed that she wasn’t holding the baby in her arms, as she usually was. He looked around. The shed was small, with no place to hide anything, even something as small as an infant. Where was the baby? The door had been locked, and he had the only key. Where could it have gotten to?
He reached down and grasped Gwen’s shoulder, roughly shaking her awake. She opened her eyes and shook her head, before looking up at him inquisitively.
“Where’s the baby?”
Gwen blinked, then looked around, as if expecting to see it somewhere. When she didn’t, she grinned.
How dare she. Alaric grabbed her other shoulder and shook
