A Looking Glass Wars Fan-Fiction
Summary: Weaver had a secret: a child. And now that it's no longer a secret. How long can she protect the father? How can she save her child from being hurt?
Author's Note: I have not read Seeing Redd, so this is just an idea. I got the name Weaver from Wikipedia. I own nothing that belongs to the world of the Looking Glass Wars.
She dodged in and out of the trees, desperate to escape whatever was following her. While she once was as light and quick as a deer, her bulging stomach slowed her down now.
She could hear her pursuers gaining, smashing through the branches. Pure terror kept her tired legs going—she had to live.
For the rebellion, she had knowledge they needed.
For herself, she was too young to die.
For the baby, who had yet to experience life.
For him, if he would ever return for her.
They were at her heels, the seekers humming excitedly, tasting her smell and her fear in the air. Unexpectedly, she stumbled and fell over a branch. She cursed and tried to lurch to her feet, but someone fell on her. She reacted, desperately trying to find tender pinpoints on her attacker to force him away.
"Sh! They'll hear you. Follow me. Stay low." She looked up and saw a man. A man in a hat. In the dark forest, she thought it was a top hat.
"Hatter?" She dared to hope. Had he returned at last?
"Come quickly, now!" hissed the man in the hat. Hope rose in her chest, warring with mistrust and terror. She could still hear the seekers, almost upon them. She hunched down and followed the man. Suddenly he pulled her into the nearest bush and crouched down. Card soldiers and Glass Eyes raced by.
The man began to uncurl, but she held his arm. "The seekers!" she reminded him. He cursed. She could hear their dreadful buzzing now, so in time with the jagged pounding of her heart. The seekers had her smell; they wouldn't lose it in the dark.
The man grabbed her roughly and pulled her along deeper and deeper into the forest. Without warning, he opened a large canteen and dumped it on her head. She gave a little surprised gasp at him, but wisely said nothing. He continued to pull a looking glass out. He pressed a button on the handle and it expanded into a floor-length mirror. He grabbed her roughly around the middle and pulled her into the mirror.
Immediately she found herself sliding through the looking glass, held tight by the man in the hat. The last thing she remembered was hoping the baby would be able to survive this.
Slowly her eyes opened. Faces blinked in and out of focus. Her head pounded. Her whole belly ached. Then—agonizing, horrendous pain. It was like the pains that came monthly—only much, much, much worse.
"What?" she managed to spit out before moaning in agony.
"Dear, you're having the baby," a matronly voice told her. "We think going through the looking glass induced it—luckily, you don't seem far off your due date."
The baby. Weaver moaned. "It will be alright, dear," continued the voice, stroking her forehead.
The pain intensified.
"Push, dear, push!"
After what felt like hours, the baby left her body.
Nora, the midwife, turned to the exhausted woman, a squalling little bundle in her arms.
"Congratulations, it's a girl!"
Weaver didn't respond.
"Weaver!" gasped Nora, panic charging through the older woman's veins. After all the effort, would they lose her now? Nora felt for Weaver's pulse—and found it. It was slow, but steady. She had only fainted from exhaustion.
Nora breathed in relief. The Millinery scientist-turned-spy would be all right.