The rain continued falling heavily. The sound of it against the roof was deafening. In fact it was no longer just rain. It was like a storm, wild and endless. The night had come and the whole world outside looked drowned in water. The wind howled through the cracks of the windows and the trees bent as if they would break.
Inside the small cottage, Lydia held her baby tightly in her arms. His small face was red from crying. His little fists kept clenching and unclenching as he wailed. Lydia's eyes were full of tears and fear. She rocked him over and over, whispering desperately.
"Godmother… I don't know what is wrong," she said with a trembling voice. "I thought it was just a slight fever, but now… now I don't think it is. I've tried to nurse him, but he refuses to eat. What did I do wrong? What do I do?"
