Chills to the bone were the winds from the Dragon’s Back sierra. From those craggy peaks they tumbled down on the streets of Celdenshea, carrying with them, every last snowflakes of winter and showered the beautiful town since early morning.

Pristine white snow blanketed the streets and every roof in the quaint town. Icicles hanging on the tree branches along the streets, sparkling like fine crystal under the few afternoon sunrays manage to slipped through the clouded grey sky.

The winter was late and soon spring would come.

To the northwest, upon a high hill overlooking Celdenshea, stood the Red Manor, the estate of the local lord, Cadwal Celden. A cobble road winded its way up to the hilltop, at its end was a deep ditch, and a thick rampart wall, reinforced with timber and stone, encircled a garden. Through the gatehouse, rose hedges ran along the gravel path with ash and apple trees dotted the lawn. They were all blanketed in pure white snow, look withered and in deep slumber, patiently waiting for spring to come. In front of the manor door were two rows of pine trees, proudly wearing their green needles in defiance of the chilling cold of the winter air.

In the middle of the garden stood the house of lord Cadwal. A two stories high building, the red sandstone of the ground floor gave the building its name, and the upper floor with beautiful timber and brick work. Its windows were lit with the warm light of candles, and shadows were moving about inside the manor. Through the ornate oak doors, the servants inside were at haste. The air was warm and groans of pain echoing from the eastern hallways of the manor amid the hasty footsteps of the servants. In front of a crackling fireplace, the shadow of a man kept to and froing in the main hall. A late thirties man, with a receding hairline, and what was left of his wavy red hair formed a crown at the back of his head, in fine cloth he dressed and bearing a troublesome look on his face. His anxious eyes kept staring to the eastern hallway where the groans of pain coming from, the painful groans of a woman in labour.

The man was lord Cadwal himself and the woman in labour was his wife, lady Mona. It had been over thirty minutes since lady Mona showed signs of labour, it was just thirty minutes but to lord Cadwal, it felt like thirty hours long had passed, and the cry of a newborn has yet to be heard. Thus, he kept toing and froing in front of the fireplace nonstop, even though the housekeeper had given word of reassurance, still the lord couldn’t calm his nerves, his stomach churned and his face twisted into a miserable look every time his wife groan of pain came to his ears. Every groan of lady Mona was like a knife plunged into Lord Cadwal’s heart, like coal added to the fire under his feet. Myriad of dark thoughts plagued his mind, the lord’s face nearly drained of its colour as anxiety reigning his face, worrying about the face of his wife and the child.

Many minutes long of agony anxiety passed, and then, like the saving hand of Quelas’Airuth, a cry of an infant reached Lord Cadwal’s ears and lifted the burden weighing on his heart. The cries were strong and loud, echoed far throughout the manor hallways, with every pair of ears it caught, it put a bright smile on the person’s face. The lord exchanged a joyous look to his housekeeper, his cheeks and nose turned to a bright red hue as the happiness of becoming a father had brought the life blood rushed back to his face. Thanked the housekeeper’s congratulation and with haste, Lord Cadwal turned to the western hallway, butterflying in his stomach and light on his feet, the lord paced down the long hallway toward where his wife and his new born child were amidst the congratulations of the servants.

A biggest and brightest smile appeared on lord Cadwal’s face as the doors cracked open, inside the room, welcomed him was the image of his wife wrapped in the warm light of the candles, her crimson locks softy glowed. Lady Mona turned her exhausted lovely face to greet her husband, sweat lingering on her forehead, the smile bloomed on her face was of pure joy and happiness. There, safely warped in the embrace of her mother was the spark of life, who just greeted this good earth moment ago.

Lord Cadwal sat down next to her wife on the bed, his eyes fixed on the tiny infant warped in her arms. Carefully catching the infant from his wife, Lord Cadwal gently rocks the baby in his arms, his brain still comprehending the fact he just became a father. Stroke her cheeks with his finger, the lord felt a rush of emotion coursing throughout his body like a tsunami wave. The softness of her puffy cheeks, a glance of that cute face filled his heart with unimaginable joy, his baby girl’s cute little noses and the red tuffs on her head sent his mind off to somewhere among the clouds. And like she could sense the present of her father, her tiny infant hand gripped tight at her father's finger. Strong was her grip, and that put a big smile on Lord Cadwal’s face, with a gentle voice he whispered.

"Morwenna"