Chapter Text
The gentle breeze blew across the tall man's face, ruffling his long black hair behind him. There were streaks of silver in it now as well as in his short beard, but the bronzed patina of his face showed few lines. In the nature of his people, he was still fairly young, only about 60, and would live for another century or more if some accident or other factor did not befall him.
The wind bared the pointed tips of his ears and caused him to squint underneath his slanted eyebrows, his mahogany eyes still clear and sharp. As the breeze out of the north picked up, he canted his head back a bit and flared his nostrils to pick up a scent that he easily detected. Snow, somewhere in the distance. It would not arrive today but he could detect it with his sensitive sense of smell. His heritage gave him that ability, too. On his home world, it would have been dust or salt he would be smelling, blowing off the dried salt sea that spread out near his city. He'd smelled it for the years he'd lived there and could remember its tang like an old friend.
But this scent was different. It was one of wet and cold, sharp and carrying a warning. Winter was nearly upon them and must be prepared for. The man had known it for nearly thirty years and had forced his way through its hardships and famine.
"Spock?"
He turned to find a statuesque woman working her way up the ridge to where he stood. Smiling, he moved down and offered a hand to help her up the final few feet. She was dressed much as he was, in buckskins and high moccasins. Her dark hair also hung loosely around her shoulders, its tresses now streaked with gray as well and rippling in the wind.
She blew out her breath as she came to stand beside her husband. "You've been up here a long time. What are you studying about?"
"The weather," answered the Vulcan, turning back to the north. "Snow is coming. No more than a few days I'd judge."
Christine Chapel nodded. "I can smell it, too." She shaded her eyes with her hand and peered into the north. "How well are we prepared?"
"We should go hunting before the worst of it is upon us," Spock replied. "I will form a hunting party when we return to the colony. I am a bit concerned that I do not see the amount of animal life on the plains that we are used to. The migration south has already begun."
His wife nodded. "I agree. That doesn't bode well. The winter might be a bad one."
"Or this coming storm will be. We have seen mild winters as well as bad ones. How badly are your bones aching?" He was gazing at her, but with humor.
Christine slapped him on the arm. "Don't start that again!" she ordered, but she laughed too. "No worse than usual. Anyway, we should get back. It won't be long until sundown."
"Agreed." The tall Vulcan turned and took his wife's arm, steadying her as they descended the ridge.
After they had gotten back to level ground and were walking across the shallow valley towards the colony, Christine spoke up. "Sapel won't want to go. Not with Maia this close."
"She is not due for at least two weeks," Spock answered evenly. "We should be gone no longer than three days at the maximum. I doubt that the baby will come any sooner than that."
His wife gave him a skeptical side-eye. "Thanks for that evaluation, Doctor Spock," she said. "Who's the medical professional around here?"
He glanced at her, his brows lifted slightly. "You, of course, wife. But I have experience with other babies, you know."
"Well, each woman is different. Actually, I don't think she has effaced yet. I'm guessing about 18 days or so. Still, Sapel won't want to leave her, as I said."
"Getting away will do him good. He has been watching her like a night raptor. Just get her to rest and enjoy the quiet while she can."
"I'll take care of her, You take care of him."
Spock did not say anything more. They had arrived at the ruins of the partially rebuilt Alpha Colony, its main buildings still heaps of ruined buildings following the Romulan attack nearly two years ago. The residences had been mostly rebuilt and were all inhabited. But the twenty or so remaining colonists had been forced to learn to live without the modern appliances and conveniences to which they had been accustomed. It was more primitive now, something Spock and his family had known from the years they had been stranded here. They were all learning how to survive on a primitive world.
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