Cimmerian Sunrise

Chapter 12 - ***REVISED***

Breanne's eyes fluttered open and she immediately squinted at the bright rays which seemed to burn her eyes. Disoriented, she slowly sat up and looked out of the window.

Her gaze darted around the room and she cocked her head in confusion. Didn't she wake but an hour or two ago? How could it still be daybreak? She could see that it was early morning; that much was easy to decipher. But, had she only dreamt that Alla and Brandon came to visit her? Her head began to pound and she immediately raised her hand to her temple. "Ugh," she groaned.

Breanne slid the covers from atop her legs and slowly walked out of her room. Her head pounded with every step she took. She slowly made her way down the stairs and paused when she heard painfully familiar voices.

At that, she hastily looked down at her cotton swathed limbs, realizing to her alarm that she'd neglected to don her dressing gown. Quickly turning around, she began ascending the steps to her room, hoping to cover herself before greeting her guests.

"Where do you think you're going, miss? Face me, right this instant."

She sighed in despair and briefly closed her eyes, recalling the nightmarish events leading to her current despair. Breanne slowly turned to face her mother and saw her eyes widen in shock. Mrs. Crabtree gasped and made her way toward her daughter, though she stopped at the bottom of the staircase. Her eyes bored into Breanne's belly.

"So, it's true," she whispered. Her fingers traveled to her lips. "You have become a fallen woman!" Her eyes darted up to Breanne's, accusingly.

Breanne's hands started to shake and she found that she could only control the action by clenching her fists. "It's not true, mother," she emphatically denied.

"Well, how do you explain this?" she questioned, flustered, as she gestured to Breanne's stomach.

Breanne closed her eyes and grasped the rail. Her head wouldn't stop pounding; and she could feel the blood draining from her face, the strength from her knees and elbows.

"Breanne?" Alla's worried voice caused Breanne to slowly open her eyes. Alla didn't spare a glance at Mrs. Crabtree as she came to stand beside Breanne on the staircase. "Come; let me assist you down the stairs."

"She got herself into this predicament! She can do it herself!" Mrs. Crabtree snapped.

"I'll not let her faint again and wind up with a broken neck," Alla snapped back.

"Faint?" Mrs. Crabtree repeated, confused.

"Again?" Breanne inquired at the same time.

Alla nodded, assisting Breanne into a chair in front of the hearth. "Yesterday morning," she whispered, placing a cover over Breanne's legs. "Brandon and I heard a thud and rushed to investigate. We found you on the floor and put you into bed. How is your head?"

"How embarrassing," Breanne whispered back. Her face flushed once more; and she looked at Brandon, who sat in the chair nearest to hers. He immediately shook his head in dismissal of her ludicrous comment.

"How is your head, Breanne?" Alla repeated the question.

"It hurts," Breanne admitted, "and I still feel a bit dizzy."

Hard, fast footsteps assaulted the floor and she knew it was her mother.

"Please do not leave this room," Breanne quickly whispered to both of them.

"Well, miss? What is your explanation?" Her mother demanded to know. She stood in front of Breanne, blocking the fire's soothing warmth.

"Let her rest a while, Dorthea," her father interrupted, a voice emanating from behind his wife. "It seems she is unwell."