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A baby’s cry cut into the night.

Though quiet at first, whined and groggy with recent sleep, it soon picked up, gaining volume with each breath, and eventually, sighing, Detraeus rose from the bed he shared with his mate and moved to the crib beside it. Ataya, of course, was the trouble-maker. Akara, amazingly, looked sound asleep still — perhaps worn entirely out by her brother’s earlier bouts of angst, or perhaps simply gifted with an innate ability to sleep through anything. Regardless, Detraeus clicked his tongue, giving quiet, tired murmurs as he reached in and down to lift out his only son.

“Shhhhh, tshhh, tshhhhh,” he said, tucking his fussy infant into the niche of his arm and rocking gently. “It’s night, child…I know half your blood speaks to the moon, but your mother needs her rest…”

“Nn-nnnnh—!” Ataya gave a muted whine, punctuating his cries, and then promptly returned to full-on bawling. Of the two of them, he cried easily over twice as much as his sister, and while he was perfectly content to sleep at all hours of the day — and even seemed averse to being woken during them — he woke, unhappy and restless, at all periods during the night.

After a brief period of trying to calm him beside the crib, Detraeus gave up hope for a quick fix and moved out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. With him awake already, he saw no additional need to disturb both his mate and daughter with Ata’s fussing. So, he moved into the living room with him, rocking and murmuring through Ataya’s cries.

In the hearth, the last few embers of an all but fully-extinguished fire glimmered like lonely stars. They left the room black, but for the few rays of Soudana’s moon seeping through windows, and even those were muted, thanks to the thick blanket of snow and nearly perpetual cloud cover outdoors. Not that it mattered to Detraeus’ vision. He took long, slow strides back and forth over the wood panelled floor, fingers tracing patterns up and down Ata’s back as he went.

“Please, little one,” he entreated as the minutes wore on, seemingly endless. “We must sleep…”

Detraeus’ brow furrowed, a thought occurring to him as he walked and Ataya cried. Often, when trying to calm them or put them to sleep, Araceli sang to them. Even he appreciated it, since — until then — he had never heard her voice put to a melody. He, though, had never even attempted. Or, certainly not for anyone else. As he thought on it, it came to mind that he had on certain occasions sung or hummed to himself, more often when he was much younger as a means to comfort himself. Something he did without thinking.

Now, he tried to remember the tune.

“Ai, sha’lah yae,” he began with barely a whisper of a tune, the language of Soudana more sounds than words on his tongue, “…issa de’nah tra, masa ni shino vei toeh raei…”

Immediately, Ataya’s crying petered out. His hands, tiny still at three months, stilled at his daddy’s chest, and his eyes opened, wide with curiosity and staring up expectantly.

Detraeus frowned down at him. “Truly…? You are not going to make me do thi—”

“Nnnnnh—” Ataya blubbered, bitty fists balling up again as his eyes watered, and Detraeus murmured something that was absolutely not a curse word in front of his infant. He cleared his throat, and started back up singing.

His voice sounded low and hoarse to his own ear. Off-key, underused, and strange. But between it, and the distant, natural lullaby of the wind as a backdrop, Ataya slowly but surely relaxed in his arms. When he finished this time, Ata’s eyes were shut, long lashes resting peacefully on the mottled skin of his cheeks and body pliable and at ease in his embrace. Detraeus flushed, not having expected such a thing to work, but feeling accomplished nonetheless. Not daring to make another sound or disturb his son’s hard-earned sleep, he slipped silently back into the bedroom and pressed a feather-light kiss to the crown of his head before laying him gently into his crib again.

By some miracle, Ataya remained asleep, and Detraeus crawled gratefully back into his own bed beside his mate.