Beginnings

The future destiny of the child is always the work of the mother.

Napoleon Bonaparte

The great bear loped through the ancient forest, her black coat glistening with drops of rain. The old leaves that blanketed the ground beneath her paws were spongy and damp with the early spring thaw and she kicked up clods of mulch with her claws as she ran. Her breath came in great huffs, though she was no stranger to running. The bear's pace did not falter until she reached the rocky banks of the river where the wide swath of water divided their forest from hers. She was almost home.

She lumbered up to the water's edge and drank deeply—it was cold enough to make her teeth ache— and then shook, her body scattering droplets into the air. With heavy splashes, the bear waded into the shallows where the fish liked to hide. Standing perfectly still, she watched them dart around her feet. The icy water seeped slowly into her fur, but she ignored the creeping numbness—'twas only pain, after all—and waited. The wind ruffled her ears and she snorted softly. At last, her patience was rewarded and she sunk her snout into the stream and closed her jaws around the shining fish that had been foolish enough to come too close. It struggled, gasping and thrashing, but she held it tight in her teeth, feeling the bones break beneath her grip. With a rough shake from side to side, the fish lay limp and she clambered out of the river to feast upon her prize.

The tender flesh was cool and soothing against her throat and her stomach growled appreciatively. After several more fish had joined the first, Morrigan released the tendrils of magic binding her to this form and she stepped out of its skin and into her own. She shivered at the loss of fur and fat, quickly shielding herself in a cocoon of summoned heat. It felt strange to be human again. The past few weeks had been nothing but endless running—away from the great city where the Archdemon lay rotting, away from the people, away from the noise and the smell and the death that stalked the lands of men. The solitude sang to her like a forgotten song, a tune that had long faded into her dreams.

She sat near the bank, leaning her back against the withered bark of a leafless tree, its clawed hands reaching into the sky to clutch the clouds with spindly fingers. Beyond the river, in the dark heart of the forest, was a small hut, dormant and waiting for her to claim it. It was not that much further, but she was just too tired to continue. Morrigan curled up at the base of the tree and pulled her cloak over top of her; a few whispered words, and the colors and patterns of the leaf bed below her feathered their way around her weary form. Hidden and safe, she slept.

The sun was setting when she woke, the sky alive with vibrant swatches of orange and pink. She had not intended to sleep quite so long. Of late, it seemed like she could never get enough rest and a constant state of weariness dogged her steps. If she ran through the night, she could reach the hut. She forced herself to her feet, but the abrupt motion made her stomach lurch. Not again. Beads of sweat formed on her brow as she steadied herself. 'Twas a losing battle and she soon knelt heaving in the cool grass. What was this thing doing to her?

Morrigan slipped out a piece of dried ginger root from the pouch at her waist and chewed frantically, willing the waves of nausea to stop. The spice burned her tongue and made her nose tingle, but, eventually, the sensation receded enough that she could raise her head. Despite the fact that she had achieved what she desired, she still found herself resenting this little parasite in her womb. If she reached down deep, she could feel it stirring, growing stronger, feeding on her blood. Its heart had been beating for a few days now, tiny pulses fluttering against the touch of her power. She rose to her feet, shaky and quivering, and wrapped her arms tightly around her chest. Her breasts were noticeably fuller now and, sometimes, just the lightest brush of fabric against them was enough to make her gasp in agony. Morrigan smoothed a hand down the front of her robes. At least her belly was still flat, only the tiniest roundness hinting at what was to come.

She would endure. The loss of her body was only temporary and then everything would return to normal. The child would be hers and she would shape it into a creature of her own making. That was worth any level of discomfort.

Morrigan closed her eyes and surrounded herself with magic as the great bear swallowed her up once more. She dropped down to all fours, stamping her feet in the frosted grass. She wondered what happened to the thing, to the babe, when she changed. Did it stay human, or was it now an embryonic cub, drifting listlessly with dreams of dark caves and sweet summer berries?

With a grumbling whuff, she waded her way through the shallowest stretches of the stream until she reached the other side. Her forest. They would be safe here. With a final glance back, her dark eyes glinting in the moonlight, the shadows devoured her as she vanished into the trees.

A/N: All rights to Bioware for letting me play with their toys and thank you so much to mackillian for going above and beyond to beta something extra for me. :)

This story fills in and around the two one-shots Gravida and A Transitory Peace, as Morrigan was very insistent that I tell the *whole* story properly. There is no need to read these separately as they will be incorporated into the story at the appropriate points.