"Oh my", Mamma gasped.


    "We have to get her dried off and warm right away", said Papa.


    Carrying Kiera to my room on the opposite side of the hovel, I gently encouraged her to try and stay awake.


    "I know you''re very tired but we have to get you changed", I said, setting her down on my pallet. "Come on, you''ve got to sit up, amore mio"


    "Amore mio?", asked Kiera half-asleep.


    "It''s Italian for "my love", I explained. "Remember when I told you that both sets of my grandparents came to Chicago from Italy? My parents taught me their language too." Kiera nodded.


    My room was slightly bigger than the hovel''s main room. My pallet, camping lantern and drawstring bag were situated in one corner, while another makeshift stove stood further off.


    When I got a fire going for us, the shadows of its flame flickered dimly on the sheet metal wall.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    There was also another small wooden crate which held some clothes, extra blankets and a few other miscellaneous things. I had a banjo as well.


    "I still have the basket I slept in when I was a baby", I said. "I''ll line it with some of the blankets so they can use it too."


    As we curled up next to each other and I turned off my lantern, Kiera thanked me for my family having taken her in.


    "I just wish I could offer more", I thought.


    Over the course of Kiera''s pregnancy, while Papa and I did whatever we could for us all to get by, Mamma helped her to adjust to living in the encampment.


    She learned to prepare and cook whatever edible roots and small game were brought home, to forage for nuts and wild fruits, wash dishes and clothes at the river, help keep things clean in and around the hovel, and sew little outfits and cloth diapers for the baby to wear.


    After her baby bump appeared and her belly started to grow, however, it became harder for Kiara to move around without much discomfort.


    She also constantly had to pee, her ankles were swollen and she needed a lot of rest. Because she was emotional too and cried frequently, we all had to remain as patient and understanding as possible.


    Still, her pregnancy wasn''t without its happy moments. From feeling his or her kicks beneath my hand, talking to them and placing little kisses on Kiera''s baby bump, those moments were the most wonderful of all. Since we didn''t know the baby''s gender and therefore didn''t have the perfect name chosen yet, I''d begun referring to them as "piccolo". In Italian, this means "little one".