The creaking floorbaords made Antonin turn and without hesitation raise the gun he kept just within reach of his grasp. Over the last twenty hours the gun had become a lifeline that was more natural to him than his wand was.. It was with deadly accuracy that he pointed the weapon toward the doorway and waited for the invader to appear. It was with a sudden flow of relief that Antonin recognized the wary face of his apprentice, Evan.
He exhaled his breath swiftly, dropped the gun listlessly and turned back to his struggling wife, "Shh, it is Evan.." he said quietly and touched her damp hair, brushing it from her sweaty face. She had been struggling for hours now, to birth this child, whom Antonin could only imagine was under high stress. The child was young... premature but after her mother labored so long she was coming.
"Come," he said to Evan, "come here. Take your cloak off, your hands are clean?"