*Is this any good?
*Can you picture the scene?
*Do you want to know what's going on?
*Do you want to know what happens next?
*Anything I should try to avoid/improve upon?
*I'm crap with apostrophes-help!
There is a tentative silence. They can hear the wind rustling the leaves outside, tempting the oranges and browns to fly instead of keeping grasp of the dying tree. The birds seem to quieten too, sensing the tension of this moment. The young woman is too faint to look, though her tears of hope and fear show she is thinking what the rest of them are, and what they are reacting to. Her head falls back onto the bearskin beneath her. A girl with pure worry written across her face dabs the young woman's cheeks, brushing her dark damp hair from her forehead, giving concerned looks beyond to the others. The tiny, silent bundle is passed to the oldest-looking woman, one of her gnarled fingers burrowing into it frantically. She grunts with frustration, removing her hand and wiping it on her gown. Everyone holds their breath. The very air seems to still. The breeze shoots suddenly in through the glassless window and lifts tendrils of the young woman's hair. After a heart beat that feels eternal, a tiny, rasping cry makes everyone exhale and let out an exhausted cheer. The bundle is passed to the young woman, her face red and wet with exertion and tears. She holds the baby, now struggling with the coarse brown blanket that is wrapped arounf it and screaming at the cold. She laughs with relief and cradles the infant closer to her chest, its head in the nook of her arm.
The old woman sags onto the side of the bedding, wiping her brow with a rag. She mutters something as she pants with the last eight hours efforts, but it is not heard above the shrieks of the baby. All the girls, including the young woman, look at her. She looks the young woman right in the eye, "I said," she pants "it's a girl. I told you it'd be a girl." The young woman laughs and cries again, holding her baby's head to her lips. "My beautiful girl....my beautiful girl, open your eyes". She slowly rocks the babe in her arms, kissing the top of its head and making shooshing sounds. The baby finally stops crying as she begins to feel warm again. Her mother strokes down the side of her head with one finger. The baby sees its mothers face for the first time. The mother smiles, almost whispering "her eyes...the colours are purples but change like clouds...like an undulating storm is reflected in them.", "Or a storm inside them" the old woman responds quickly yet quietly. All in the room are looking at the mother and baby, both serene in the bond of warmth and love for each other all ready developing. "I feel as though I'm dreaming, I have a daughter!" the young woman exclaims, half-laughing with disbelief. The girls smile and quiestly coo at the infant, slowly departing the room one by one.
When only the new mother with child and old woman are left, she looks up from her daughter for the first time since laying eyes on her. "What you see is not necessarily the truth" she says, not unkindly, to the old woman. The old woman seems about to reply, then changes her mind and simply nods. "So...you cannot leave your daughter with the storms in her eyes without a name my love." she says after a while. The new mother smiles and looks at her daughters face again. "Violirith...Violirith Greniryth." The old woman smiles and reaches to the baby's head, stroking the downy-soft hairs. "A new name for a new daughter, and an old name from an old mother..." "You are not so old" "Aye, that's why they call me the Green Elder!" the old woman chuckles and stands up without the sprightliness of years ago. The young woman passes her daughter to the old lady. "And so, Violet-eyed Green-seer, welcome to the world!" As she says this with a smile, she turns to a window, and holds the baby up to the sun. A massive cheer of many voices comes from below, drowining out the baby's cries of being taken for a moment from its mother.