Year of the Boar, Eighth Month, Day 3 - Postscript.

It has occurred to me to worry about pregnancy again. The Chief's herbs brought about my cycle in order to prevent one but I cannot take them again so soon. For one thing, I could not bear the pains again and I am not convinced it would be safe to keep drinking that vile potion of his.
I do not know what to do. At home this would not be an issue but out here... I am at his mercy. He has made it clear that he does not want a child; his wives have only two between them and I am not convinced that he has fathered either of them. I have no desire to be the first to give him a baby. When I packed my supplies, I could not have foreseen an instance for me to need devices which would prevent conception... I am an imbecile; I should have refused him that first time in the woods. Indeed I should never have even talked to him in the first place... but it is too late for recriminations now. I need his touch, the flame he ignites within me; I need the release that only he has been able to give me. So I suppose I shall have to find a way to discuss this seriously with him. Or... I shall end up bearing a child...