Cradling Burr's fragile body, trying to tuck him back into the nest, but there is so much blood and Burr is crying, crying with agony. There is naught Hamilton can do to help. He seems so small and so wounded, and there is so much blood.

The surgeon seems to appear from nowhere, having left most of this endeavor to the women of this little village. He is doing something between Burr's legs, and then pressing down on his stomach, pushing hard. Hamilton is pulled back, away, and the first thing that tears his eyes away from Burr is a higher, piercing wail.

"There she is," he hears Mrs. Smith say, and he turns to see a tiny, bloodied, wrinkled, impossible thing, little eyes screwed closed and little hands making little fists.

Hamilton's heart breaks, instantly. In a single breath, he has become someone else. He has transformed.

"A girl," he whispers, and then she is settled into his arms, so small that he has to wrap himself carefully around her.

"Go on, she needs to give suck," and Mrs. Smith steers him back towards Burr. "It'll help him with the afterbirth."

Hamilton has literally no idea what that is, but he follows her instructions, trying to wake Burr, get his attention even through the continued pain. Trying to position the baby so she can seek out his swollen breasts.