“Sunfa?” Ambrose asks cautiously as she studies the small creature. Its growls lessen for a moment as it hesitates, confusion filling its eyes. “Sunfa.” Ambrose pushes, as it huddles further inside of itself, watching her cautiously. “Do you remember Astiel?” She steps forward, and it screams at her. Ambrose moves back, watching her warily.
“Remember Talin?” Ambrose says softly. A spark of light enters its eyes. Ambrose lowers her weapon to the ground, staying focused on the creature as she raises her hands in a placating gesture. “The three of you were friends.” She takes a step forward. It growls, its tone threatening, but doesn’t stop her. “You had a treehouse.” Another step, and it tenses.
“Was that book yours?” Ambrose continues. “Experiment log 6-“ she cuts off her words as the creature hisses, its eyes aflame. “Okay. Okay.” Ambrose says gently, taking a step back again. It calms down and stares at her, its eyes lost. “Focus on who you are. Sunfa. You had friends. Remember.”
“…Sun…fa,” the words escape its mouth almost mechanically, the voice grating and off-kilter as if it had spoken in a very long time. The name rolls around its mouth, a hint of recognition in its tone.
“Personal diary of the village queen.” Ambrose continues. She takes a step forward. “Astiel made fun of me today.” It shivers at her words, a wildness entering its eyes. “Ma said it’s because-“ the creature roars at her, cutting Ambrose off again. Its eyes are wide, panicked, almost afraid of the words.
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“I hit him.” Ambrose continues, taking a step back but carefully watching it. It screams at her, but she continues. “I got in trouble, but it was worth it. The stupid look-“ Ambrose dives to the side as the creature jumps at her, its roars manic while its claws dig into the wood where she stood. It swings itself to face her again as Ambrose continues to speak.
“Astiel’s my friend now.” Ambrose says, dodging another swing. The creature heaves, the blood loss draining its strength as it attempts to stop Ambrose from talking. “I should’ve hit him a long time ago.” It throws itself at her again, but this time its swing is too weak and Ambrose grabs its arms, holding them up. Her eyes pierce into its own, desperate to hide. “Ma was wrong when she said violence isn’t-“
“Dead!” It cries, its voice forceful and then weak as a gasping sob echoes out of its chest. “Dead.”
“Sunfa.” Ambrose says, holding it carefully as wracking sobs fill the room. “You are Sunfa.”
“Was.” It sobs. The words are stilted, broken in the way they come out. Not far different from the way the villager’s spoke to her. “Forget. Forget. Me.” It begs her. Ambrose softens as she looks at it. No, her.
“Sunfa.” Ambrose crouches down, keeping hold of her arms as she looks at her. From close up she can see hints of the child before. But so far corrupted, broken, that it’s hard to see the resemblance. “Do you remember anything?” She goes silent, staring off into space. “How long have you been here?”
“Talin.” Sunfa speaks, a deep grief in her tone. “Not Talin. Talin. Not Talin.” Her words repeat over and over, her eyes glazed as the incessant tone drills into Ambrose and then suddenly she stops. Sunfa grows slack, and falls unconscious.