After the birth, I set about finding food. I scouted the rural village close to me and used my soul to hear the passersby's thoughts of where nourishment could be acquired. There was a small barn with few cows and chickens; their hearts beating furiously and without thought. A small Gioras was also situated close by and was filled with the smells of sweet grain and flour being spread and kneaded every hour: its scent like a ripe tree branch hanging in the air. I waited until the burning crown in the sky had set and moved the leaves protecting my sanctuary. I first went to the Gioras to find the sweetest, risen, sacred cake. As I approached, the giant archways of the entrance greeted me, and the delicate brocade in the metal glimmered like a rare jewel. The gold brilliantly shining and the deep red dripping like nectarine juice, weaving together into lines and shapes most wonderful. As I entered further the smooth textured white plaster walls had pores that carried the smells further and rose in the air as crudely carved beams that looked carried out of a dollhouse. Sacred cakes lined every shelf and were placed in strange holding chambers; they looked to be a birds nest holding these valuable items. Above me there were glowing balls of light dangling from the ceiling and filling the room with a warm fire. I moved to the center of the room where a garish fluffy square lay on the floor underneath a practical slat table. I chose the softest warmest piece of sacred cake to give to my child. It was filled with wondrous circles that looked like puffed up clouds waiting to be torn. I picked it up and let the soft cake expand and shrink in my hands with every movement as it left a sweet residue on my hands. I took my leave and headed to the barn to collect the last piece I needed. Walking closer it looked to be made from discarded and unloved objects that had fallen from the sky. Each piece of mismatching wood created odd angular lines and interesting colours that I'd never seen before. A speckle of grey powdered the off white slats, mixing with the shingles on top. It looked to be a relic from a different time with nature possessing it. The cows and chickens walked as if on a slope inside but seemed as if they were used to this wooden prison. I used all my available skill and knowledge to pass undetected and picked up a chicken. It was a marvelous offering and had deep blue, emerald feathers on its behind, like an odd looking peacock and large flap of red hanging underneath its head. I plunged my teeth into its neck and drained it. Then I proceeded to pluck every feather one by one until I held a ball of skin in my hands. I returned back to my sanctuary and set the items upon a set of leaves. I ripped the skinless chicken apart in my hands and carefully selected each piece. Then I set about finding a good place to create embers to cook it; I found an area that was dry nestled between some large rocks and surrounded by leaves. I plucked the leaves from the stems and furiously rubbed them together with the thoughts of feeding my child and the desperation to make her happy. Sparks began to dance and flicker to life, and soon a torrent of heat had been created. I placed each piece of chicken into it as if it were an offering to the gods themselves and then turned my attention to the sacred cake. I found some olives growing from a vine crawling up the wall; its sweet yet sour scent cascading down it. Plucking three one by one, I began to roll them in my hands and feel the soft contours. I squeezed and crushed them into a pulp in my hands and created a deep green, brown paste. I grabbed the sacred cake, carefully pulled it into different sections, and spread the paste on each one. When that was done the chicken had turned a bone like colour and had become the texture of fraying wool. I put each one on the sacred cake and slowly propped my child up on knee. I slowly brought each cake to my child's mouth like it was a bird drinking from the surface of a lake. Each piece created small lumps in her throat and slid slowly down, satiating her cries and filling her brain with the love I have for her.

The first few months of my child's life were going as they should. Her body began to grow more plump, and her fat arms started to wave greetings at me. Her hair had started to grow ringlets of brown gold and were soft as petals to the touch. But as she grew my need for blood was starting to want to hurt her. Scared of myself and for my child I knew I had to give her to mortals who would cherish her for the precious jewel she was. At night I began to search for the correct mortals to care for her. I started by observing a merchant and his family in the village. Their house was a mountain of bricks and splendor and towered over everything. The columns in front are overbearing and too grand and the marble too pristine. The door was a beautifully carved wooden oval with parts of black lining and brightly coloured squares, dominating a large section of the wall. I saw the merchant returning late at night, giddy like a child and trying to say something unanswerable. His sleeves bouncing in the chill night air and his leather sandals cracking under the pressure of his body. His mass of brown curly hair sat precisely on his shoulders. His inner voice came to me and spoke only of money, material things and women proposing themselves. I knew he wouldn't be a good fit and went on my way. I listened and searched every corner until I came upon something that seemed hopeful. A woman was singing a sweet hymn to herself over a pot and dropping different greenery inside, stirring and stirring as she went. Her child next to her begging to have involvement and creating loud beautiful cries. She lifted the child to her chest and continued to sing while she let the child hold a herb and drop it in. Her love was spreading to every area of the small room and made me feel an extension of it; it was filling the pot with thoughts of goodness and love for her child. I sat and observed more as she was finishing up and watched her child kick its smell feet about in excitement and snort while pulling the woman's hair. She placed the child on a seat of some kind and carried the pot to the center of the room. She began to scoop the liquid mixture of greenery into an oval shaped object and feed it to her child. It began to squeal and show its little tooth as it was starting to feel content. I knew she'd be a good mother to my child and decided to leave a letter with my child wrapped in the old feathers I collected from the chicken. I spoke of my love for my child and how I had to leave and wanted her to be safe. I placed her carefully on the space outside the woman's hut and patted her to make sure she was bundled warmly and safely. An overwhelming emotion began to fill me, and I wanted to touch her brown ringlets again and hold her close to me. I wanted to ask the sun for answers, cry out, and let the rising tornado inside me unleash. To feel her soft delicate forehead again, the smooth pearl luster of it seeming even rarer to me now, the sweet smell being the only thing I could think of. Wishing her small round fingers would always be attached to me and wrap around my hands like a bracelet too small. The overwhelming need to have her always be a part of me was all consuming, and I wanted her always close to me. But I knew it was dangerous and tried to swallow those feelings deep within me and lock them away in a different part of me. I began to walk away and stared at the blackness of the sky, the purple gleam of the moon beaming upon me. Everything seemed darker as I focused more on my feelings, my hands felt empty and my mind too occupied. I was falling within myself and was rooted in spot, trying to savor every memory and hang onto it. Slipping farther and farther away into the waterfall of my grief and sudden loneliness, the beautiful blues and hues of green consuming me. Every thought and memory was trying to scream at once and a deep cry was sounding within me, mounting and mounting with each thought. It was guttural and rising to my pit and stomach, ascending to my brain and trying to crawl out like a tick who's been hiding and feeding. Nothing mattered in that moment but my need to scream; the need for the salt to fall from my eyes. I opened my mouth as far as it would go, but I was so consumed I could only whimper like an injured animal. I held my finger and tried to imitate my sweet child's hold. It made the tornado inside whip faster and faster and an uncontrollable wind was dragging me back to my sanctuary. I laid in the rocks where she first entered the world and let the salt from my eyes stream down into everything. My eyes were filled with thoughts of her. I wrapped my finger tighter around my hand and held it close to me in the hopes some new wisdom would make it pass. My eyes began to fill with blackness, and the salt from my eyes began to taste sweet.

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I awoke the next morning, feeling like I had no purpose and tried to busy myself with responsibilities of eating and things I did before. But it felt so empty and useless, so I laid back down in the rocks. That is all I remember from that period. I would like to pluck it from my mind, but it has always eaten at me and will continue to do so.