This morning we headed out to a field. It wasn't farming as such, but rather a more open space near the village that the women, collectively as a group were going to gather. Along a small path everyone trudged, chatting the whole way. As we went I got to see and start to get a feel for the area around me.

The village was nestled in a valley, and either by geography or design the area around it was fairly clear. It was hard to tell which it was, at least for now, but it meant that a small stream meandered down past us and provided water to our little home. The sides being as they were gave great sight lines in every direction, and while there weren't any walls as such the huts seemed to be arranged so tightly that it didn't much matter, there wasn't any way in without going through the main opening.

The huts themselves were the only trees for hundreds of feet in any direction, and were clearly abnormal. Either by magic or by hard work and arrangement the branches and leaves had been shaped and formed into these, woven tightly into a form of walls. Even above the main area of the huts there were sort of paths between the larger trees, bridges formed by the interwoven wood.

Each hut was dug a couple of feet down into the ground for it's floor and placed in what looked to be circles around several large communal fire pits in the very center of the village. This too seemed to indicate things, since our home neatly opened into the central square while those who I thought looked poorer seemed to live further out to the edges.

Regardless of how much there were clear indications of status there wasn't much in the way of wealth disparity. At least not so much as I could see. The huts near the edge looked much the same as those near us, and while there were demarcations in things like decoration it wasn't as if there were skyscrapers and slums. The hierarchy seemed mainly focused on maintaining instead some form of organization.

Following the stream out of the village one could go either upstream or down. I wasn't sure where down led yet, as we seemed to prefer going upwards, like we were today. In this direction the small stream met up with a larger one after perhaps a half-hour of walking, with a wide and well-worn path snaking alongside.

Once we got to our gathering spot the various cliques spread out a bit, each going after a different area and product. It was hard to get a look at all of them, but it was clear that each different group had a certain thing they were after in particular. There was some overlap, and I could see people taking the easy to get stuff in the area that they chose but they also mostly stuck to whatever they were doing.

By and far the most common ones were the diggers. Groups of girls who used little stone tipped spiky tools to carefully remove the dirt around roots of a common fern-looking plant. They were pulling out something that looked like a small potato, about three inches in diameter.

Then there were the nut gatherers. First thing they did was take one of the few children with us, a boy who looked about ten, and send him up a tree to shake it. Then the group would work its way around, systematically searching for everything that had fallen and could be used. I had to say that the boy in question was energetic about his task and looked to be having a blast.

White-streak had only a couple of women with her, and I got to see why she was so important. There were a number of threes that had large fruit, but it was clearly too early in the season and these had yet to fall. She reached up and I could see her aura flare. Suddenly one of the fruit popped off of its stem and floated down to her. Her pair of companions could do the same, but it seemed that it was far more draining, leaving them looking tired and waiting for minutes before trying again.

Mom, and our group seemed to be going after berries though. This was wild to me, as I could see when we approached that there were none, but that didn't matter. With a wave of her hand mother caused the little patch of bushes that she and the others had come over to to burst into flower and fruit. Nobody but me was surprised and I made a little cheer from the little holder I was in on her back.

'Could I do that?' I wondered as I saw her actions.

Perhaps magic here was inherited like that, the skills being passed generation to generation. She hadn't used any kind of incantation or markings, but rather just a flex of power. I'd have to figure it out later, as for now.

Mom had heard my cheering and brought me down from her back, instead holding me since I was awake. While the others picked the berries she'd made she spoke.

"Oha...Nida...Elian?" I could barely keep up with her words, but a few were repeated often.

The last was one she said a lot to me, but not much to others, unless it was something to do with me. At least that was my working theory. I couldn't do much to confirm other than make cute faces and try to get her to talk more for now, but if I could work out a few words, I could start to learn for real again.

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After a bit mom went back to picking fruit, an all morning exercise. None of the people here seemed in even the slightest rush, each woman keeping deep in conversation as she picked, dug, or gathered. They had enough, and without a good way to store things long term, there really wouldn't be much of a reason to pick more than needed. So they didn't, they enjoyed the time together as the day's work got done.

When we finally returned to the village that afternoon almost all the men were gone. This didn't seem to surprise anyone, and the evening's cooking commenced. Roots were buried in the fire-pit while everyone gathered round. The gathered nuts were brought out and on larger stones were cracked open. It was informal, and while everyone had gathered different things almost all of the goods were shared equally.

While mom and the woman I'd taken to considering my auntie had taken care of me for most of the day so far now there was a line. It seemed a lot of the younger girls wanted a chance to hold me or the like, and they gathered up, each clearly offering in turn to take care of the baby.

Perhaps they wanted to practice for when they had kids? I couldn't help but notice that I was the only infant. Even the number of children was low, with perhaps a dozen total in the village. I tried to parse that with the lack of birth control and the current state of society, but couldn't, there just weren't enough.

There also weren't any old people, at least not that I'd seen. Twenties seemed to be the cutoff, with white-streak looking like she was perhaps thirty, max. That was odd too, perhaps elves aged differently? I knew a little about fantasy, and it seemed to indicate that they lived for a long time, but the complete lack of elders was weird, and I didn't know enough about anthropology to take much of a guess.

Being passed around was helpful though, as several of the girls who reached for me kept saying 'Elian,' and that was about as much confirmation as I needed for my new name. I wasn't sure how I felt about having a new name, I'd always been Justin, and rather preferred that to Elian, but I could tackle that later.

Now I had to deal with the constant moving around as the girls tried to get some time playing with me in. They'd reach and depending on how I reacted I might be passed over or left where I was. I'll admit that I got a bit frustrated by this after awhile, as some of them downright sucked at holding babies.

I couldn't even properly hold my head up on my own quite yet, instead it lolled around, too big to be supported by me. So after awhile of discomfort I tried crying. This led to a number of responses and eventually my mother came to retrieve me. From that point on through the evening the curious girls were rebuffed, either by mom or auntie. Eventually I fell asleep, something I did off and on, and spent a good chunk of the night in that state.

When I woke up in the night I thought about my situation.

Being a baby sucked, in a multitude of ways. I was helpless, truly helpless, unable to walk, or eat, or, well, pretty much anything except cry. I could look around whenever I wasn't falling asleep, but that seemed to happen a lot too, and much of my day was a blur as every hour or two I'd simply doze off. I couldn't even use the bathroom on my own, which was painfully embarrassing for someone who'd been an adult.

All I could really do for now was learn. Learn what was what here, and try to grow, that was my goal. I really, really hoped that the stories were at least not wholly true and I wouldn't spend the next century or whatever as a baby, the chances of me making it out of that sane would have to be almost zero.

While I was thinking I heard a small humming tune, and made my wakefulness known with a light cry. This ended with dad coming over and sitting beside my basket. Normally I'd be unable to see, but in his hand he had a small light, pale yellow like the sun but barely visible. He smiled down at me and continued to sing in a low voice.

As he did he spread out his hands, and small stars of light bloomed, swirling gently around my crib. I wasn't sure how he was doing it, but it was clearly part of whatever magic he had, he could make these little lights and even though it seemed draining to use magic for everyone chose to use them to try and keep me happy and calm.

I hadn't been in this world long, but there were a few things that I knew. I knew that my parents cared for me, the sheer love and kindness that they displayed, the peaceful smiles showed that too much for anyone to debate. Because of this I couldn't think of them as anything except mom and dad. While they didn't know where I'd come from, or the secrets locked away in my little head they knew that they loved me, and showed it every time they looked down at me. That kind of feeling was irresistible and I found myself responding in kind. It was like it was hardwired in, like the only option for their care was reciprocation, and honestly I didn't mind, it made me happy, and I could tell that my smiles and laughs brought them the same joy.