As my consciousness fades back in, I notice that everything feels stiff and unmoving. I start to try and shake, to move, to twitch. Nothing. Dead. I will myself to move and feel an explosion in my chest. Then stillness. Then another explosion. I let out a scream.

“WaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

I start to shake and flail. The horrid slamming in my chest starts to ease up, but in its place is now pain shooting through my arms, legs, toes, eyes, and ears. As the pain and explosions start to fade into background feelings, the sound comes in. It’s loud.

A shrill woman’s voice screaming, “CLERIC! CLERIC!”

I feel a reverent whisper and movement as warm hands wrap around, lifting my wailing flailing body “By The Fist. The babe lives.” I can’t understand a bit of what’s happening around me.

Sounds are garbles, light pierces my clenched shut eyes, my hands grabbing, legs kicking, and chest and lungs pulsing for all their worth as I scream myself deaf.

Ugh. I’m starting to get tired from all this screaming, and it seems to have helped because everything isn’t feeling tingly. I take a deep breath and blow it out to open my eyes. I’m in a room made of wood and stone with a warming hearth, a large bed with a big bump on it and a lot of red sticky looking liquid around it. There are some short wooden dressers and a few small glowing crystals set in candle sconces in the wall. Of course, I know nothing of what any of this is or does. I know that I’m tired. I know that I’m hungry. Everything else is fuzzy and confusing.

The reverent whisper continues, “Poor child. He yet lives by the graces of The Fist, yet with no one left to live with him. As is customary to the orphans of all Heroes, he will be raised for five years by the Order of The Fist, then sent to the fight pits for refinement.”

I look up into the very square face of a very trim beard with harsh eyes that seem to be deciding if I’m worth any value. After a moment passes he smiles at me - seeming to find me acceptable. Good. I like this guy’s face so I’m happy he likes me too. I spit at him.

The woman shrieking earlier shriek-whisper-stutters something out, “B-but Sir, how do we know that it’s not a demon or foul spirit that took the babe. There’s nothing special about him. He’s a bastard born to a whor–”

His head whips up as he glares at - oh that person, “The decision has been made.” I don’t know what he’s saying but it didn’t sound friendly.

Do we not like the person? Hmmmm… Gut says okay.

I notice a smell - strong, acrid, tangy, and heavy. This is what being alive smells like. I file that thought away for later. It seems important.

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His face softens and he smiles at her. “I’m sorry Beatrice. I’m not angry at you. This is just a mess and I will do my best, as a Cleric of The Fist, to save lives and raise Heroes. I will get him to the fortress, fed, and put down for a nap.”

I’m briskly wrapped up in a big fuzzy, wiped down, wrapped up, and whisked away. Face man keeps smiling at me and making noises and faces. I make them back. He looks up, reaches over, and everything gets bright and blue and happy. He starts to move faster as a wind brushes against my cheeks. His arms wrap around me, keeping the wind off me. Everything zooms by, which gives me a warm feeling. I could sleep, but I’m hungry. Ugh.

We go into another place that looks gray, strong, and smells like dirt and that alive smell. He carries me through a few twists, turns, and into a place that has much more color. Pinks and blues and yellows and reds and greens are everywhere in shapes and stuff. This place is cool.

*bang bang bang* I see his hand whacking a door with a lot of curvy lines across it. It opens and I just stare. ~Pretty~

I drool.

“He needs a wet nurse. Orphaned at birth.” I look back at face dude while he just hands me over to; I glance back and start drooling again.

This is sooo soft. “Cooo.” I sagely say to ~Pretty~.

She nods at something I can’t see, turns around (the ceiling spins so prettily), closes the door, shifts her hands, and sets heaven in my mouth. I don’t know what just happened, and I don’t care. FOOD!

I close my eyes and just suckle to my stomach's content. Time passes as universes are born and fade to nothing on the background of utter bliss and deliciousness. Eventually I become sated. Letting out a little burp all on my own, I drift asleep.

— — —

The pressure and feeling around me changes, bringing me to wakefulness. I feel great. The pressure suddenly erupts into sound as I open my eyes. All around me I see many many ~Pretty~ crowding around and making funny noises and faces at me. Giggling, I roll my eyes around and try to look at all of them – the different faces, skin colors, eyes, ears, noses, hairstyles and colors and textures, dress styles, and raw beauty is overwhelming. My eyes, glistening. My smile, radiant. My drool, exquisite.

I’m getting passed around. Each one of the ~Pretty~ has a different way of holding me, tickling me, pressing their face against mine, lifting me, spinning me, and rubbing me all over. Oh no. Bad feeling. Bad. I start squeezing to stop the feeling. I squeeze my face and my fists. The ~Pretty~ holding me looks scared and worried. I find the right squeeze and the bad feeling turns to a good feeling. I giggle at her. She quickly hands me off to a different ~Pretty~.

The new ~Pretty~ makes a face, then starts gagging and turns away from me while thrusting me out as far as she can, “Did he just shit himself?”

Giggles and bursts of laughter echo around the room. The smell hits me. I vomit.

The ~Pretty~ holding me promptly turns to the side and vomits, “By The Fist’s middle finger that’s gross. Ugh, he got it into my mouth.” No idea what they’re saying but everyone else looks impressed and is laughing so I’m content with a job well done.

First ~Pretty~ takes me, carries me over to a table and unwraps me. Yeah, that feels not good. She does something with her fingers and they glow a color that I feel, and I’m all clean again. Swaddling me up she walks over to the other ~Pretty~ and does the same and now she’s all clean too.

First ~Pretty~ glares at the others, “Looks like this one is a fighter. We know the drill. He stays here with us for the next six months as his wet nurses before joining the others. If you want to care for him, put your name in the box and we’ll draw lots for who gets which shifts. If you want to become his mother once he transfers you'll let Cleric Strongjaw know when he comes to gather the babe.”

A very small ~Pretty~ raises her hand, “We haven’t had a newborn orphan in nearly three years. Do you think he’ll do well despite being the youngest? Is there anything more we,” she gestures with big swooping arms around the room, “can do to help? I’m happy to have a role that helps keep the city safe, but I just feel like there’s more we can do.” She’s starting to look sad.

Don’t be sad little ~Pretty~, I’ll make you happy. I give her my most heartfelt expression of solidarity, “~PBhttttbh~” I blow at her and laugh to let her know I’m serious. Oooo, that was a lot of work. Sleepy time.

As I drift back off I hear the voices keep talking, bantering, and laughing. Happy Place.