The brilliance of the sun peered through the canopies of trees, beams of light hitting the grass field below, littered with dead leaves and animal droppings.
Meeh!! Meeh!!
Snow-white goats, spotted with numerous black spots, lay under the beams of light, crying in delight at the sun's warmth.
Rustle!!
Alarmed, they all turned their heads almost in sync toward the source of the sound, their horizontal pupils fixed on the same spot, yet there was nothing—only a puddle of water.
No danger detected, they let their guard down, once again enjoying their daily routine of sunbathing.
Thirsty, one of the goats rose to its feet, its gaze fixed on the puddle.
Only after watching the others drink did it gather the courage to take a cautious step forward.
The others, wary of their surroundings, had already left — afraid that another creature, perhaps a predator, might come to take a sip as well.
It walked toward it, its ears perked, eyes darting, wary of its environment.
It was a herbivore, normally prey to the predators of the forest, and this forest was particularly vicious—its anxiety founded.
It approached the puddle, lowering its head to drink — ears perked, muscles tense, ready to flee at the slightest provocation.
As its tongue touched the puddle's surface, it shimmered, an unknown force pulling the entirety of its body into it.
With a splash, its whole body sank into the puddle.
All its caution and readiness proved fruitless against whatever force had snatched it
The splash caught the goats' attention as they once again turned their heads toward the noise—the puddle no longer there, their comrade no longer present—not that they cared.
Noticing there was nothing to fear, they resumed their sunbathing, unaware that their numbers had been reduced.
______________
A few miles away, a burnt-down cabin stood, its walls completely collapsed, broken charred pieces of wood surrounding it.
A baby barely four months old sat in these ruins, playing with crickets and other bugs who had been unfortunate enough to cross its path, its giggles reverberating as it crushed the creatures against each other, finding delight in their crunching sounds.
Unaware of the harm it caused.
"Hey, don't play with that..."
The voice didn't echo in sound but in sensation — the intent known, the words unheard yet it meant the same.
It hadn't heard the words, not truly. They were unintelligible, yet the intent came through as clear as day.
A form of telepathic communication — not through language, but emotion. No words, only meaning, delivered straight to the mind.
With a smile that could melt any mother's heart, it turned, throwing away the bugs.
Someone better had come, his mother.
In his line of sight, a creature hovered slightly above the ground, its body made entirely of water—clear blue, glowing under the glare of the sun, reflecting and refracting its radiance.
A dolphin.
Within its body was a black-spotted goat, vigorously thrashing around, scared and agitated at its current predicament.
It had just tried to take a sip of water but now found itself trapped inside a strange being.
"Gu!! Gu!! Gu!!" Giggling happily to itself, the baby awkwardly walked toward the water spirit, its steps careful and deliberate, as if a misstep could lead to its demise.
Slowly, it walked toward the spirit, giggling in delight.
"Well done," the spirit praised as it carried the baby with its watery fins, placing it on a nearby log—one of the few that still held their form.
"Here, I brought you your meal,"
It positioned the udder of the goat outward, the teats now exposed.
The goat could not resist, thrashing around vigorously, doing all it could to resist the pull—all for naught.
Its body felt heavy, unable to go against the current, as its head was in a bubble of air, the rest of its body in the watery form of the dolphin.
Hurriedly, the baby grasped the teats, suckling on them happily.
"Praise be to Thalassia," the spirit thanked its god.
After saving the baby four months ago, life had been difficult.
A spirit and familiar—the second-to-last ranked spirit—trying to cater to a human infant proved difficult.
Spirit not truly of the world.
Spirits depended on the mana of their contractors, unable to exist in reality without it.
Aware of this, the elderly woman had pumped the last of her mana, including her life force, into the spirit, allowing it to live on even without her.
She knew not of politics nor cared for its implications.
A child was innocent and, no matter what, shouldn't pay for the mistakes of its parents.
The spirit had to depend on the memories of its contractor—the last gift she had given before her final breath: her will to care for the child until her mana depleted.
It had to go through trial and error, adapting her contractor's memories to life in a forest.
It had made mistakes, bringing in creatures that did not even produce milk—sometimes a virgin goat or even a male goat—but after several trials and errors at the expense of the infant, it finally got it right— now able to identify the right creatures to feed the baby.
"Gu!! Gu!!" Satisfied, the child slowly drifted to sleep.
Splash!!
The water spirit released the spotted goat, the creature sprinting away at full speed, elated that it had somehow survived.
"I will come back for you tomorrow," the dolphin thought, looking in the direction of the retreating goat.
It turned its attention to the sleeping baby.
"I have to keep it warm," it thought to itself, moving to the corner where dried leaves were kept.
Considering its body was made of water, it scooped the dried leaves, quickly rushing to the baby's side.
It then placed the parts of the leaves not in contact with its body onto the baby, throwing the rest back into the corner to dry.
Done, it stayed on guard, circling the baby continuously, watching for any predators.
Hissss!!
It paused, quickly catching the sound of an approaching snake—the snake as large as an average man's arm.
The spirit only glanced at it, resuming its circling.
A mere snake was not a threat.
The snake, unaware of the spirits presence, slithered closer, its head lowered, careful not to make a sound.
Hissss!!
It hissed in agony, unknowingly slithering on sharp thorns that surrounded the broken-down cabin—security measures the spirit had put in place.
Hissss!!
The snake, feeling threatened, wrapped itself around the thorns, each movement causing the thorns to dig deeper, enraging it further.
As it continued to tighten, the process led to its death—dying at the hands of an inanimate object.
The spirit, paying no heed to the snake, continued circling around.
Smaller creatures could not overcome the security measures it had put in place—thorns, trenches, and even poisons—measures to protect the baby when it was away hunting.
The tactics were effective against most of the smaller creatures, especially land-based ones, its wariness directed toward the creatures of the sky.
Skeeeer!
It looked to the sky—the enemy it feared—swooping downwards.