Night licks ever nearer to the hollow in the roots where you have settled, it creeps like a rising tide along the sand. You have never known the sinister face of the shadow world - those writhing arms and greedy fingers that haunt children in restless sleep - but they thicken around you now like an independent entity, a ghost perhaps, and you tremble as fear seizes your heart for the very first time. You crave your mother’s warmth, the constancy of her company; the comfort she has unfailingly offered up until now, to protect your vulnerable imagination from these menacing hours. But she does not come… not yet. Even as the lingering heat stifles and night’s cruel presence harries, you hold hope. Neither your mother nor your father have ever given reason for doubt, and your faith is strong; your trust is pure.

The small body squirms against your narrow, infant breast and you feel heat radiating from its thick, downy coat - your own is shedding and shabby as the winter months grow nearer, but nothing so cozy in comparison. Another life so near brings mild calm to your mind and the tension melts into softer lines along your collapsed, curled frame. As the bitter cycle of your sobbing eases for the moment, so too does the pitiful whimper of the pup, and for the first time you notice the coincidence. Though you have not the capacity yet to truly realise this significance, it amuses you and distracts your thoughts. Thin lips travel down to stroke the creature and the connection between you, skin against fur -sister touching sister - ignites boundless love. The feeling is unexplainable, though equally unmistakable.

It is strange, confuddling, but similar to that feeling you feel whenever your mother and your father are near - that moment their musky breath fills your lungs.

A figure looms beyond your wooden cradle and a relieved sigh escapes you. “Ma…” you hum tiredly as your blurry, tear-stained eyes trace the dim outline of another through the envelope of evening - it could only be her. You feel your entire being begin to relax, to resume that childish resignation that comes so easily - all worry evaporates. Everything is normal now.

But all is not what it seems…

The voice that dances through the zephyr to caress you is not that which you expected, its tone has not the hue of maternal mellowness; it is enquiring, not reassuring, filled with inexperience. The raw, emotional glaze clears from your eyes suddenly, and your widening gaze spills forward into the veil of gloom. Your sister too is awake now though you do not realise, and her striking green stare follows the path of your own. For the moment you forget the trauma you have fled, and the promise of company chokes out that wish for your mother’s overdue arrival (the pain of your hunger) - true to the nature of your age, you find yourself caught in another moment, forgetting recklessly the last.

“Hallo?” You mimic quickly after your last mention. Though your vocabulary remains small (barely one season spent on earth-side), you are understanding more - and this, common greeting, is quite familiar. You pause only a second before offering the next word which usually follows in sequence, “Zah-a…” and without thought you turn a silent introduction to the pup between your knees. Through the haze of grass, thistles, you are unable to discern exactly what this stranger looks like, but the sheltered life you have thus far led feeds into you no reason to feel afraid. Still nestled between roots you lay, but pumping nostrils lift to taste the damp scent of a boy.