*Cough*
*Cough*
*Cough*
Deep, ragged coughs echoed through the small house, shaking the quiet morning stillness. Father sat slumped in his chair, clutching a damp cloth to his forehead, its steam rising faintly into the cold air.
"I told you not to go to the festival," Mother scolded gently from behind him, arms crossed but concern in her eyes. "Now look at you you've caught a cold and can't even go to work."
Father coughed again, wheezing out a breath and offering a weak smile. "You were right... but they had meed. And I had trust, honey."
Mother sighed, exasperated. "Was it at least good?"
His smile widened slightly. "It was delicious. If only we could afford good meed every day, darling."
Her cheeks flushed with color. "Well, maybe if you earned a little more, I'd buy you a whole barrel."
It was an exchange unlike any I had witnessed before light, teasing, affectionate. It was the most I'd ever seen them talk since I was born. Most days, Father left before dawn and returned after dark, his time swallowed by labor. Today, though, was different.
Today, he was home. Sick, but home.
Almost a whole year had passed since my birth, and I was finally learning to control my limbs and emotions. I couldn't speak yet, but I understood much more than they knew. When Mother left for the market, she gently placed me in Father's lap, confident he'd manage me despite his state.
I wasn't so sure.
He looked half-dead, draped over the chair like a discarded coat. Medieval-level healthcare didn't exactly inspire confidence, and judging by how casually I was left with him, I doubted I was their first child. Probably just the first to survive.
So I did what I had to.
I tugged at his shirt with tiny fists, pulling and biting the fabric until he stirred.
"Huh?" Father blinked blearily, lifting his head. His voice was thick, stuffed with congestion. I pointed toward the bedroom.
"The bed," he muttered, understanding. "Yeah, yeah... good idea."
He shuffled to his feet and staggered into the bedroom, collapsing onto the mattress with a groan.
And just like that.
"Hehehe. It's finally time for me to explore."
I wriggled down from the bed, crawled through the open bedroom door, and entered the living room like a conquering general. It was my first taste of independence. My heart thumped with excitement.
The door to the outside stood in front of me like a final boss. Through its slits, I saw the sky gray and brooding. The wind howled faintly, and the scent of wet leaves hung in the air. Autumn had arrived.
I reached for the handle, only to realize I was barely clothed. Most days, Mother tucked me into her shirt to keep me warm. We were too poor for luxuries like fur coats or woolen wraps, especially when children outgrew them within a year.
Still, the urge to step out into the wider world buzzed through me. So close, and yet still behind one thin, splintered door.
But it wouldn't be long now.
To the left of the door leaned a wooden broom. I crawled to it, pushed it down with effort, and let it fall against the base of the door. With a loud clack, the old latch popped loose. A gust of wind pushed the door inward slightly. My heart pounded with a mix of triumph and nerves.
I had gained access to the beyond the world beyond the walls of my home.
One arm, one leg at a time, I crawled over the threshold. The cold stone of the outer steps felt foreign against my palms, but my body quickly adjusted. I pushed forward, determined. I had a goal.
The library.
I'd overheard Mother talking about it in the market, a place near the center of town. It was far farther than any baby should dream of crawling but it called to me. Books called to me. Knowledge called to me.
But ambition has limits.
The wind picked up, the chill biting at my skin. My tiny muscles ached from the effort. Still, I pressed on, teeth clenched, heart burning.
Until I heard it
*Moo*
I froze.
*Moo* Louder this time.
From an alley, a massive creature emerged. It was nothing like the cows from my previous world. This beast looked more like a grizzly bear its body completely covered in thick, shaggy fur, save for a long, narrow, hairless face. It had small round ears, a long tail, and it mooed like some ancient, wild thing.
An Auroch.
She was massive, and judging by the absence of horns a young one.
She approached slowly, curious, her nose twitching. Then she lowered her head and sniffed me.
Her nose was icy, and the shock made me shudder. My body tensed, and tears welled in my eyes. Before I could stop myself, I began to cry loud, helpless wails that echoed off the stone walls.
The Auroch stepped back at first, startled. But then she leaned in and… licked me. Her tongue was warm. Softer than expected. Comforting.
She nudged me again, gently this time, then bit the back of my shirt. My body lifted as she tossed me up onto her back. The thick fur enveloped me like a heated blanket.
I blinked in disbelief.
A moment later, she turned and began walking. I flailed slightly, trying to point toward the center of town, toward the library, kicking with my feet like a miniature cowboy.
She ignored me.
Instead, she turned and wandered toward the woods at the edge of town.
"Huh? Where are we going?" I muttered internally, clinging to her fur as the trees grew closer.
Whatever her plan was, I was along for the ride.
Soon we were deep within the woods.
The canopy overhead thickened as the Auroch carried me further from town. The gray clouds above tried to pour light through the shifting sea of leaves, but the forest greedily devoured it. The trees were tall, their branches tangled and heavy, fighting one another for every scrap of sunlight. The leaves had begun to turn fiery reds, burnt oranges, and brittle yellows signs that the season was dying.
It was both beautiful and terrifying. The woods whispered with the creak of old limbs and the occasional scurry of life. Shadows moved in ways they shouldn't, and the wind carried a chill that sank into my tiny bones. There could be anything lurking in here: hunters, wolves, or something worse. Something that would take down the Auroch first and then me.
I couldn't die again. Not yet. Not like this.
But still, the forest held a strange tranquility. Deer, thin and quick, nibbled at sparse patches of undergrowth. Squirrel-like rodents darted through the branches, their cheeks stuffed with berries and nuts. Despite the looming threat of nature, there was order here harsh, but alive, And then, nestled among the trees like a secret too stubborn to be erased, I saw it.
A cabin, Half-sunken into the soil and flanked by moss-covered stones, the wooden structure stood in quiet defiance of decay. The roof sagged with age, its edges curled like paper left too close to flame. Vines clung to its frame like a second skin, wrapping around windowpanes so smudged they looked painted over, but it hadn't collapsed. Not yet.
The Auroch trudged up to the front of the cabin and let out a soft, guttural sound *Moo* as we approached. I gripped her fur tightly, staring at the worn wood, the crooked door, the rusted handle barely hanging on.
Why here? Who lived or had lived out in this forgotten pocket of the forest?
The Auroch lowered herself gently to the ground, letting me slide off her back with a thud onto the soft bed of leaves. She wandered toward the side of the cabin and lay down.
I stared at the door.
It creaked slightly in the wind.
Was this a coincidence? Or had she brought me here for a reason?
I was a baby. I could barely walk. I shouldn't be here.
And yet… I was.
And something about this place felt like it was waiting.
"Daisy? Is that you out there? Did you wander off again?" The voice was deep and weathered, like gravel grinding beneath boots. The door creaked again—this time not from the wind—and a face peeked through the gap. His hair was white as snow, uneven and wild, and one eye was missing, replaced by a sunken, scarred hollow. The other eye, pale gray and sharp, squinted into the light.
He stepped outside with cautious effort, wrapping a thick leather coat around himself. Fur lined the collar, aged but clean, and his movements, though slow, were practiced.
"Is that… a baby?" he muttered, his breath visible in the chill air. He stared long and hard at me—too long. The way his eye scanned my face, then drifted lower to the space around me, made me shiver. There was something analytical in his expression, something almost fearful.
"Have you been cursed?" he whispered.
He stepped closer. I tried to back away, but my limbs weren't built for escape.
He stopped in front of me, frowning. "You have an aura… something wrapped around your soul. Like a chain… blackened and ancient. That's not natural. That's not from this world." He bent down slowly. "A baby cursed by a demon. It has to be the Monarch's doing."
He scooped me up with a grunt and cradled me carefully in his arms. Despite his gruffness, his hold was surprisingly gentle. "You're coming inside," he muttered, turning toward the cabin.
He carried me through the old wooden door—and the moment we crossed the threshold, the world changed.
From outside, the house looked weathered, possibly abandoned. But inside? It was clean, warm, and surprisingly vast. A hearth glowed in the corner, casting a soft orange light across shelves lined with scrolls and books. Rugs layered the wooden floor, and the air smelled faintly of herbs, smoke, and leather. On one side, a desk stood crowded with vials, inks, and feathers. On the other, a wall stacked floor-to-ceiling with tomes.
"It's not a library," I thought, eyes wide in wonder. "But it's better than my home."