Child

The air roared in their ears as they plunged lower. Jere’s eyes locked on the chaos below: imps cutting down knights one by one, their prey shrinking to a desperate mother clutching an unconscious child. The child’s limp body told him enough - she wasn’t sleeping, she was barely hanging on. The fear twisting the mother’s face was worse than anything he’d seen in battle.

The last knight fell screaming, his entrails spilling as an imp’s blade struck. Then the pack began to advance, slow and deliberate, savoring their kill.

Jere snapped his wings wide. They caught the air like vast brakes, the sudden drag nearly ripping the breath from Ylfa’s lungs. He flapped hard twice, bleeding speed, then skimmed low along the road. Ylfa let go, dropping. She hit the dirt and rolled, landing as fluid as if she had rehearsed the move a hundred times.

The imps noticed too late. Even slowed, Jere carved through them in a single blazing pass - five bodies falling with strangled cries before his wings flapped again. He pulled up just as Ylfa’s fireball screamed in behind him.

The blast hit like thunder. The last three imps evaporated in a wave of heat that licked Jere’s wings as he looped overhead. By the time he alighted, Ylfa was already running, sprinting past charred corpses and shattered carriages toward the mother and child.

The woman sat slumped on the dirt, face bone-white, clutching the little girl as though she could fuse her to her chest. The child looked seven or eight at most, honey-blonde hair spilling over her mother’s bloodstained arm.

Wide eyes lifted to the two who approached. In them, Jere saw terror - not of the demons that had killed her escort or of him and the wolf-girl at his side - but for her own future. She opened her mouth anyway, her voice trembling.
“Th-thank you.”

Ylfa dropped to her knees beside her.
“Are you alright?”

The mother gave a faint, broken shake of the head. She shifted her daughter aside, and Ylfa gasped - the woman’s abdomen was torn wide, blood soaking her skirts.

“What can we do? I can’t use light magic…” Ylfa’s voice cracked in panic.

But the mother only smiled weakly. Her gaze slid to the winged figure behind Ylfa.
“Jere. We need to bring them help,” Ylfa pressed.

He lifted his hands, helpless.
“We’re being hunted. No one will follow us.”

Confusion flickered across the dying woman’s face, but she didn’t ask. She didn’t have the time. Her breath rattled, and she forced the words out.
“Please. Formy. Please take my child.”

Ylfa stared at her in horror.
“Take your child?! I can’t - she’s yours!”

The woman’s smile widened, serene even as blood flecked her lips.
“I’m leaving this world. I can feel it. Please… take her. She’s more special than you know. She’ll be of use to you.”

She coughed, crimson spilling down her chin. Ylfa’s hands trembled as she reached out, and the mother lifted the girl toward her. The moment Ylfa gathered the child into her arms, the woman sagged back in relief.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “Now I can rest happy, knowing she is safe.”

Tears blurred Ylfa’s eyes.
“No. Don’t leave me with this. I’ve never had a child…”

The mother’s voice was soft as a blessing.
“What better time than the present?”

A sob tore free of Ylfa’s throat. Jere stepped closer, unsure, his systems whirring in quiet disarray.

The woman’s gaze found him one last time.
“Young man. Demon. I don’t know what you are. But please - take care of her. Help her carry this burden.”

He hesitated, then gave a single, solemn nod.

“I’ve lived a good life,” the mother whispered, exhaling. Her eyes drifted closed. “Take care of her.”

Ylfa clutched the child tight against her chest, sobbing as the woman’s breathing slowed, then stopped.

Jere laid a hand gently on her shoulder. She didn’t look at him, only cried harder, weeping for a stranger who had trusted her with the most precious thing she had - and died with peace because of it.

After some time Ylfa rose to her feet, still cradling the girl against her shoulder. The child slept on, her small breaths steady, almost peaceful. Ylfa turned to Jere, her eyes rimmed with tears.

“What are we going to do?”

He didn’t answer right away. None of his plans - none of the hundreds of scenarios he had rehearsed - had ever included a child. But Ylfa’s gaze made it clear: she would not simply leave her behind.

“We should probably leave her at a city,” he said at last. “Somewhere she’ll be taken care of.”

Ylfa’s arms tightened protectively. Her voice was fierce.
“No. She was entrusted to me. I’m going to look after her.”

Jere exhaled in frustration.
“I can’t fly with a child too-”

“Then we walk,” Ylfa snapped. “Once she wakes up, we can fly again.”

He blinked at her, then gave a slow, resigned nod.
“Okay. What about food?”

“We’ll find it.”

He sighed again, a faint hint of defeat in his voice.
“I suppose it’s too late now to convince you to reconsider.”

She nodded firmly.

“Alright then,” he said. “Let’s go.”

A small smile tugged at Ylfa’s lips. Together they left the road and slipped into the forest. The towering trees swallowed them whole, their canopy dimming the afternoon sun. Branches whispered above as they trudged through undergrowth, the girl’s small body nestled against Ylfa’s shoulder.

But Ylfa’s heart was uneasy.

“Jere?”

“Mm?”

“What are we going to tell her?”

He slowed. He hadn’t considered that. His processors spun through fragments of memory: veterans he had seen broken by loss, strong men and women reduced to shells by the things they’d witnessed. If battle-hardened soldiers could shatter, what chance did a child have?

“I suppose…” he began carefully, “we tell her her mother is gone. That we’ve been left to look after her.”

Ylfa’s ears drooped slightly.
“So we hide the truth from her?”

He shook his head faintly.
“We’re assuming she was unconscious through it all. At least she didn’t see her mother die.”

She exhaled, torn. He had a point. Depending on what the girl had seen before they arrived, she might already bear scars no one could erase. If she had seen the imps slaughtering her protectors, the sight of blood and death might haunt her forever. If not… if she was still innocent, then every effort had to be made to keep her that way.

Ylfa tightened her arms around the girl, silently vowing to protect her, to shield her eyes from whatever horrors still awaited.

The sun dipped low, painting the sky in streaks of crimson and violet. The girl still slept, her honey-blonde hair mingling with Ylfa’s brown, like two opposing streams vying for dominance of the same river.

Ylfa stopped in a small clearing and exhaled.
“Let’s stay here for the night. We can keep moving tomorrow.”

Jere nodded and lowered himself to the ground.

“Jere, can you make a fire? It might get cold tonight.”

He rose again without question, gathering dry wood while Ylfa set her bag aside. She pulled out her knit top, spreading it flat as a makeshift bedding before gently laying the girl on it. It wasn’t quite large enough, but it would do.

Ylfa sighed and glanced up at him.
“I’m going to hunt. Don’t look.”

“Okay.”

She stripped down, shifting in a ripple of muscle and fur into her wolf form. Shaking herself as if casting off water, she turned once, then spoke in a low growl.
“I’ll be right back. Look after her.”

With that, she vanished into the trees.

Jere finished stacking the branches into a fire structure. He extended a wing, plucked one of the drone-feathers, and clicked its engine alive. A low wail echoed in the clearing. He touched the feather’s exhaust to the tinder, and flame burst to life, consuming the brushwood before leaping to the larger branches above. He reattached the feather and folded his wings back in, eyes lingering on the small child resting on Ylfa’s top.

Moments later, Ylfa returned in a crash of undergrowth, a rabbit clamped gently in her jaws. She dropped it beside the fire and gave Jere a quick look.
“Don’t look.”

He turned away until her hand tapped his shoulder again. She was clothed once more, a bright smile tugging at her lips.
“Hey look - you’re improving.”

He nodded, remembering how annoyed she’d been last time when he hadn’t turned at her touch.

She sat beside him, the girl on her other side. With a clawed hand she skinned the rabbit, the firelight painting her features in shifting gold and shadow. Jere found himself captivated, watching the simple efficiency of her movements.

“I ate while hunting,” she said softly. “This is for the girl.”

He nodded. The smell of cooking meat soon joined the crackle of firewood. Above, the sky had turned black, stars glittering like silver coins scattered across the void.

Ylfa’s voice came almost wistful.
“I suppose… we have a child now.”

Jere nodded.

“You don’t mind anymore?” she asked.

He shrugged.
“It means something to you. So I don’t.”

Her smile warmed, and after a moment she leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. His processors scrambled, heart rate spiking, trying to categorize the meaning. The conclusion returned: another instance of love. He froze, unsure what to do. Her ear brushed his cheek, twitching lightly, her hair trailing down his shoulder.

The quiet stretched, broken only by fire crackle and the occasional sigh of wind.

Then a small voice pierced the clearing.

“Mama?”