Skeeeer!
It looked to the sky—the enemy it feared—swooping downwards.
Its maw opened wide, lined with rows of jagged, dagger-like teeth, dripping with predatory hunger.
Crazed, bloodshot eyes fixated on the baby.
It's body was covered in a harmonious blend of white, brown, and black—its beauty enough to lower anyone's guard.
Elegance masking threat.
It dove down, talons spread, claws shimmering with killing intent, poised for the kill.
SPLRUUNCH!!
The avian creature collided with the rostrum of the water spirit as she moved to intercept it.
Though made of water, the velocity of the creature made the impact all the more devastating.
Its beak cracked slightly on contact.
Scree!!
It screamed, momentarily caught off guard.
From its vantage point earlier, it had not noticed the spirit—believing her to be a puddle or an inanimate object.
Sensing no life from her, it had deemed her no threat.
But now…
The dolphin, taking advantage of the creature's disorientation, rammed her rostrum into it again.
But this time, she didn't crash into it—the surface tension of her body reduced to nothingness as the avian creature found its head engulfed in her watery form.
The surface tension increased, almost solidifying, to keep it locked in.
Unable to breathe, it flapped its wings vigorously, clawing at the water spirit—each attack hitting nothing but water.
Each motion drained more of its energy, reducing what little oxygen it had left.
In less than a few seconds, the dolphin's watery form bubbled with the last breath of the creature—its eyes wide open, confused until its final moment.
But such was life in the wild.
"This place isn't safe… I need somewhere with a roof," the water spirit reasoned, glancing at the sleeping infant, completely oblivious to what had happened around him.
She had been fending off such threats for months.
The first time one appeared, it had been a miracle that she was present.
After defeating it, she had stayed for days, watching, learning their patterns—all at the cost of the baby's hunger.
But now, she could move with confidence, having learned the usual times they attacked.
Her actions seemed inhuman, as most human infants wouldn't survive beyond the second day.
But luckily, he fed on the body of the water spirit—a spiritual collection of water, dense with mana.
It wasn't ideal. But what did a spirit truly know about caring for a human infant, even with a borrowed memory of human life?
"I will wait until he wakes."
She expelled the creature's body with such intense force that it flew several metres, falling at the edge of the clearing.
"No, it will attract more beasts."
She quickly rushed toward the body, her omnidirectional vision alert for any danger.
She arrived in seconds, her attention still fixed on the baby.
Once again, she absorbed the body into herself, pushing it out with even greater force—the avian's corpse disappearing into the thick foliage.
Quickly, she rushed back to the baby's side.
The infant continued to slumber, trusting in the protective arm—no, fins—of his parent.
After a couple of hours, he stirred awake, the sun long past its peak, slowly creeping toward the horizon.
"Mmmm!!"
He blinked, staring absent-mindedly at the water spirit.
"So cute," the spirit thought, smiling inwardly.
Though not human, she carried fragments of human memory—enough to recognize and cherish the innocence before her.
The infant's brownish-red eyes watched her closely, filled with quiet wonder.
"Ga! Ha!"
Happily, he crawled into her embrace, finally recognizing his mother now that the drowsiness had worn off.
The dolphin carefully held him, her body's surface tension increased just enough to hold him without letting him sink.
Drawing from Theresa's memories, she tossed the baby into the air and caught him again, the infant giggling in delight.
Again, she threw him—the giggles of the infant reverberating through the forest.
Numerous creatures were drawn by his vulnerable laughter—most halting at the edges of the clearing, while smaller critters, reptiles, snakes, and a few rats and squirrels crossed the open space.
The larger, more dangerous creatures could not cross—obstructed by a unique scent emanating from the herbs growing at the clearing's edge.
The aroma acted as a repellent against powerful beasts.
These were measures put in place months ago, as Mira prepared to give birth.
Fortunately, the herbs still held their power—for without them, the infant, even under the spirit's protection, would have long perished, ravaged by the beasts of the forest.
The critters, on the other hand—less of a threat—all met the same fate: caught in the traps.
...
Night fell, the moons replacing the radiance of the sun with their silvery brilliance.
The infant, having tired himself, once again drifted off to sleep—the water spirit keeping watch.
The night was surprisingly calm, as most of the predators were asleep—while the weaker creatures stirred under the cover of darkness, an adaptation born of survival.
"Waa!! Waaa!!"
The infant awoke in the depths of the night, crying.
"Don't cry."
The water spirit took him into her embrace, swaying him gently—yet he didn't settle, his crying continuing.
"What is wrong?" she wondered, scrutinizing him carefully.
From the months spent caring for him, she had realized that crying usually meant hunger, pain, or...
She checked his buttocks, noticing the source of his discomfort.
Reducing the surface tension of her fins, she absorbed the feces, thoroughly cleaning the area.
Then, with a subtle motion, she expelled the waste from her body.
The infant began to calm down.
To soothe him further, she allowed him to suck on her fin—the cool sensation of the spiritual liquid, saturated with mana, easing him back into slumber.
"Sigh..."
She exhaled unconsciously, unaware that she was slowly becoming sentient—clearly exhausted by the unpredictable nature of an infant.
Fortunately, this child was far more resilient than most, or perhaps simply forced to be.
Already walking at four months old, it wouldn't be long before he began to hunt for himself.
She laid him down gently, tucking him comfortably in dry leaves.
Once done, she circled around him again, needing no sleep of her own—ever watchful, guarding him from all possible dangers.
Fulfilling the will of her avatar, which was slowly becoming her own.