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Evie
Igasp and sit up in bed, trying to calm my racing heart.
A palm against my chest doesn’t seem to help my stuttering breaths, considering I’m half asleep and disoriented. I thought I heard… No, it couldn’t be… Did I hear a…?
Another sharp cry pierces the quiet darkness. “Whaaaaaaaa!”
Oh, dear gods, I did hear an infant crying in distress.
Well, now I’m certainly awake.
I toss back the thick pile of covers, stumble out of my warm bed and lurch towards the bedroom door. How is this possible? How is there a baby in the vicinity, in the middle of the night? I don’t have any children, or a husband for that matter. I live alone on the planet Salo, at the end of a sleepy street, in a small farming community on the edge of vast countryside.
Nothing interesting ever happens here.
And that’s exactly how I like it.
The crying grows louder, sharper. Primal, protective instincts rage through my veins. My body thrums with urgency as I throw open the bedroom door and flick on lights as I rush down the hall, trying to find the child that needs my help. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” I shout. “Where are you?”
My knee-high socks and long-sleeved nightgown aren’t keeping me warm enough. Shoot, why didn’t I grab my robe? I always set the heater on low at night to save currency and right now I’m regretting that decision—the floors and every surface I touch are icy cold.
I reach the living room, the epicenter of this needy wailing, and place my hand on the doorknob of my front door and…
Wait a minute.
A baby can’t arrive by itself, someone had to bring it to my home, which means there’s probably an adult or adults waiting outside. Is it my neighbor? She and her mate have several offspring, but no baby. I squint and look out through the peephole and find no one standing there. All I see are the edges of an empty porch and the darkness beyond.
Huh.
And then another shuddering cry emanates from the other side of the portal. A whimper of despair escapes my own lips. Oh hells, someone has left a baby alone on my front porch, in the dark cold of night? I must help this child.
The door swings open and the bitter cold hits me hard, causing my nightgown to sweep against my ankles. Jeez. I wrap my arms across my chest for a moment, wishing I’d at least grabbed a blanket to throw over my shoulders because it’s two hours before sunrise—the coldest part of each diurnal.
A fantastically adorable, red-skinned baby blinks up at me and squirms underneath thick blankets inside a basket at my feet. The small face scrunches, tiny fists shake, and the feet kick underneath swaddling. “Oh, sweetie.” I bend down and pick up the baby, along with its blankets, as I’ve seen countless mothers do with their own infants. The delicate white wings and hard black tail easily curve against my arms. The baby sniffs and quiets down as I cradle it against my chest, trying to keep it warm.
None of the known species in the four sectors have wings. This baby isn’t Gravian, the main species living on the planet Salo. In fact, I can’t identify this baby’s species at all. Tiny knobs of what I assume will later be black horns are on either side of its forehead. Tiny ridges line her forehead and the top of her nose. The black, barbed tail pokes out from the back of the baby’s diaper and…and it has two white, feathered wings that look big enough for actual flight.
“Where are your parents?” I question. “Why are you out here, alone?” I glance around my front yard for clues. The circle of light from the porch ends at the base of the steps and beyond that, frost dusts the ground and a wall of fog breaks through the predawn darkness.
I don’t have any neighbors across from me or on my other side. There’s nothing out there but farmland—a patchwork of crops and orchards of nut trees that stretch off into the horizon.
Someone left their baby on my porch, for me to care for? And now I’m worried for the parents of this infant, because their circumstance must be truly dire if they’re leaving their adorable infant with a stranger.
I rock the baby in my arms and bite my lip. I’m the only human in this small farming community, and maybe the only human for hundreds of nanco. Why would anyone leave their baby with a human they don’t even know? Is the mother still nearby and watching? I’d do the same if I found myself in this type of terrible circumstance. I wouldn’t be able to leave my baby behind until I knew for certain that the being I’d chosen had in fact taken in my baby.
“Hello?” I shout out to the abyss. “Is anyone there? Please come out, it’s safe. You can talk to me. I want to help.”
There’s no response.
I smile down at the adorable infant, trying to pretend there’s nothing wrong, when in fact everything is wrong. “What is your name, sweet baby? Why are you here? And most importantly, where are your parents?”
The baby gurgles up at me.
Warmth blossoms in my chest and suddenly I feel it’s my life’s mission to help this innocent child.
And that’s when I find the note that was tucked into the side of the basket, handwritten on parchment with ink. Very old-fashioned and beautiful. I bend down and pick it up and read it several times, trying to wrap my brain around this important news:
This is my daughter, Lyla. Please care for her while I am gone. I will return for her.
