He thought he would be happy.
The person who had cursed him looked like she was dying. And maybe it was because of him.
As that thought crossed his mind, it caused him to shudder in fear as he felt a wave of guilt rush over him.
"No, that's not right; I didn't do this... What kind of baby knows curse magic?"
Finding solace in this revelation, his mind switched from thoughts of guilt to contemplating what exactly happened here to give the woman that kind of injury.
"At least one thing makes sense: the reason why she's running is to get away from the person that gave her that cut... or wound, maybe... Now that I think about it, where is that blood even coming from?"
Squinting his big round eyes, the babified man searched for the source of the bleeding; however, what he found only reinforced his belief that the woman carrying him was a demon. Within the hood, what he took to be just shadows were really small, black, shiny, scale-like protrusions rising from her neck and the base of her head.
"So the demon girl is getting chased down; I get it... "
Just then, a harrowing thought nestled itself within the child's mind.
"Wait… No, that couldn't be right... Am I—"
Just before he could finish piecing it all together, a piercing whistle interrupted his thoughts, causing the woman to dart quickly to the side, kicking up a storm of grass and dirt as she did so.
The woman didn't have the luxury of stopping; she couldn't even afford to slow down, all she could do was continue her sprint, now sporadic and even faster than before.
It was an arrow, and if she hadn't taken that evasive manoeuvre, it would currently be sitting pretty, lodged in her forehead.
"Oh yeah, Mama's a badass!" he thought to himself.
Before the deadly interruption, the babified man was coming to the final conclusion that he was, in fact, the woman's child. After all, although he had no idea what she was saying, he could recognize the face of a mother talking to her child. The reason he had not realized earlier was... well, because he didn't think he was a baby, and when he realised he was a baby, he retroactively thought of the woman's glares as nothing more than childish taunts made toward a helpless victim.
"Mamma vil passe på deg, det er bare litt lenger nå. Ok, hold fast, det kan bli litt humpete." the woman said, her expression more excited than before.
"Hold fast? Did she just speak English? And why in the world is she telling a baby to hold onto anything? I can't even lift up my own head; if shit hits the fan, I'm a goner!"
Just as the woman finished her sentence, she got into a squat position and held it for a few seconds. The woman's new stance caused the child's eyes to squint in confusion.
"Trust me, as someone who no longer has control of their bowels, I get it; when you gotta go, you gotta go. But now really isn't the tim—"
In a split second, the two ascended at breakneck speed.
The woman cradled her child within her arms as she flew through the branches and leaves above her, only increasing the already substantial damage she had taken. And then, all of a sudden, the resistance was no more, and at that same moment, the mother unfurled herself, allowing him to see where they now were.
"WE'RE GOING TO THE FUCKING MOON? Is this just a normal thing here? Are these rocket-propulsion-leg-half-demon-hot-mind-reader-women just lying about everywhere or what?"
Soon his initial reaction subsided, replaced by a feeling of awe.
As the cool night breeze caressed his blood-stained cheek, and moonlight glistened against his mother's pure white hair, he felt, just for a brief moment, like he was in heaven.
Then they began to descend.
"Holy shit! Do they not fit their rocket women with built-in parachutes in this world? Mayday! Mayday!"
Though he could not see the ground, he knew it was quickly approaching. And at that height, with the speed that they were moving at, there was no chance they were going to make it out unscathed. Well, his mother might be fine, but he was about to be baby sidewalk soup.
However, just before the moment of impact, he felt a sudden lift, as if the world had paused for an instant. He was gently thrown into the air, weightless and free, his heart racing with a mix of fear and dread. The woman landed with a thunderous crash, sending stone splinters from the road beneath her flying out in all directions. As she righted herself from the landing she stretched out her arms and caught the babified man, allowing him to land softly in his mother's waiting arms, her embrace warm and reassuring.
But all the warmth and reassurance in the world wasn't going to stop him from barfing the entire contents of his stomach out on the ground in front of him. Completing the 'baby's holy trinity of excretion' all within just a few seconds.
Gasp, "I need a mint." gasp.
"Mamma er så tøff, er hun ikke, lille mann?"
"Yeah, Mom, very cool, nice jump; you should join the Olympics. Now please, can you get me a mi—"
A stream of vomit interrupted his mental request.
Regaining his composure, the child once again shifted his gaze, this time to the environment around them. They were no longer in the forest anymore, instead, they now stood in front of what seemed to be a large, ornate, church.
"I'm not one to talk down on religion but I really don't think now is the time to..." his internal monologue was cut short as he looked up at his mothers face. Instead of a reassuring gaze, he was met by a torrent of tears even greater than the stream of blood beside it.
"What? Did I do something wrong? Was it the barf? I mean, I'm a baby; what do you want? For me to clean it up? Come on now!"
The child's attempts at humour once again fell upon deaf ears. He had no way of communicating with the woman, and the woman had no way of communicating with him. Despite this, he was able to understand what was going on.
"I'm never going to see her again, am I?"
The lady put down her child on the stone path where she had landed, tears now welling up from both of their eyes, and planted a heavy kiss on his forehead.
"Jeg vil alltid elske deg."
Those would be the last words he ever heard from his mother, and the haunting sight of her back, turning away from him as she ascended toward the sky would remain etched in his memory forever.
And within that heartache, the boy uttered his first words.
"Mamma?"