Chapter 2 - Mother

"Flax! Tula! Don't torment your brother!"

The sweet, motherly voice sharpened, not bitter but serious and stern. Beyond her, small shapes skittered and broad forms rattled the yielding ground. I was awake but I couldn't be.

This had to be some messed up, extended trip. I'd felt woozy and weird. Perhaps it was a carbon monoxide leak? The living room had a detector plugged into the mainline. If anything happened, then it should be screaming.

Opening what had to be my eyes, I still couldn't make sense of my dimly-lit environment. My perspective wrapped like a fish-eye view in all directions. It was overwhelming. Rolling over in the mud and dirt, I felt sick.

"Grete? What's wrong?" The sharpness of the voice fell away, and calm concern swaddled me. Nothing had changed but everything felt different. The face I had only mulled in my mind loomed over me with attentive care. Those motherly arms, once frantic figments, cradled me.

Was I going mad or was I already there? Did it matter?

Using my unfamiliar legs to right myself, I took in the dome view of my surroundings. Instead of massive monsters dashing by on waves of legs, I could see large creatures scampering through the mounds of mud. Some wore slips of silk, others the woven green fibers of enormous grass blades. Still others bolted about in the frail sheath of a water bubble, while most wore nothing but a thin cloak of slimy muck.

My thoughts returned to the comforting presence at my side. While I had spoken before in alarm, fear, and confusion, I stilled all those feelings to ask, "Where am I? Who are you?"

Stroking what felt like my head with its immense arms, the creature urged, "Think back to before, to your first memories in the restful dusk. You were with all your brothers and sisters. I spoke to you and gave each of you your names. All of you, even those who didn't have the strength to make it here." A shard of sadness trailed after its words.

Did this thing think it was my mother?! My mom was a bitch in a navy-blue blazer who could make me feel as small as an insect whenever I tried to leave my comfort zone, but she wasn't literally one.

Weirdly-breathing through places which were not my mouth, I attempted, "Restful dusk?"

"The time before we felt the graceful comfort of the night. In the shell and sack, where every thought was prepared for us. Oh, sweet Grete, please tell me you understand."

No pressure. It sounded like these creatures had a cheat sheet of what they're supposed to do and know. I missed that. Damn. Was it like genetic memory? What would they do if I couldn't remember? Eat me?

Nature was brutal, that much I knew from streams of British documentaries that put me to sleep at night. Crabs have so many kids, they use it as a chance for a free meal.

Of course, I knew I was most likely in a coma. Valerie found me and I was probably on a bunch of drugs. Until I woke up though, I might as well go with it. So, that meant bracing what I had of a body and admitting, "I don't understand any of this."

It didn't rip me to pieces in a rage or put me in its mouth. That creature, which could've easily destroyed me, cowered in sullen fear and shame. In an instant, it concluded, "I failed you, my darling daughter."

Wait. I was...female? What was the difference? That assumed 'daughter' even met the same thing. But I understood what it was saying and the words themselves made some sort of sense even though this entire thing was crazy. None of the creatures around in my dome-view appeared to react to what was going on between this milk-giving, egg-laying mother-creature, and whatever spawn of it I seemed to be.

Softly, it brushed me and spoke, "We are Shashelm. A name my mother told me before I was born, like her mother before her, as long as each reaches back to the one before. Our kind dwells in the kindness of the night and the embrace of the dark. We cling to the mud, as soft salvation, and treasure what others leave behind. You must always move swiftly and silently for everything outside our home is full of hateful dangers. And worst of those are the Vesperil. If you remember nothing else, I beg you remember this... never ever be in the same place as so much as a whisper on the air of the Vesperil."

Fantastic. Pop out of an egg, immediately learn everything wants to kill you. As I sifted through the names and things I had to watch out for, I decided to settle on one of the nicer thoughts I'd been given, "Home?"

Stress was hard to interpret from its unfamiliar parts, but the dip of its gaze and the looser motions of its limbs made me feel it was more comfortable on the topic of home.

"Home is Mudwell, from which we take our name. It is safe and dark, with cozy hollows and the promise of watery holes and more food than you can ever hope to eat. Home is all of us together so you and...all my little ones may know peace and prosperity. I am your mother."