Chapter 10 – Adaptation
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Chapter 10 - Adaptation

I like to think I'm not dumb. I made it to a decent college of mom's choice. The big bookshelf in the front room has an overflowing portfolio of my A+ work archived so no one can ever see it again. And I can eventually figure stuff out.

Transitioning back to the musty, muddy warm embrace of that cave of bugs should've brought everything into crystal-clear focus. This was my life now. But still, I probed every thought for the illusion of dreams, drugs, or delirium.

It didn't help that something was indeed different. The brutal, alien reality had passed through another filter. Beneath me, I could see small, child-like hands twisting and turning in a patch of drying mud. My eyes still swarmed with information on all sides, but my mind filtered it into something that felt normal. It was like how your nose never interrupts your view of the world.

Speaking of noses, a phantom of a human nose nagged me in a familiar way. Reaching up to touch my face, I felt a sleek softness like a child would know. A disheveled mop of hair lay across my forehead. Beyond that, things started to get confusing.

Antenna, like responsive antlers, probed the air and the delicate, paper-mache quality to my back had hardened to polished but responsive stone. My mind flitted from a feeling of strange shoes, wide hooves, and a flurry of feet holding me up before settling on something broad and Hobbit-like.

Stretching as far as possible, I looked down. I could see a little girl, a trembling, uncertain street urchin. She wore a simple shift, little more than an old, tattered top that barely passed her legs. Fumbling with it in embarrassment, I wished for the security of pants or at least a skirt.

What was I seeing, reality or an illusion? Before felt like a bunch of photos bound together by rubber bands with edges of several images crammed awkwardly against one another. Now, they were shuffled into a more cohesive vision. But was that because I was closer to the truth or further from it?

Examining the others, they didn't appear different. But it felt like putting on a pair of glasses. Father's intimidating bulk still loomed like I was a tiny toddler beside a man dashed with smoldering nutmeg. The crags and folds of his weathered features told stories of survival I'd never noticed before. He lived a hard life and could've been as jagged as a jewel but, instead, his presence softened like fresh, lumpy dough.

Sana, still sleeping like the rest, retained an attentive, burning presence. Reflections of Scarlett Johansson seemed too obvious a comparison. Sana wasn't a movie star any more than father. Those were just landmarks in my mind. Besides, some sliver of my human self felt flush with embarrassment at such a vision, flaked with mud and wearing less than me.

Silt tumbled between an assortment of rugged heartthrobs with sensitive underbellies while retaining the awkward impression of a 90s sitcom actor. As for mother-bug, it was easy to slip into a maternal dreamland of a manga big sister I'd seen during a phase when carts stacked with endless titles sold in every mall.

The thought of "mother" was still too raw and wretched. Mother-bug deserved better than that. Staggering onto my uncertain feet, I wobbled over to her side. Gently, like a whisper in the shadowy warmth of the mud cavern, I wiped away the rough motes from her features while sharing what moisture was left on me.

Desperately hunting for drops of dew, I hopped back in surprise when I saw she'd been watching me for some time. "Good dusk, my darling. But why are you already up? You should be resting. Come here."

She wrapped herself around me in ways I understood and which my mind still grappled with. Her hands stroked and settled my wild hair. I'd dreamed more than once that mom would do that, but she chuckled when I tumbled and admonished me for red-faced weeping. When a teacher blamed me for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, I had to hide away in a closet and trace a hand over my own head in the dark, inventing an invisible, caring parent trying to comfort me.

But I didn't have to pretend here. Above me, that mother-bug...that real-mother...reached down and touched my cheek. She wiped away tears only I could feel. Though it didn't come out the same way, I cried like I hadn't in decades.

Through the turbulence of my emotions, she bent close and begged, "My little one, my precious darling, whatever is the matter? Do you hurt? Did your sister's tale frighten you? If it's anything I can help, please tell me."

She couldn't help and yet every word and feeling was a balm for wounds I'd let fester in the hope they might just heal on their own. I wanted to scream and wail, but I didn't want to give her stress and fear she could do nothing about.

So it might be something she could understand, I wrapped my emotions in my failure as an egg. She cradled me and assured, "We will protect you. We will make sure you have everything you need. Just ask. Just lean on any of us. There's no reason to fret. Please don't be sad, my precious little one. Where there is life, we can always find hope and joy."

It wasn't long before the others woke, and I nervously found myself the center of attention. Sana pierced my distress with intimidating caresses like she sought to assassinate whatever made me upset.

I made it clear her story hadn't bothered me. Nor was I afraid of leaving my family...yeah, my family...and traveling alone outside. And Silt's "scary face" hadn't spooked me either. Still, she hoarded me when real-mother relented enough to allow her.

Their words and embraces helped so much but I needed time. Between grooming, Sana listed out the things to never eat. "Avoid the burning yellow fruit as much as the scorching light. Also, look out for the shards of black seed. Some seeds are good, and others warn you. Heed their warnings. Anything that makes too many bubbles will choke your air and poison your water. I'll keep bringing you good things so you can remember and recognized them instantly."

As she continued, I determined the bitter, wailing root with burning layers resembled an onion. Picking out lemons and various spicy things, I thought about how I had terrible, allergic reactions to all those things in my other life. Perhaps I was always meant to be here, like a foreshadowing of reincarnation if that's what this truly was.

While I quipped and glossed over some lessons the night before, I paid careful attention to Sana's warnings. At some point, the skittish duo of Ewan and Beryl joined to stammer out their own thoughts.

Beryl began, "B-but you must never eat super super sweet. Anything could be a tasty trap of turbulent terrors! Nibble it but be ready to get rid of it if it seems wrong but then everything can seem wrong and you can never really know without appropriate testing. The Woodlies down the scary swarm cave told me that is how the...the..t-the bad things happen. You're just doing something normal and then...pop...dead from the food you thought you could trust."

Skeptical, Ewan leaned on a limb and asked, "But why would Woodlies be in mud? They should be in wood."

Beryl hopped in and resolved, "Because their wood was too sweet sweet and they died!"

Ewan's bent back. "Woah. I didn't know there were dead Shashelm in here. Spooky. If they're dead, then that must be really hard on them."

"Maybe they are dead but still alive. Like they got attacked by something you can't even see!"

Ewan chimed in, "And it could be anywhere! Even right here!"

At his gesture, they both rushed off screaming with real-mother stretching to shelter them.

Oh, brothers...

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