“Darrow, get up.”

Unmistakably, that voice was what woke me up.

When I opened my eyes, I did so slowly, parting my lids with an apparent difficulty that weighed. So then I fallen in reason.

Was it at night?

But no, the place was just extremely dark. I could see light above my head, a torch, it seemed. It was attached to the wall.

Wall? Where I am?

The wall was made of wood, a cold, dark wood. But what at first seemed like it was going to be my main concern took a back seat when my hands appeared in my field of vision.

Why are my hands so small?

More exactly, what I had to ask myself was: Why do I have the hands of a newborn baby?

But it wasn't just that, but also the fresh blood that covered and dripped down my short, obese arm.

When I realized how difficult it was for me to breathe, my nostrils reminded me of smells. Then I remembered the smell I felt from my sister's newborn son when we went with the family to meet him for the first time.

In addition, I could hear a tireless and inexhaustible heartbreaking and pitiful cry. It echoed in my ears.

I tried to fool myself, my brain told me that the light was so poor and the darkness so great, that it simply created the red effect on my arms and drew the small and short shape of my hands. The smell was easy to explain if we blamed the fact that I had forgotten how to breathe and the first thing I remembered when I regained my sense of smell was my sister's son.

But that didn't improve my situation, it only changed my priorities. And my priority now was to know why I would be in this place.

The torch up there looks very far away. Even standing up I wouldn't be able to feel the heat of those flames on my face; that's how high it was.

But when these doubts tormented my confused mind, my senses made me cognizant of something; I was not alone. There were others nearby.

I just had to think that I really wanted to find out who was out there in the dark and my new feelings would even let me hear their heart rate.

I expected them to be human, for some strange reason. Because even a beast's claws were safer than a human's mind.

“My little one, are you there?” asked the voice, probably a woman's.

I would have liked to make the fatal and tragic mistake of briefly saying 'yes', but when I tried to modulate the affirmation, my lips only released a strangled moan.

“I can hear you, my little one. Don't worry, mom is here to take care of you," added the person. “With me, nothing bad can happen to you.”

What?

No, really. What did all this mean? Where was I? And why?

At that moment, I could feel myself being grabbed from behind with force and being pushed up. Involuntarily, my hands inertiaed somewhere in my blurry darkness and grabbed something soft and smooth.

I had no idea what was going on. But apparently, the exquisite taste in my mouth that touched my palate told me that I was drinking milk. It was warm, really tasty, and it calmed my heart.

“Looking at me with those eyes won't solve anything,” the female voice said, low and annoyed.

There was a sound, like the legs of a wooden chair hitting a stone floor.

“I am deeply sorry, my love!” a voice that sounded like a man answered. “Tell me what you want, a blanket? Something to eat? Shall I call the midwife? Your best friend?" The man's tone was considerably anxious. He looked scared, afraid of the possible consequences.

Thanks to the torchlight, I was able to make out a bit of the man. This man's hair was white, like snow...

“No, just give me your hand,” said the woman.

“My hand? Okay…,” the man's voice said, calming down.

They seemed to have reconciled. But in the overall picture of what was going on in my ears, all my attention was on sucking the milk most efficiently. It was like a smooth adrenaline nectar.

I felt nervous, too. Not being able to see was annoying. For the simple fact that I felt people around me and I couldn't see them.

Anyway, I don't know any of these people. At least their voices are unrecognizable. I thought.

Judging by the way they spoke to each other, he I tell that they were a first-time couple. But exactly who?

It was curious. The image of no one came to my mind. No face was associated with the owners of these voices.

“Look at his fingers, Reynolds... It's beautiful...” the female voice said, with emotion.

“It is, my dear,” the man said, coming closer. “It's the most beautiful little thing I've ever seen in my entire life.”

Suddenly, my eyes began to burn. Almost as if I was crying, a liquid fell from my eyes and at that moment, a radiant light made me squint.

When I opened them, I found that I was able to see normally.

I was in a... cabin? The walls were made of wood, as were the beams that supported the thatched roof. I could see a bookcase with strange figures and on top of it, a rusty metal sword holder. Away from the bookcase, there was a rustic fireplace with a warm fire that reached up to me. I was in a bed, more exactly, in a blanket surrounded by the thin white arms of a woman...

The place had an old-fashioned feel, as if I were in a museum featuring the historic home of some important medieval figure. But the strangest thing was the man in front of me.

For starters, he was the same white-haired guy. He had brown eyes, small lips, a straight, pointy nose, prominent, slanted eyebrows as if he were angry, and an unkempt beard. But his physical appearance was the least of it when I saw what he was wearing.

An... armor?

The way I saw it, the only way to describe this man's full-body metallic suit was nothing more and nothing less than medieval armor.

And that stick on his waist... Is it a real sword?

An armor, a helmet and a sword.

It all came together to give me the same answer. It was an undeniable fact.

“Hello, little Darrow... I'm your daddy, can you say daddy?”

¿Huh?