Humans Bite Back
CHAPTER 3: RUDE AWAKENING

I did a series of cartwheels across the night sky, suddenly, my instincts kicked in, and I reacted by bracing for impact and anticipating a pain that never came.

Instead, I found myself inching along a narrow path, head first, out of a warm wet canal towards a bright light that awaited to greet me at the end of the journey. Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the FɪndNøvel.ɴᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

I screamed out of the shock of cold air touched my skin, and cried some more as rough fingers engulfed me. A giant face beamed down at me, and though I had thought it friendly, it then opened its mouth and displayed two rows of enormous teeth.

I attempted to wiggle out of the grasp of the giant witch, and for a moment, I had succeeded, but she had quick reflexes and managed to catch me before I could slip away. Chilly and frightened, I was confident that this was the end.

“He’s a slippery little sucker,” she commented as she began to wrap me in a blanket that felt as if it had been soaked in starch. It itched, and as I fought against the fabric, it only brought me more discomfort, which inspired me to wail some more.

“He’s got a good set of lungs on him,” a familiar voice to my right said. Hearing the voice shocked me into silence; I pivoted in an attempt to find the owner of that delicious tone.

I was disappointed when all I could see was a stark white wall, dull tiled flooring, and a sturdy, but ugly, chair.

I was about to give up on the voice when a pair of large green water eyes leaped into my vision, startling me so much that I felt my bowels released in response.

The green eyes grew larger for a moment, and a pair of gigantic nostrils quivered as the familiar voice said, “I think he just had his first poop.”

Suddenly a foul smell floated up to my nostrils, and I attempted to bury my head in the rough blanket, repulsed by the odor.

“Bring him to me,” another familiar voice, one that sent my heart into cartwheels. I balled up my fist and began punching the burlap fabric with my knuckles; I kicked my feet out wildly in response to that sweet voice that I had somehow forgotten until now.

The giant with the green eyes was in my sights now, further away, and suddenly I realized why I had recognized the voice. It was my Aunt Finn, my mother’s twin whom my father hadn’t allowed me to see in a decade. Not because my Aunt Finn had done anything wrong, but it was because she had reminded him so much of my mother.

“Mommy!” the name suddenly sprung to mind. I realized that was who had spoken. I fought wildly, desperate to be united with her, though I was confused as to how this could be. Was she alive? Am I dead? I was so confused.

Giant Finn was still in my sights; she had a soft smile on her face and was shaking her head. “Aurora has to make haste to get him cleaned up for the ceremony.”

“We were never blessed, and we turned out just fine,” my mother said in a stubborn tone. “Yes, I will be just fine,” I thought as I continued to claw at my fabric prison, “Just leave me here with her.”

“Yes, but we are girls,” Finn reminded her. “Boys need a little push, especially if you hope for him to have any power at all.”

My mother grunted in response. I imagined her crossing her arms and looking like a disgruntled child at that moment.

“The Mother Supreme herself is going to perform the ceremony,” Finn continued and paused, bouncing me for a moment; I was supposed to gauge my mother’s reaction.

The Mother Supreme performing the ceremony must have been a big deal because my mother gasped. “The Mother Supreme is coming all of this way!....just for my son?”

“Don’t get too cocky,” Finn scolded her playfully. “I’m sure she’s only coming because the other Grand Priestess is otherwise engaged.”

My mother squealed, undeterred. “I can’t believe the Grand Supreme is coming,” something in Finn’s expression must have caused her to pause in her excitement because my mother reigned back her joy and said in a sympathetic voice, “It will be your turn one day.”

The hands that held me drew me up and clasped me against a soft cushion. I could hear a beat drumming from beneath the soft folds. The sound was comforting, and though I fought it, I could feel my eyelids flutter. A smooth but grave voice spoke from the folds. “I’m going to bathe and prepare him now.”

I felt a bit of a jounce as I felt myself travel helplessly from one cold white room to another. Once there, the lady I assumed was named Aurora sat me down on a firm surface and began to remove the rough but warm fabric.

The cold air hit my skin once again; my arms shot out as my fingers clawed the air, and my legs straightened as my toes curled in reaction.

“There now, take it easy,” Aurora cooed as she placed a warm wet washcloth against my skin and began to bathe my limbs. The moist warmth reminded me of the canal I had just been rudely ejected from, and the reminder brought me enough comfort that the urge to scream died in my throat.

Aurora reached over, grabbed a container, and sprinkled powder on me before encasing my bottom in cloth that was softer than the blanket she had wrapped me in only moments ago. She then took out a fresh blanket, swaddled me, and placed a cap over my head.

She had just finished redressing me when a rattling sound interrupted us, followed by a strong and pungent scent.

Aurora abandoned me as she spun around in the direction in which the sound had come. “Mother Supreme,” she gasped and bobbed in a mild curtsy before moving aside.

A giant woman, who couldn’t have been taller than Aurora but still managed to tower over her, approached me and began to examine me. She grimaced down at me with painted blue eyes and a frowning red mouth. I was seized with horror, and my lungs let out a whoosh of breath followed by a blood-curdling scream.

“Leave us,” the supreme witch ordered in an unimpressed tone. Aurora didn’t hesitate as she rushed out of the room, shutting the door closed behind her.

Once Aurora was gone, it was only the painted witch and me. I was still terrified, but my screams died down as curiosity won over my terror.

The high-ranking witch opened up her dress and extracted a tiny vial that appeared to be ashes. She uncorked the vial and dipped her fingertip inside the mouth. When she withdrew her finger, it was covered in soot. “A bit of ash from the great oak,” she said in a soft tone as she began to paint a symbol on my forehead.

Once she was done, she inspected her handiwork before corking the vial and returning it to the folds of her dress. She then lifted her arms and opened her mouth as if she meant to chant an incantation, but then she froze.

From the depths of her open mouth, a gurgling sound emerged, and the grand witch’s arms seemed to turn to jelly. Her hands moved in the direction of her chest but paused as her eyes rolled into the back of their sockets and suddenly tilted slightly to the left, then the right, before finally collapsing back with a dull thump.

I didn’t know if this was part of the ceremony or not, so I waited, but she didn’t return, and I suddenly had the chilly feeling of being alone. I opened my mouth to call for help, but I couldn’t seem to form any words, so all I could do was scream wildly.

Suddenly, a tentative knock answered my cries for help. “Supreme Mother?” a hesitant voice called out. The voice belonged to my Aunt Finn, so I screamed some more in acknowledgment; this time, I chose a higher pitch to assert my urgency.

Suddenly I heard the sound of a doorknob being turned, and the rush of new air entered the room. “Mother Supreme?” Finn called out again, and then she gasped.

Then I heard my mother call out from the hall; her voice seemed to be on the edge of hysteria. “Finn, what’s going on, Finn?”

“It’s the Grand Supreme,” Finn said in a tone of stunned disbelief, “It seems as if she fainted….” Finn uttering the last words seemed to cause her to snap out of her confusion. “Aurora,” she cried, “Aurora, I need you, it’s the Mother Supreme.”

I heard the clatter of footsteps in the hall and then my mother’s voice. “Finn, what has happened?” when Finn didn’t immediately respond, my mother cried out again. “Bring him to me….I want him. I want Bishop,” in more desperate tones; she pleaded, “Bring my son to me, I want my son.”

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