Little One

Little One

            I pushed the door open, with a small creak.

            Cautiously, I poked my head into the room. The small form turned, let out a small moan as he rolled towards me. I ducked back out and then slowly peered back in. He slept on, dreaming his own dreams. A small smile made its way across my face as I slowly walked in, my feet not making a sound.

            In a voiceless whisper, I murmured, "Hello, Buddi."

            I traced my fingers across his cheeks. They were so soft. Gradually, my fingertips slid their way up, to his eyes. They were closed, eyelashes long and dark.

            I smiled, faintly.

            He still slept as he had when he was five. His sheets were twisted, wrapped around his legs and the quilt had fallen onto the floor. His mouth was half open, giving an innocent aura to him. I shook my head, but not without a small chuckle.

            Gently, I pried his legs from the sheets, straightened them and covered him back up.  Snatching the quilt from the floor, I added that and tucked his dangling arms back under the sheets. That accomplished, I sat down by him, his mattress lowering a tad under my weight. He made no note.

            I wasn't surprised, honestly. I told Buddi a lot that a war could occur in the next room and he would probably sleep through it. He was the heaviest sleeper. I was the lightest. If you were to drop a pin in my room, I would wake up. But with Buddi, you could break his door down, have a fencing match and train with real weapons and screams and he still wouldn't wake up. He'd always been that way. Once Buddi fell asleep, he was out until I came and woke him up. That was always a challenge. Not because it was hard to do but because I hated to do it. He always slept so peacefully; I hated to end it.

            He groaned them, mumbled something incomprehensive and turned over again. I watched him, his young innocence more than visible. He flung his arm across the bed and hit my thigh. But as always, he didn't wake up.  The boy slept so soundly that had I not known better I'd have thought he'd gotten into our berry wine.

He was so tiny. He'd always been tiny to me and I knew I would always look big to him. Unconsciously, I slipped my hands under his back and neck and lifted him into my arms. He stirred a bit but didn't wake up. I pulled him close and cradled him tightly, held him as I had nearly thirteen years ago.  He laid his head against my chest, breathing light and normally.

I just watched.

            Sunni had often told me that she loved Buddi almost like a brother. She had said she understood how I felt about him. I had denied it of course, saying he was a cub and it was my job to point him in the right direction. The others did not understand enough. But she said she knew I loved him. I had said, "well yes, in a way. As I love the others."

            I was lying.

            He's more important than anyone else in my life. And Sunni was lying too. She had no idea what he meant to me. She was his best friend. That's important, granted but she did not have any reckoning to how I felt. She didn't know what I knew.

            Did she know how it felt to enter the hut where he was born and have his mother ask you to raise him in her stead? Did she know how I'd felt when that small cub was placed into my arms? Did she know what I felt? To see those bright shining eyes stare back at you, bewildered at this new world? To see a child so small that he fit in the palms of both my hands? To have him grasp one of my fingers and see my thumb and pointer take up his own palm?

            Buddi let out a small yawn but quickly went back to sleep. I cradled him closer and slowly stood to walk to stand by the window. I'd never known how I would do at raising a cub. I had never worried about it as a little girl. I was a sterile Barbic.

            But when I'd first held this cub in my arms, something inside me, something sealed away was unlocked. I kept him in my room, in a makeshift crib that Gritty and Grubbi had thrown together. He'd wake up at night crying. It took me a while but I figured it out.

            A high pitched one caused one reaction inside me. I would rise, move to his side and check to see if he was wet. He generally was. He had that cry when he needed a diaper change. I wasn't repulsed as I thought I would have been. He cried like that about four times a night for the first few months, and then it dulled to about once or twice.

            Sometimes, he would whimper, and that would escalate to a small cry. I always knew that one too. It was from hunger pains so I would always get up and fetch him a fresh bottle. Granted, a mother's milk was best but his mother was dead so we gave him ramas milk. He would down a bottle in a few minutes and then barely be awake enough for me to burp him.  He woke me up five times a night. Strangely enough, I didn't mind. I thought I would have gotten cranky, edgy. But I didn't.

            I smiled at the cub then. He had his head against my chest and moved a bit, nuzzled into my torso. I wrapped my arms around him in answer. He stopped squirming and laid still.  I watched him, my mind still amazed. Such a small cub, an infant had grown so fast.

            In what seemed like days but was actually two years, he'd grown so he was an active little crawler. I told everyone entering my hut to watch where they stepped. He was constantly underfoot and easy to miss because although he'd grown he was still a very small Barbic, as his mother had been.  I still remember just sitting still in the corner, perhaps polishing my sword and just watching the little thing scamper around on all fours. He'd look at me with that wide smile and I could help but scoop him up and cuddle him.

            I guess that was I was doing that night. Granted, he was eleven years older but he still didn't pull away. I noted that the Glen cubs did that. Buddi didn't. I don't know why but quite frankly, I'm glad whatever the reason. He grows up too fast for me. Before I knew it he was walking.

            He always used to crawl to me when I came in from training. I would leave one of the others with him when I trained. That one day, gritty came to me, holding Buddi in his hands. He set him down and Buddi immediately ran to me. I was stunned and still am. Grubbi had told me that Gritty and I had stumbled through our first steps. But Buddi came flying to me.

            And those words…his first words…I looked down at Buddi. He was still asleep. I remember a much smaller cub, looking at me and then stammering, "'Sa. Mama 'Sa."

            He couldn't pronounce my whole name so he just shortened it 'Sa. To this day, when he's afraid, really afraid, he'll let those first two letters in my name drop and just call me 'Sa. And he always attaches the Mama when he's terrified.

            I know the others don't understand our relationship. Half the day, I'm yelling at him. But he deserves it. He knows how to train, but he doesn't. He has to try. Gum's sake, his muscles aren't going to develop on their own.  Playing his flute isn't going to help. But he always seems to make me soften up.

            Those bright eyes, shimmering, and then that lip would tremble…as he had as a small cub he can still win me over with that face.

            I looked down at Buddi once again. Tracing his cheeks with my fingertips, I still couldn't believe how big he got. He was so small, it seemed like yesterday I was changing his diapers and feeding him a bottle. It feels like a few hours ago that he was looking at me, coated in mud but offering me the first slice of the mud pie. Time does fly.

            I just hope that the bird that flies it gets a broken wing in these next few years. I want to treasure this child. I do. I cherish him, like the greatest gem. I'll never say it. But I think he knows.  I hope he does.

            I nearly laid him down but on second thought, moved out of the room, towards an abandoned room. Gritty and Grubbi had made some odds and ends and with nowhere to put them, stuffed them in this room.

            I walked through the darkened chamber and finally sat down. The window seat fell under my weight and the moonlight shimmered in, highlighting Buddi's face. I knelt my face down and inhaled his scent. It remained the same as it had when I had inhaled it after he was brought into this world. Pure rain smell, the scent of youth and innocence.

            I swayed a bit, almost a rocking motion. I had used it when he was younger, an infant. He still responded the same way; a small moan and then drawing closer to me. I smoothed his hair again, with a small smile. He nuzzled into my chest.          

            "Such a cute thing,"

            Buddi stirred in acknowledgement, breathing in my own scent. Grubbi told me that unlike humans, Gummies rely on smell, hearing, and touch more than sight. I knew Buddi's scent, I knew his touch and I knew his footsteps. The rate at which he breathed was as clear as any vision to me.  And judging by the way he could always tell when I was angry, by the way I'd walk up behind just to hear him say, "I'm guilty Ursa," before I could say a word, I guessed he had the same intuition about me as I did about him.

            I had never dreamed he would grow so swiftly. When I'd first taken him in, I had loved him from the first day and over the hours and years that love grew although I hid it. When he was a baby, I could not imagine him as a toddler. When he became a toddler I could not imagine him as a child. When he became a child, I could not imagine him as a teenager. Now he was a teenager and I could not imagine him as an adult.

            An adult…he was growing up, although lots of the time he still was a cub, a small child, playful. I didn't want to think about but I knew it was happening. He was becoming older everyday, growing everyday. I knew it had to happen and I knew I couldn't stop it.

            I hated it.

            I swallowed a lump in my throat. I only revealed emotion at times like this…. when I was alone. Or pretty much alone. I looked down at Buddi. My heart condensed and then relaxed.

            What was I worried about?

            To me when I looked at this child I saw everything:

            A baby; with bright eyes and a melting giggle, a toddler; with shaky knees and a winning smile, a child; with persuasive eyes and a cunning mind, and a teenager; with mature and immature eyes and the same childish innocence. Through the years, nothing had changed. He'd grown in body but Buddi was still my baby. He was still the cub who's diapers I'd changed and who woke me up five times a night. He was still that toddler than ran to me, with shaky steps. He was still the child that leapt in my arms when scared and howled for his Mama Ursa. And he was still that teenager that drove me mad with his ignorance for training but still remained close to me, afraid to let me go.

            The feeling's mutual.

            I don't care how big Buddi gets, I don't care how strong and I'd don't care how capable he is. He will forever be small to me. I'll always look out for him, whether he wants me to or not. He'll always be a child to me…always. My child, my baby.

            I smiled at him and kissed his forehead.

            "My little one."