So, I don't know what this is, or where it is going. I felt compelled to write after being overjoyed that there are readers that follow my writing. This is for you. This is an original work of which I do not have an outline for. That being said, I do not know how long it will be, or how often I will update it. I am at a loss for a better title. If you, reader, think of something better suited. Please allow me to consider it. And, I have no beta.

Trigger warning for violence, possibly non-consensual, implied, abuse, etc. If I missed anything that may possibly be triggering, please, please, please, let me know. I will try and keep triggers to a minimum, and will try and remember to make sure they are in place.

Italics are either an internal monologue or dialogue, or a flashback.

Artio is a bear goddess in Celtic mythology. She is the goddess of nature, fertility, bears and was worshiped in the region of Gaul.

A FOUND HOME

xoxoxo

Getting to Know All About You

Sparrow was awakened by the mournful sound of whimpering cascading down sharply into the warmer depths of her heart that rarely sees the light of day. She blinked herself to full consciousness, looking up into the flickering shadows cast by firelight that scrambled across the roof of the cave. Tori tugged unknowingly at the shift Sparrow wore, burying herself tight under Sparrow's chin and neck. You are safe, here. Sparrow brought a gentle hand down across the child's back, rubbing slow circles as she hummed a tune to ease a restless slumber. Because in spite of the girl's appearance, she was still only a child, suffering the fear that any child would at their parent or caretaker in distress. In relieving any possible anxiety, Sparrow also had to shove memories from the Time Before, and another child, she could not save, back into its box, her breath hitching if only for a moment. Taking a deep breath and settling her mind, her eyes drifted over to her other patient. That one she was uncertain, if the woman was closer to dead or closer to being alive. They were maybe five days in since the accident, and honestly, Sparrow had lost count of the days. Caring for her patient bordered on maddening, as every time she tried one remedy and healed a portion of the woman's body, she would seemingly slip farther from life. But in this moment, as she considered the two souls that had literally crashed into her life, the woman's life was currently in stasis, and Sparrow could accept that for now. The steady chest rise and fall of the child lying against her soothed her own worries, and she allowed herself to slip easily back to sleep.

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The girl shivers in her sleep, curled up as small as her small body allows. She is afraid because she is remembering back to her beginning, to when she began. She remembers that she was ready to begin, and she was excited to explore this new world, always listening, always to the soothing voice that cooed about her existence, and "I can't wait to meet you." The gentle hand that would rub across skin and elicit vibrations that would cascade down through the liquid that was her home, and she would hum in response. And occasionly she would stretch and answer, with a foot here, a hand there. But always safe, always loved, always warm.

And then her moment comes, and everything is bright and louder than she imagined, the warmth is gone, and she inhales a deep breath in her very small lungs. And a screeching wail is the sound of her protest with something not a voice but bigger, and there is an accompanying scream that is not hers, and she knows it is the voice of the one that cooed to her while she was growing inside. They are the hands that soothed and smoothed the skin and vibrated love through the warm fluid that are now shoving her away and suddenly there is a blanket wrapped around her, if only for a moment. The screams that once cooed never relent, but she has a blanket, and she quiets as she is warm again, and the screams of love denied fade away as she is thrown into a dark and damp space. That is how her life begins.

She doesn't know how long she lay there in the dark, barely able to breath, again, surrounded by so much water that is cold against her flesh. She knows she is just born, and now she is going to die, because that is the way things have always been. She remembers hearing things from the voices from before. But she can no longer think on the voices, and tells herself it is better to forget them, and this is an easy thing as her life seeps into the garbage that she has been cast into.

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Sparrow woke with a start, grasping at empty space as Tori was no longer in her lap, anxiety rising faster than comprehension. With her eyes adjusting to the dimming embers and a quick glance to her right, her heart rate decreased, her young charge having taken up a position at the foot of the bed of her other patient, cradled about a makeshift pillow. The gray of early morning light spread to fill the entrance, Sparrow using the moment of reflection to stretch her body gently from its awkward sleep, scrubbing at her face with both hands, pushing remnants of fatigue and sleep to the far corners of her consciousness. She laid a blanket over the child and watched her settle further into the new warmth that surrounded her. Sparrow stoked life back into the fire in the hearth, moving a kettle close enough to heat water for her work. She let out a deep breath, thinking there was no need to tackle the day on an empty stomach, as she sat at a table along the wall, farthest from her guests, thoughts unfocused but eyes watching the herky jerky dance of the flames. Her normal day to day disrupted, she found that she didn't mind the change too much. It presented a couple of extra challenges, but she was managing.

Sparrow ate quietly a bowl of breadfruit and dates, her thoughts lolling about from the present to the past, and back to the present. She chided herself silently, for again allowing herself to fall prey to the past and the memories that itched just below the skin.

Her breakfast consumed, she pushed away from the table and returned to the hearth. Soaking strips of cloth embedded with a mixture of moss and wild herbs, Sparrow set to changing the bandages that had soaked through in the overnight. The woman was worse than feverish, and her pallor bordered on death. Her face drawn, and cheeks sinking inward, Sparrow was unsure if she was ensnared in an unconscious grip of pain, or slipping into death, or both. Looking at the shelves where she kept the majority of her first aid supplies and remedies, she realized she was going to have to go out foraging. And she was already in need of restocking when they fell into her life. There was no way for her to trek into town and back within a single day, the girl will be awake by midday, Sparrow reasoned. Still, she should have close to a solid two hours to find at least half of the things she needed in the short term, and return, hopefully before things could become worse. Sparrow released a long breath as she finished her task, gathering up the soiled bandages to wash and reuse later.

Supplies in her satchel, and slinging her satchel over her head to rest on her shoulder, Sparrow brushed a soothing hand across the girl's forehead, humming gently and easing her into a deeper slumber. As she move up alongside the cot, her adult patient, furrowed brows and struggling with a fever, she brushed ragged strands of hair from her face. Sparrow held a slim finger just above the woman's skin, tracing the two long scars that marked her face. The scars coursed a little off center from the right of her forehead, down across her left eye and bridge of her nose. The lines stuttered over an otherwise unblemished cheek, fading to a stop just to the edge of her jaw. Sparrow unfolded her hand, palm down, placing it ever so slightly against the woman's face, any signs of unrest settling down to only a murmur.