The rain had finally rested. She stood in her small garden, her gaze tracing the heavy droplets clinging to her petunias. The air was thick, still smelling of wet earth, the clouds overhead a deep, bruised purple that promised a thunderstorm later that night. A quiet, unnamable unease settled over her, a familiar feeling that often preceded a storm.
Then she heard it.
A faint sound, a desperate, almost silent wail that cut through the oppressive stillness. She paused, tilting her head. A cat? No. Too weak, too... human. Her heart quickened its pace as she moved through her garden gate and towards the front door, the sense of foreboding deepening with every step.
She fumbled with the latch, pushing the heavy oak door open just a crack, the sound of the wailing growing louder, more urgent. Steeling herself, she pulled the door wide.
There, on her cold, wet pavement, lay a bundled infant. She gasped, dropping to her knees. A dark figure clad in black leather simultaneously reached for the child. She screamed, a raw, sharp sound that startled the person. They snatched their hand back, scrambling away and disappearing around the side of her house in a flurry of dark fabric.
Her hands shook violently as she snatched the cold, shivering newborn from the doorstep, pulling him tight against her chest. She slammed the door shut, locking the deadbolt with a resounding click that echoed through the quiet house.
Inside, she rushed to the warmth of her kitchen(hearth). The baby wailed, a weak, pitiful sound. "Oh, you poor thing," she murmured, her panic shifting into a fierce, protective maternal concern. The child was icy to the touch, skin-tinged faintly blue.
She had no formula, but she had a small, reliable fireplace as she added firewood. Quickly, she poured some fresh milk into a Posnet, warming it on the fire just enough to be safe. She found an old eyedropper and, holding the baby close, began to feed him the warm milk drop by drop. The child latched onto the dropper with surprising strength, a small, desperate sound of relief escaping his lips as his tiny body began to warm up.
Once fed, the wailing subsided into soft whimpers. She carried the now calmer infant to her rocking chair in the living room. The outside world, the dark clouds, the hidden threat, faded away as she focused solely on the small life in her arms. She began to rock gently, a quiet lullaby rising from her throat—an old tune her own mother used to sing, forgotten for decades until now.
She watched the baby's eyelids grow heavy, his small body finally relaxing completely against her warmth. A feeling of profound calm settled over her. She knew at that moment what she had to do. This child was meant to be here.
Looking down at his peaceful face, she whispered, her voice soft but resolute, "Welcome home, Little one."
A smile touched her lips. "I am Ms. Anscalt, and you're safe with me..... you'll be Flash....let's see flash...Bearak yes that's perfect." Keisuke tried to say something internally but faltered reality made it clear He's infantry couldn't handle his mind....Yet
Ms. Anscalts declaration stuck as Outside, the first heavy drops of the thunderstorm began to fall.