The small, wooden house was warm and smelled of pine and dried herbs. It was a single, sturdy room, and as Oliver gently closed the door, the sounds of the dangerous forest faded, replaced by the crackle of a low fire.

  For a long moment, the two adults stared at the infant in Nora's arms, and then at each other, their expressions a perfect match of dazed panic.

  "Right," Oliver said, his deep voice suddenly uncertain. He ran a hand through his dark hair. "So... where do we put him?"

  "On the... on the bed?" Nora suggested, her voice squeaking. "I think? Oh, gods, Olly, what do we do with him? He's so... tiny."

  "He needs... food? Water?"

  "You can't give a baby water!" Nora almost shrieked. "Can you? I don't know! Alicia. We have to see Alicia. Right now."

  Vivian, bundled in Nora's arms, remained quiet, his mind racing. 'Seriously, Gabriel? You drop me with two people who look like they're about to faint? Great start. And first problem: food. I am completely, utterly helpless.'

  They burst back out the door and hurried through the small, muddy pathways of the village, heading toward a larger, well-kept hut that had smoke rising from its chimney. An older woman with sharp eyes and graying hair pulled back in a severe bun was standing in the doorway, hands on her hips.

  "Nora," the woman said, her voice dry as old parchment. "You're late. And you've brought a stray. You always were a soft-hearted child."

  "AlicIA, please, we..." Nora stammered. "We found him. In the woods. I... we don't know what to do."

  Alicia's grumpy expression softened for a fraction of a second as she looked at Vivian. "Well, you look like you've seen a ghost. What did you expect? Babies cry, they eat, and they make a mess. First problem: food. You can't feed him."

  The healer looked them over. "There's good news and bad news. Which do you want first?"

  Oliver, ever the pragmatist, stepped forward. "The good news, please."

  "The good news is, there's milk. Someone in the village has goats," Alicia said.

  Nora groaned, her shoulders slumping. "Oh, no. It's him, isn't it?"

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  "The bad news," Alicia finished, ignoring Nora's interruption, "is that the only goat's milk in this village belongs to Jonas."

  Nora and Oliver exchanged a look of pure dread. 'Oh, great,' Vivian thought. 'Village drama. And of course, we need milk from that guy.'

  Jonas's house was, by village standards, a mansion. It was the largest home, built with thick, smooth logs, and was the only one with a second-story loft. As they approached, they could hear laughter coming from inside.

  Oliver, who had faced down horned rabbits and worse, visibly steeled himself and knocked.

  The door was opened by a burly man with a thick beard and a proprietary air. His smile vanished the instant he saw Oliver.

  "What do you want, woodsman?" Jonas's voice was a low growl.

  "Jonas," Nora said, stepping forward. "We... we need your help."

  Before she could continue, a bright, happy voice called from inside. "Jonas, darling, who is it? Oh!" A smiling, rosy-cheeked woman came to the door, her hands resting on a swollen belly.

  Her eyes lit up when she saw Nora, then widened in surprise at the bundle in her arms.

  "Nora!" Elara beamed. "You didn't... you never told us! When did you have him?"

  Nora and Oliver froze. The question hung in the air, thick and awkward.

  "He's beautiful," Elara continued, leaning in. "What's his name?"

  "This... this is Vivian," Nora said softly, her face flushing. "But, Elara, he's... he's not ours. We... we found him. In the woods, just a little while ago."

  Elara's jaw dropped. "Found him? In the... Oh, you poor, poor little thing! Abandoned?"

  "We think so," Oliver said, his voice firm. "We're taking him in. But we have no way to feed him. We came to ask if we could buy some of your goat's milk."

  "Buy? Nonsense!" Jonas suddenly boomed, his good mood restored as he wrapped a proud arm around his wife's shoulders. His rivalry with Oliver was one thing, but village custom was another. "My son will be born into a strong village! We don't let children starve. Elara, get them a skin of milk. It's on the house!"

  While the adults navigated this complex social dance, Vivian was fighting a different, more desperate battle. He was cold, he was hungry, and his tiny, inefficient body was failing him.

  'Mind over matter,' Ali's consciousness repeated like a mantra. 'I am a grown man. I will not... I cannot...'

  A sudden, uncontrollable warmth spread through his silk wrappings. The ultimate, final humiliation.

  'Damn it.'

  The new, wet sensation made him cry out in frustration.

  Elara laughed kindly. "Oh, the poor thing! He's made a mess, hasn't he? Don't you worry, Nora, it happens a dozen times a day! Come in, come in. Let's get him cleaned up while Jonas gets the milk."

  Vivian's world dissolved into a nightmare of indignity. He, Ali, a man who had read countless books and over-analyzed every movie he'd ever seen, was being deftly unwrapped, washed, and powdered by two women who cooed at him.

  This was not a dream. This was not a joke. This was his new, undignified reality. He was, in fact, a baby.

  Forced to accept this horrible truth, his adult mind finally succumbed to the overwhelming exhaustion. Cursing Gabriel's name into the void, he fell asleep.

  When Vivian woke, he was in a small, hastily-made wooden box lined with soft fur, placed next to a warm fire. He could hear the low, comforting murmur of Nora and Oliver's voices.

  "...take the week off. I can finish the felling later," Oliver was saying. "He needs a proper crib. And a changing table. Alicia said they need changing tables."

  "Thank you, Olly," Nora's voice was soft with exhaustion and love. "I'll stay home, too. Just for a few days. We'll... we'll figure this out. Together."

  By the end of the week, Vivian's basic needs were fulfilled. Oliver, a surprisingly skilled craftsman, had built a small, sturdy crib and a table. Nora had learned the rhythms of feeding him the warm goat's milk. They were a family.

  That night, Vivian was jolted awake by... sounds. The rhythmic creak of the bed-frame, Nora's soft sighs, Oliver's low murmurs. Ali, the adult, knew exactly what those sounds were.

  'Well... they're certainly... enthusiastic,' his mind noted, feeling incredibly awkward. 'Good for them. But still... if they're this in love, why no children in two years of marriage? That's... strange.'

  He filed the thought away. It was a puzzle, and his nerdy brain couldn't stop from wanting to solve it.

  The next morning, Nora was packing a small bag with herbs. "I have to get back to the hut, Olly. Alicia is counting on me. I'll take Vivian with me."

  Vivian felt a jolt of anxiety. He was going to spend the day with the grumpy healer, Alicia. He remembered her sharp eyes and dry voice. But then, a new feeling surfaced, eclipsing the anxiety: curiosity.

  He was finally going to see the world outside this small wooden house.