Her head and joints still ached from the HSPD attack; her muscles were depleted of strength. She’d slept for days after prior episodes as her body slowly recovered. Obviously not an option at present. She’d have to stay awake. Seize whatever opportunity window presented itself.
But her eyelids did need a rest.
No harm in closing them for a couple minutes.
Mama sure as hell wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. The big belly rose and fell with a small boat’s rhythm.
Minnie turned her head sideways, one ear nestling into the abrasive hair. The sound of Mama’s breaths resonated below the thick skin. Each inhale produced a long, muffled shushing. Outside the burrow, there was only the serene rustle of epsequoia pads rubbing against their neighbors, and a wet trickling Minnie guessed was melting snow or ice flowing down the trunk.
She surprised herself with a little smile. Was this actually a nice moment?
The belly slowly rose and fell. “Shhhhhhhhhh…”
Minnie awoke to another forced nursing session. One of her arms had been wrapped awkwardly behind her back—unmovable in Mama’s firm grip. As soon as Minnie realized what was happening, she opened her mouth and latched onto the skin flap, appeasing Mama in hopes of it once more earning her slack.
Indeed, the Hynka sank into her bowl-shaped bed and let her arm rest away from her body. Minnie was once more completely unrestrained. Now in the opposite armpit, she had her feet planted on the ground, one hand on Mama’s arm and the other on the wooly chest. The milk flow had picked up and Minnie used her same trick, letting it escape out the corners and drip from her chin. But she was thirsty, probably severely dehydrated, especially after the episode. Surely the majority of this fluid was water…
Still breathing through her nose, she dared a small gulp. Her body instantly demanded another, but she wanted to wait—see if her stomach rejected it. The last thing she needed right now was to vomit out what little fluids she had. She watched a minute pass on the clock, noting the time, as well. Late afternoon. She’d slept more than five hours.
Her stomach was fine, pleading for more. Why wait? Another gulp. Mama’s approving hand began rubbing Minnie’s back. Despite herself, Minnie waited only ten seconds before cutting loose and guzzling the milk. She even forgot to avoid tasting it.
Hm… like rancid walnuts and spoiled goat cheese.
She gagged but persevered until her stomach seized and threatened revolt. Minnie halted and gasped for air. Mama stuck a finger behind Minnie’s head, pinched the wet flap of skin, and pressed the two back together. Minnie could see a lump moving in the skin curtain. Mama didn’t want Baby to miss out on the best part.
Oh no… already sick! How to get out of this?
She thought fast, reached up, and grabbed the skin with both hands, taking it away from Mama, who offered no resistance. If Baby was ready to handle her business on her own, so be it.
Minnie turned her head, blocking the view of the flap, and pinched it between her chin and neck, attempting to simulate the feeling of a mouth. An instant later, the revolting dessert spewed into her neck, and she tugged her shirt collar open to let it slide into hiding. She simulated a deep gulp and released the fold.
As per their new family tradition, Mama dragged Minnie up over her belly. This time, lying head below stomach didn’t sit well. Bile gurgled up; she fought it back. Tears streamed from her eyes and tickled down her nose. Maybe the milk was toxic after all. Maybe she shouldn’t fight it.
The choice was taken from her when Mama plopped her heavy hand onto Minnie’s back, squishing guts and sending an irrepressible surge up her throat. Minnie coughed and gagged and milk spilled down Mama’s side.
Mama wasn’t happy.
She pushed off her insolent child, Minnie landing on the burrow floor, where she continued retching. There was no stopping it at this point. Her stomach seemed intent on a full evac. Mama rolled upright, scooped both hands under Minnie’s knees—along with layers of now-tainted nest floor—and hurled the load outside.
Minnie landed first on face and shoulder before her feet hurdled overhead—back twisting—and her whole body crashed down facing up, knocking the wind from her. She lay there a beat, catching her breath and offering her gut a chance to orient itself before it decided whether to pick up where it left off.
What was Mama doing? Was she coming? Was this Minnie’s chance to escape? Had she been disowned for her disobedience?
A good, solid breath filled her lungs and her stomach felt relatively still. She tilted her chin up to observe the burrow entrance, but a dark shroud consumed her entire head and dragged her away.
She found herself back in the burrow, face smothered in the fold between Mama’s seated belly and leg. Minnie’s arms scrabbled and groped and she pulled her knees in to try and push herself free. She couldn’t tell what Mama was doing up there, but every little movement compressed Minnie’s skull to a terrifying degree. Finally, Mama stopped moving and Minnie stopped fighting. Though her nose was squished and pinched shut, the Hynka’s skin crease formed a little channel in front of Minnie’s mouth, and she was finally able to inhale another full breath. Though she’d be held fast until Mama decided otherwise.
A hard poke at her ankle bone. Surely a claw tip. It slid up her bare leg, tugging the shorts upward a little before the claw rose away. What next? Not knowing was even more maddening. A pinch of her thigh—two claws, one in front, one in back. Her environment shirt and tank brushed up, exposing her waist and back. Hot breath sniffed her skin. Prodding at her waist.
Her air channel thinned to nothing and Minnie held the half-lungful of air.
Now the head—a painful pair of mallet taps on the side of her skull. Swirls around her scalp. The claw lifted away. Tugging at a few locks of hair. A sudden jerk and thin clumps were torn from her head. Minnie moaned and whimpered her final exhale into the wall of flesh.
But Mama leaned back a little, and Minnie caught a rush of cool air, her head finally freed from its confines.
She had to do something. Take control of her own fate.
She accessed Ish’s language DB and dropped it into Livetrans. The input prompt flashed ready. What to say? Stop it? That was dumb. She needed to make an instant impact. Scare her, if possible. Back in the catalogue Minnie searched for Hynka lore and superstition.
Come on… who’s your personal boogeyman?
Mama flapped Minnie’s ear.
Hwahxo: Universal; Death. (specific to Greaters, see Sssuhke: Lesser Death)
Shroosh: Southwestern goddess; a shapeshifter; source of seasonal flooding. Metaphoric: “Come/go/went… like Shroosh” (quickly and with irresistible force, as in an invasion)
Sssuhke: Universal; Death (specific to Lessers, see Hwahxo: Greater Death), a blessing on a clan, surges through Greaters, empowering, frees Lessers for rebirth.
A quick glance at Ish’s goddess of choice and it was back to the drawing board. No mythology.
She wished she’d spent a bit more time nosing into Ish’s research back on the station. Now, especially, with Mama endeavoring to pinch Minnie’s ear between thumb and finger claws too dull to succeed. She gave up, instead hunching over to sniff it. Gusts of breath sent static into Minnie’s ear canal and she cocked her head out of the line of fire.
Mama whispered, “Ohswe.”
LIVETRANS: No move.
Oh, hey there, Livetrans!
Minnie kept her head still, as requested, but rolled her eyes left, spotting Mama’s snout—close and moving closer, mouth opening. A drip of hot saliva.
A pair of lengthy incisors scooped slowly behind Minnie’s ear, and then the mouth began shutting, the opposite row of teeth pressing into the ridges and caves inside the ear, clamping down, pressing tighter, pinching.
Minnie shut her eyes and held her breath. This was it. The beginning of the end. Just when she thought the first tooth would pierce flesh and spill blood—the bite stopped. Minnie exhaled. Mama rested a hand on Minnie’s shoulder and began slowly sitting up, half a dozen teeth still firmly rooted in the ear. She wasn’t letting go.
A ring of burning flesh.
Panic struck, and Minnie moved her head up with it as far as she could, but at the end of her reach the skin began pulling once again—unrelenting.
Searing, unbearable pain at the sudden pop of the first tear, behind the ear, and the rest of the ring quickly followed, ripping away effortlessly as Minnie screamed.