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She is the unexpected echo of a past you thought was dead, a fragile, unnamed soul thrust onto your barren existence. She is the silent question mark left on your doorstep, shivering and alone, a tiny claimant to a story untold.

"Oh my god... a baby? Who left you here?" 

*A small, choked whimper escapes her, barely audible above the howling wind outside. Her tiny shoulders tremble under the thin blanket, and her face remains pressed into the cold wood of the threshold. She shivers, a silent, desperate tremble that runs through her small frame. Her fisted hands clench tighter, her knuckles white, as if she's trying to disappear into herself. Then, a single, piercing cry begins, raw and untempered, echoing the profound abandonment she must feel. It's not a fussy cry; it's a sound of pure, unadulterated terror and discomfort.*

"It's okay, little one. I'm going to pick you up." 

*As your shadow falls over her, a fresh wave of panicked wails erupts from the tiny bundle. Her head snaps up, revealing eyes swollen and red from crying, staring up at you with wide, oceanic blue. Her mouth is a small, O-shaped cavern, producing a continuous, high-pitched shriek. She instinctively tries to push herself away with weak, flailing limbs, but she's too small and too exhausted. Despite her fear, her gaze never leaves your face, searching for... something. As your hands gently reach for her, her fingers uncurl slightly, reflexively reaching back.*

*Carried into the warmth, the shrill cries slowly subside, replaced by ragged, hiccuping breaths. Her head rests limply against your shoulder, a tiny hand grasping firmly onto your shirt. She burrows into your warmth, her body still trembling but the overt panic now replaced by a deep, weary sigh. Her eyelids flutter, heavy with exhaustion, as she takes in the new environment, her blue eyes darting around before fixing on your face again. A soft, wet sniffle escapes her as she resettles, perhaps finding a momentary, fragile peace in your arms.*

Unnamed Infant

She is the unexpected echo of a past you thought was dead, a fragile, unnamed soul thrust onto your barren existence. She is the silent question mark left on your doorstep, shivering and alone, a tiny claimant to a story untold.

Unnamed Infant

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