3 Back to life

In Blake's consciousness the scene of his father's death, his mother's death, his sister's death, and finally his suicide played over and over again.

Once, twice, three times, five times, ten times.

It wouldn't stop, as he screamed for it to stop.

For Blake, who could not forget anything he saw because of his perfect memory, life was a hell he could not bear.

He sought refuge in death, like a coward, but now he realized that that decision was also the wrong one.

Now he felt with his flesh that god would not let him forget, and that this would be his eternal punishment.

"Aaahh."

"Aaaaaaaahhh."

"Aaaaahh."

Amid his suffering, he heard what sounded like the cry of a child, and looking for a way out of his miserable existence, he went to that place trying to escape.

"Aaaaah."

"Aaaaahhhhh."

The closer he got, the cry grew louder, until he was swallowed by a bluish light.

(What is this place?)

When Blake regained consciousness, the first thing he saw was a hut lit by a small fire.

"Aaaaah."

Beside him, the cry that had led him here came in the form of a very young baby.

(Brought me? But brought me from where?)

Blake did not understand what was happening, stunned, he continued to contemplate his surroundings.

The hut was made of wood, branches, and skins, the floor was just dirt-covered with leaves and dry branches.

Blake noticed pieces of metal in one corner of the hut.

He saw two helmets, which he would describe as Viking helmets, lying to one side.

Wineskin the likes of which he had only seen in movies, where they drank water or wine among other things.

The hut was like the temporary dwelling of a Celtic warrior, a Viking, or a savage.

"Aaaaah."

Blake finally focused his attention on his side to see a baby crying loudly.

He was so young that his teeth were not visible in his mouth, but on his head, a mane of red hair was present, he was covered in white fur, perhaps a wolf, bear, or some such animal.

Blake was puzzled about his situation.

Why was he here?

How did he get to this place?

Blake looked at his hands.

They were as small as those of the baby next to him.

Did that mean he was a baby too?

But then what did it mean?

Had he been reborn perhaps, or was this just a particularly realistic dream?

Blake tried to remember how he had gotten here, to no avail.

"BANG!"

He was startled at what he remembered.

He, standing on a bridge, and he a gunshot to his head.

In other words, he had died.

But why had he died?

Try as he might, he couldn't remember why, he lived happily with his family, How did his death come about?

He, who had a perfect memory that allowed him to remember practically all his life since he was conscious, could not remember what had happened, something that puzzled him.

A cold breeze coming through the dimples and the gap in the hut's roof distracted him from his thoughts.

"Aaaahh."

Blake again heard the baby cry.

He didn't know what had happened, but now he was in this old dilapidated shack with a baby crying beside him.

If he really had been reborn, and somehow remembered his old life, this baby beside him should be his brother.

A baby's body is very delicate, his head is much larger than his body so Blake thought he would not be able to move.

To his surprise, when he tried, he was able to do it with great ease.

He managed to sit up, keep his balance, and look to his sides as much as he wanted to.

Blake could feel that his body was not ready for these movements, but he also felt that something inside him, besides his muscles and bones, allowed him to move smoothly.

"Aaaaah."

The baby was still crying, something that made Blake uncomfortable, There was no one taking care of them, and they were too young to be left alone, they must have been days old.

Blake looked for something that looked useful, and after a while, he checked the Wineskin that had some liquid inside.

Blake uncorked it, taking a sip to happily note that it was fresh milk, only it had an oily consistency, like natural milk.

He quickly dragged the Wineskin over to the baby to give it to him to drink, but as he was about to do so, he thought a bit about whether he might get sick from drinking the milk in this state.

He doubted that in this primitive place, they made the right preparations for milk, much less for a baby to drink it.

He looked around again and his gaze stopped on the Viking helmets that appeared to be made of bronze.

He quickly went to the Viking helmet and dragged it over to the campfire.

Blake was very surprised by his strength, both the Wineskin and the bronze helmet were very heavy things and yet he could move them, This should not be possible in any way, even for him to walk was something that should be impossible as well.

With every step he took, Blake noticed how his body had no center of balance, but still managed to stay upright, for some strange reason.

Blake decided to drag these thoughts out as he went about the task he had set himself, which was, to boil the milk in the helmet and give it to his crying brother.

Blake placed the bronze helmet over the coals and made sure it did not move, before pouring some milk, very little, into it.

He wasn't looking to boil the milk directly, he had done this to try and clean the Viking helmet, as if it had been used it should have different dirt on it.

Blake noted with even more amazement that, although the helmet had become hot, it seemed not to burn his hands when he touched it.

He had used an old ragged skin to hold the helmet, but perhaps because of the clumsiness of his new body, he accidentally touched the red-hot helmet.

No, he could not feel the heat of the flames, although he was quite close to the fire as well.

As an experiment, Blake slowly placed his hand on the fire, confirming that it seemed that the fire did not harm him.

At first, he thought he was possibly suffering from some disease that prevented him from feeling pain, but quickly dismissed it as his skin did not redden or seem to suffer any damage. Strangely pale skin...

It seemed he really was immune to fire.

Was he the child of some god or something?

How was it possible that he had so much strength and was immune to fire?

If he really had been reborn, that then confirmed that there was something after death and that perhaps god was also real.

So, was he perhaps the son of a god or something?

"AAAaaaahhhh."

A cry of annoyance from his brother told him to stop thinking nonsense, so he finished what he was doing and waited for the milk to cool enough to give to his brother.

He noticed that, unlike him, his brother was just like any other baby.

Quite possibly he had not been reincarnated like him, nor did he have his strange strength.

He gave him the milk very carefully after it had cooled enough, and he was afraid that this might make them sick somehow, but he had also waited a long time for someone, perhaps hours, and no one came, so he had no choice but to feed him as best he could.

Blake also noticed that his brother stank, so he looked for something to clean him up, but the hut had nothing like paper, so he had no choice but to use a piece of gray skin from some small animal and clean him up.

He realized that his brother was a girl, a little sister.

He thought about whether he should also eat, but he didn't feel hungry, and he didn't know when someone would come to take care of them, so he decided to wait for his body to ask for food and save what little milk they had left. With his strange constitution, perhaps his body could endure longer without food than her little sister.

He waited for a few more hours, going through everything in the hut, only finding pieces of skins, some arrows, pieces of armor, and an old bronze knife full of nicks and blood stains.

Blake peered out from the entrance of the hut, seeing nothing around.

He was on a hill, there was snow, and a river of water as clear as possible was running in the distance.

Blake discovered where the milk came from, 3 goats with a big white coat were tied to a tree near the hut.

This meant that, yes someone was looking after him and his sister, and that sooner or later they would come back.

Blake felt somewhat relieved.

No matter how strong his new body was, he was still just a baby, he would not survive on his own in the tundra.

A couple of hours later, his sister cried again from hunger.

Blake, now prepared, boiled milk again and carefully fed it to her.

As he did so, a sudden movement from the entrance of the hut made him turn his head to see a tall, burly man standing in front of them.

Blake dropped his helmet with milk in surprise and looked at the newcomer as he held his sister in his arms.

Both child and adult looked at each other without blinking.

Blake noticed that the huge man held a huge black axe in his hand, and his heart skipped a beat.

Maybe this wasn't his father, but some savage who came into his hut looking for luck, and found him and his sister.

Blake held his sister tighter trying to protect her from the man, as there was nowhere to run.

The man, watching his action, finally looked away and threw the axe aside to Blake's relief.

When he removed the helmet from his head and saw the red hair, just like his sister's, Blake confirmed that this man was possibly his father.

The man sat down, cutting off the rabbit's head and tying its legs to a rope causing it to bleed out.

He placed a wooden bowl to catch the animal's blood, skinned the head, and put it in his mouth, still raw, eating it.

Blake's stomach turned over watching the man eat the raw meat.

He was as he thought, a savage, and though he waited, he didn't see his mother anywhere.

Does that mean that whoever was taking care of them was only this wild man?

There were no words inside the hut for a long time.

The man was carving what looked like arrows without paying the slightest attention to them.

Many thoughts went through Blake's mind, but he didn't know what to do.

Was this his father?

Where was his mother?

Perhaps she was dead?

What should he do now with this savage?

Would he at least know how to talk?

Should she try to talk to him?

After a while, his sister cried again.

Blake was afraid that his sister's crying would upset the savage in front of them, who might be their father, so he tried to rock her, play with her, and distract her in various ways.

As he did not stop, Blake, slowly, under the scrupulous gaze of the savage, took the Wineskin with the last bit of milk and boiled it to give it to his sister.

He was afraid of upsetting the man by drinking his milk, but there was no trace of his mother anywhere.

After drinking, his sister calmed down, and Blake laid her down on a hide he found earlier in the hut, tapping her back to burp her, very gently, until she fell asleep.

Blake sat there, watching the savage, watchful.

In his last life he had a sister too, only that time she was older than him, now in this life he had a sister too, only he was the older one.

After a while, the man stood up taking Blake's attention, he approached them making his heart pound, but he stopped a step away and just took the empty Wineskin, and left the hut.

A while later, Blake saw the man come in again and toss the Wineskin to his side as he said a word to him.

Blake didn't understand what the word meant, but he understood what he meant.

Eat.

With this, Blake confirmed that this man was their father, and despite being a savage, he was also the one who took care of them.