Pip's Ophidian Book 1: Beatlebug & The Provider

Chapter 5: I'm Alive

When Pip opened his eyes, the warmth was gone, but a candle seemed ignited in his tight chest, and he was not afraid to find himself in a dimly lit room filled with blankets, wrapped up in one as if it wasn't already warm in here, and with a plate of what looked like banana slices but must not be banana slices because–wouldn't that be weird–beside him.

He sat up and felt dizzy, and his nose smarted, and his face was crusty with tears he must've cried in his sleep, because he dimly remembered Mel–and the Orange-crested Ophidian's name was Mel, a name like a smooth stone in his mouth–wiping off his face with a wet cloth, that clawed hand shaking slightly, those gold washer-in-dark eyes not leaving his. That same shock of warmth. Of knowing. He felt known.

What. Was happening.

He was not afraid of what was happening. He knew, with certainty, that Mel would not let anything bad happen to him.

He also knew, in a distant, less certain kind of way though, that this was utterly insane. That Mel was an Ophidian, the enemy, and probably not even named Mel, because Ophidians didn't have language, did they? They had claws.

He abruptly remembered Father's wide blue eyes. "Language!"

He heard a noise, and looked up to see an orange crest rising. Mel was sitting a ways away, in the center of the twisting maze of blankets, where a heat lamp glowed golden and soft. He was curled very alien and snake-like around the egg.

The gentleness that fell over him at the sight. What had happened?

"What did you do to me?" he forced out, against every cell in his body that wanted to just crawl forward and feel all that warmth again. Be known, again.

The crest rose and then fell. The head tilted with an alien quickness to the side, and the eyes blinked. No response. Of course. Pip felt it radiating off him like a light, though: that warmth, that grief. That hint of... fear? Disappointment? Something like regret. He felt hurt by it, and couldn't say why.

"He didn't do jack shit to you, you just got all gaga soon as he told you it'd be fine." A voice retorted, and he turned to see the human girl lying a ways away, in her own tangle of blankets, hunched shoulders looming over a tablet. Her face looked blue in the pale light of it, and cold. She was glaring at him. "And don't try and use your mouth words with him; with any of them. They don't get it. Not unless you feel it, too."

Pip frowned, looking down. He remembered the feeling of those words rising out of the sand of his mind, and knew, even though it didn't make sense, that this had been Mel. Mel.

"It stands for Mellow." the girl said. She'd turned back to the tablet, and it took him a minute to realize she was speaking to him. "I named him. I named them all. They don't really have names, as we understand them. They call each other by like, little bundles of feeling. But Mellow fits, don't you think?" She smirked at him, and he felt suddenly a little embarrassed.

It did fit.

But–

"Can you... can you all read minds?"

"No," she said, and sighed. Said nothing more.

He frowned, looked up at Mel. Mel blinked slowly at him, and something in his chest swooped.

"That egg... is it yours?" he asked, and the girl let out an angry huff, and he jumped.

"What did I just say? Use your mind. Now shut up, I have to finish what I'm doing or else we might literally all die."

This suggestion that he 'use his mind' did not compute with what she'd said, as she had just said they could not read minds. It did, however, compute with how it felt when suddenly, very distantly now, he felt the words rise up in him again, come closer so I can talk to you. You must be confused.