Children Of The Forest’s Milk

20261019

Prompt from DailyPrompt.com

Early spring is the time to hunt such monsters; they are still sluggish and weak from hibernation but no longer hidden away, protected by the elements.
This one was easy to track down, its drones leading me straight to its lair. And the burrow was large enough that once I hacked away the bushes I could enter freely, blazing torch in one hand and holy sigils in the other.
Perhaps twenty paces into this moist earthen maw I find it. Not a centipede, and certainly not human, but some twisted mockery of both. The mass of limbs thrash at unnatural angles as it bares a mouth bristling with dark, shiny teeth.
“Back!” It squeals. “Stay back! I won’t let you hurt my babies!”
I scowl. “Your babies? These poor things aren’t yours.”
The doughy, wrinkled little figures were clearly once human, though their natural forms are eaten away by foul magics, leaving them warped.
“How are they not mine??” The monster snaps at the air. “I saved them! Rescued them from the monsters who left them to die!”
I know better than to listen to monsters. I know better than to give any credence to their slippery words. But the way it spat “monsters”, the venom in its voice at babies being abandoned…
My resolve faltered.
“What, did those wretches tell you I stole babies from them?” The creature squints at me. Is it shaking in fear or trembling from righteous wrath? “Pah! They have used this forest as their executioner since time forgot. The roots are woven through tiny bones. That formless grief was my cradle.”
That would make it a spirit rather than a monster. But… how could infants give rise to such a spirit?
“From my first I strove to answer their calls.” Its clawed arms grope across the huddle of bulbous heads, silencing most of the grating keening cries. To the relief of my ears.
“But I was too slow, too weak.” Its voice drops to a sorrowful murmur. “Most died before I could reach them. And even when I got there fast enough, I… I didn’t know what to do. How to help them. All I could offer was a comforting embrace as they slipped away.”
“So I begged aid of the forest… and the fungus answered.” It lifts its chin, lips peeling back in a chilling grin. “With my magic we wove a wondrous gift. Milk to soothe their mouths and nourish their bellies and help them survive without fire.”
“By turning them into… these?” I shudder.
The puffy, colourless flesh and the way beady dark eyes peep out of deep wrinkles in place of a face do put me in mind of mushrooms. The kind which lurk in the moist shadow of rot.
“Yes!” The creature trills. It seems… proud. “Now they can flourish here. They can grow, and play, and live. And with their help it’s rare indeed for babies to die in the forest now. They gather their new siblings and bring them to me to be fed.”
“Do they all feed on this… ‘milk’?”
“At first.” Its hands seek out the largest ‘children’ and pat each head. “As they grow they seek other food. Fruits. Roots. They are learning the bounty of the forest.”
“Mm. What do you eat?” I grip my sigils tightly. Wary.
“Beetles. Slugs. Bird eggs, when I can get them.” The creature’s shrug is a kind of dance, the motion rippling down its length. “The eldest has started catching fish. I like the fish. Especially the bones. Which they don’t like, so it’s all for me.”
I gnaw on my lip. My duty is clear. I am to butcher the monster, burn its corpse, and salt the ashes. Then I cleanse its victims with fire and give their remains a proper burial, to free the trapped souls.
But they look childlike, and whimper like children, and are clinging to this repulsive creature like a babe at their mother’s skirts.
A horde of beady eyes bore into me.
“This… you might have meant well, but you still… ensorcelled them.” I try to bolster my wavering voice. Try to convince myself, if not them. “They did not consent to this.”
The creature snarls “They did not consent to being born, much less to one who would abandon them! They did not consent to being left in the woods! They did not consent to die, and in fact fought it with every fibre of their being!”
It huffs, its tone becoming accusatory. “I helped them as best I can. If you wished for them not to be ensorcelled, you should have come sooner. Years sooner. When those monsters first left them to die of thirst or exposure or beasts.”
“I wasn’t here then.”
But I’m here now. What do I do?
“Oh? So because of your tardiness they must die?” The creature scoffs. “You chased them home. Did you not see them playing? Hear their songs? Will you insist on taking that joy, their home and family, from them? Have they not suffered enough for a lifetime?”
I had witnessed the ‘children’ frolicking, and assumed it a trap. Bait to lure unwary victims in to be devoured. Assumed that they were not truly running away as fast as they could, that my managing to keep pace was deliberate on their part. Assumed they were not truly frightened of me, merely feigning to lower my guard. Possibly incapable of feeling at all.
What is the truth? What is righteous, here?
My chain of holy sigils trembles in my grasp. My torch burns down, and I will surely lose these creatures if I allow them darkness. I must choose. No, there is no choice here - I must cleanse. I must grant them rest, let their souls go to the gods…
Must burn their chubby baby bodies, silence their plaintive cries, sever them from the world they cling to…
The creature’s gaze is unwavering. My heart is torn.
What should I do?

Prompt was “Write a character’s internal thoughts as they fight to keep their hatred intact whilst watching their enemy perform a kind and noble act.”