Day 380 /Evening

The door creaks, and I blink awake. Mom's footsteps tap against the floor, and I feel the cool air in the room. She places something on the counter, and I catch a faint, familiar scent.

My stomach rumbles. I wiggle in her grasp, mumbling, "Hungy."

Mom's smile softens as she looks at me. "Hungry again, are we, Lilly?" she coos gently. She carries me to a plush chair and adjusts her dress. "Here you go, my little one," she whispers.

I latch on, her milk soothing my hunger. She hums a familiar lullaby, the melody filling the room. Nestled against her, I feel a contentment and belonging, cherishing this moment in my new life.

The door opens again, and I see Dad walk in, sweat on his skin. His eyes look tired but soften when they find us. "Charlotte," he says, his voice weary, "have you cooked the meat yet? We wouldn't want it to spoil."

Mom smiles gently. "Not yet, David. I'll get to it once Lilly is done feeding."

Dad's face softens, and he nods. Even though he's tired, there's contentment in his posture, a shared joy in this family moment.

Dad sighs and leans against the doorframe, hand in his hair. "We've had a pest problem in the fields," he says, frustration in his voice. "Had to kill a few, set up some deterrents. Hopefully, that'll protect the crops."

Mom's brow furrows. "That sounds tiresome, David. You must be exhausted."

He shrugs, half-smiling. "It's all part of the job. Can't let the pests have a feast on our hard work, can we?"

Despite his tired face, his eyes are determined. His dedication to providing for us is clear, so different from the neglect I once knew. It makes me feel warm, secure, and loved in this new family.

Dad's eyes light up. "On a brighter note," he says, pride in his voice, "I've prepared our clothes for the Cèilidh. Even made a basket for you to carry Lilly in."

Mom smiles. "You've been busy, haven't you?"

"That's not all," he adds, a hint of a smile on his face. "I've also finished working on the ornate chest, the one we're planning to offer to the nobles."

Mom's eyes sparkle. "David, that's wonderful. I knew you would do a great job."

Their excitement for the upcoming event fills the room with joy and camaraderie, a testament to the life they've built together – a life I'm grateful to be part of in this new existence.

After I finish feeding, Mom unlatches me and sets me down. She starts to prepare the meat on the counter, her hands moving skillfully.

Dad picks me up, his hold firmer than Mom's but still comforting. He hums a low, melodic tune, filling the quiet in our home. I look up at him, our eyes meeting, and see the warm yellow color and tender smile. Nestled in his hold and lulled by his humming, I feel content. This is family; this is love.

I wake up nestled in a woven basket, held close to Mom's chest. We're on our way to the village Cèilidh, and the lively sounds of music and laughter grow louder. Awake, I gaze up at Mom's excited eyes.

I feel safe and secure, gently rocked by her movements. This moment with my new family makes me feel treasured, protected, and loved - feelings unknown in my past life. As we approach the celebration, I look forward to experiencing our community's joyful traditions.

My young life is filled with warmth and contentment, and this new existence offers more than I could have ever dreamed.

"Oh, look who's awake!" Mom exclaims, her voice warm and sweet. "Just in time to join the festivities, my little Lilly. We're almost there."

She brushes her fingers over my cheek, and I nuzzle against her touch. "You slept through the whole walk here. But now those bright eyes are open, and I know you're eager to take in the sights and sounds."

I coo happily, comforted by her voice. She smiles back, her expression full of love. "Don't you worry, I'll make sure you get a good view of everything. This will be your first Cèilidh after all!"

As we get closer to the lively gathering, she holds me closer, keeping me warm and secure. I feel content and cared for, grateful for the bond I share with my doting mother.

My senses fill with lively sounds and inviting smells. Fiddles and pipes play cheerful folk songs, while laughter and voices rise above the music. I smell savory meats roasting and freshly baked bread. Children run around, laughing as they weave through the crowds. The air feels charged with joy and camaraderie.

Mom carries me through the gathering, pointing out sights and sounds. "Look Lilly, there's Maggie playing the fiddle – isn't she talented?" she comments, engaging me with each observation.

From the safety of her arms, I watch everything with curiosity. The people, music, and scents captivate my young senses. Mom's gentle guidance adds warmth to this special shared moment at my first village Cèilidh.

My parents find a spot on a wooden bench near the festivities, and a few villagers approach to greet them.

"David, Charlotte! So glad you could make it," exclaims Marie, her green eyes bright. She has jet black hair and a fair, heart-shaped face. Petite but warm and lively, she greets my father with a grin.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world. Good to see you, Marie."

Marie looks at me. "And this must be little Lilly! Oh, aren't you just precious." She pinches my cheek, and I squirm, unaccustomed to strangers' touch.

Mom laughs lightly. "Yes, this is her first Cèilidh. She's taking it all in with those big curious eyes." She rubs my back soothingly.

Marie smiles at me. "You'll get used to all the commotion soon enough, sweetheart."

I start fussing and squirming in Mom's arms, whimpering softly. My stomach rumbles, and I feel hungry.

Mom glances down, concerned. "What's the matter, my sweet?" She lifts me up, bringing me closer to her face.

Marie smiles at us. "Needing to feed again, little one?"

"Right on schedule," Mom replies, chuckling as she adjusts her dress to nurse me.

Marie nods. "They sure do eat often at this age. You're so patient with her, Charlotte."

Dad agrees. "When it's your own bairn, you don't mind. It's just part of the routine now."

As I suckle, Mom strokes my hair. "Yes, we cherish every moment with our Lilly, even the demanding ones."

Marie watches us tenderly. "You two are naturals. I help care for some of the wee ones in our village, but it's different being the parents."

Dad smiles. "It's a unique joy, that's for sure. We learn more each day."

Mom grins at me. "And this little lass teaches us so much too, without even trying."

Marie replies warmly. "Little Lilly is lucky to have you both as her ma and da."

After I finish nursing, Marie smiles at my parents. "If you'd like, I could look after Lilly for a bit so you two can enjoy the Cèilidh."

Mom looks at Dad. "What do you think, dear?"

"I don't see why not," he replies. "Marie's helped care for babes before, and we could use some time to ourselves."

Mom nods slowly. "Alright then, as long as you're comfortable with her, Marie?"

"Of course!" Marie says. "I'll keep a close eye on this little angel the whole time."

She gently takes me from Mom, and I squirm, not used to her arms.

Mom strokes my cheek. "There there, Lilly. We won't be far."

Marie rocks me and hums a cheerful tune as my parents leave. Gradually, I settle against her, watching the festivities. She points out instruments and dances, engaging me as she holds me close.

As music and laughter swirl around us, a firm, commanding voice cuts through the noise. "Marie," she says, "Give the child to me."

Marie's arms tighten around me, and she murmurs softly, "I can't."

The woman's voice hardens. "Marie, give me the child. Now."

Marie's eyes become distant, and she hands me over without another word. "Go," the woman commands, and Marie disappears into the crowd.

Cradled in the woman's arms, I take in her white hair and striking red eyes. Her pale face is beautiful, and her petite figure exudes a commanding aura. A unique, cool scent clings to her, hinting at unknown places.

Feeling secure in her arms, her red eyes never leave my face. She speaks softly, her voice a soothing melody. "Welcome to the world, little one."

She cradles me gently in her arms, leaning down so her long white hair brushes against my cheek. "My name is Ginny," she murmurs, her voice a tranquil harmony amidst the festive noise. Her ruby eyes twinkle, and a soft smile graces her pale lips as she continues, "I was there when you came into this world, little one."

She pauses, her gaze momentarily distant. "But, you see," she whispers, "no one else remembers me. I made sure of that. For reasons you'll understand when you're older, I erased their memories of my presence."

Her confession lingers in the air, a mystery unfolding before me, an infant in a world filled with magic and secrets. Her cool, crisp scent seems to carry the weight of her words, hinting at stories and experiences beyond my newfound reality.

Ginny's soft voice echoes in my ears, a gentle lullaby amidst the noise of the celebration. "I know you can't speak yet, little one," she says, her red eyes looking deep into mine. A soft chuckle escapes her, like rustling leaves carried by a cool breeze.

"But," she continues, her voice firm yet soothing, "you can understand me, can't you? I can see it in your eyes." She pauses, her gaze never wavering from mine. "If you understand me, and want to answer 'Yes', give me a little nod," she instructs, demonstrating by dipping her own head slightly. "And if your answer is 'No', just shake your head gently, like this," she adds, moving her head from side to side.

I lay there, nestled in her arms, feeling a sense of understanding. Even though I'm new to this world, in her presence, I feel a strange sense of familiarity, as if her words are guiding me and teaching me about the world I was born into.

Ginny's features soften, her gaze holding a curious twinkle. "Do you find this world interesting?" she asks, her voice barely louder than a whisper. I blink slowly, taking a moment to process her words. After what feels like an eternity, I give a small nod.

"Are you comfortable here?" she continues, her red eyes searching mine for an answer. My gaze shifts to the soft fabric of her dress where I lay, feeling comfort seep into me. I nod again.

"Do you like the music?" she questions, motioning towards the villagers engaged in a merry dance. The lively tunes have been a constant backdrop, and I find myself bobbing along to the rhythm. My tiny head bobs in affirmation once again.

"Are you scared of me?" her question floats in the air, a stark contrast to the earlier ones. I blink at her, taking in her kind eyes and gentle hold. Fear? No, that's one thing I don't feel. I shake my head slowly.

"And do you wish to go back to your parents?" Ginny asks, her voice a soft sigh. A pang of longing hits me at the mention of my parents. I miss their warmth. I nod vigorously, my eyes meeting hers with a silent plea.

Her lips curve into a soft smile, understanding reflecting in her eyes. "Very well, little one," she says, her voice carrying the promise of a reunion.

"But before I take you back to your parents," Ginny begins, her voice lowering to an intimate whisper, "there's something I must tell you." She pauses, a thoughtful look crossing her face. "I've been present at the births of many reincarnated souls like you. Yet, there's something... different about you." Her red eyes bore into mine, her words hanging in the air like a secret melody. "You feel more special. I can sense it."

Her gaze shifts from me, taking in the lively festivities around us. "I've been part of this world for an awfully long time," she continues, her voice tinged with a hint of melancholy. "And to be honest, I've grown quite bored. I've sought every form of entertainment, every form of diversion this world has to offer."

Then, her tone shifts, a menacing undercurrent creeping into her voice. She looks back at me, her red eyes glinting with an eerie light. "I do hope you'll entertain me in the future, little one," she says, her words a chilling promise in the midst of the warm celebration. The cool winter scent that surrounds her seems to grow colder, a silent testament to the gravity of her words.

Ginny's gaze softens as she looks down at me, her words floating in the air like a secret promise. "I'll be watching you, little one," she says, her voice hushed. "From a distance, you won't even know I'm there." Her words paint an invisible bond between us, a tether connecting our fates in this vast new world.

As dusk begins to paint the sky in hues of orange and pink, she adds, "Perhaps I'll stay a while longer." Her eyes seem to reflect the shifting colors of the setting sun, her voice carrying an air of anticipation. "Night is drawing near, and with it comes a spectacle. Something that will change your world, and I want you to witness it."

Her words hang in the air like a prophecy, a mysterious event looming in the horizon. I lay there in her arms, the promise of an unseen future unfurling before my innocent gaze.