I Woke Up As A Toddler?

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The woman was dead, that much was obvious.

It had been for the last however many hours Bethany had sat by the river, too short arms wrapped around herself to keep the cold at bay. At first, she'd thought she was dreaming, adult mind trapped in a child's body, tucked into an adult's embrace. As time went on, however, it quickly became clear that the chest she snuggled against in a vain search for fading warmth had no heartbeat and the arms which held her fast were stiff, unbending prison bars. That panicked realization had her scrambling for freedom, but the limitations of this new, infantile body had her slipping down the muddy riverbank and into the, thankfully, languid water. By the time she made it up to dry ground both her hair and clothing were soaked through.

The woman was beautiful. This, too, was obvious.

Her hair was long and wavy, brown tendrils floating in the water like Millais' Ophelia. Dark eyes stared unblinking at a fixed point down river, full lashes clumped together in the wet. High cheekbones and straight, dark brows reminded Bethany of the Korean beauty vloggers her little sister tried so hard to emulate. Pale freckles sprawled across a small nose and tall forehead, adding character to an otherwise porcelain face. Her full lips were parted, black blood caked at the corners where the river had yet to reach. Intricate tattoos snaked their way around her wrists in thick, black bands, writing Bethany couldn't understand twisting in delicate swirls up to her elbow where the blue fabric of what looked like a Japanese kimono covered her body, red edged tears confirming a violent end.

Those tattoos were on Bethany's hands, too.

So strange, to see ink on a child's body. Let alone a child's body with her in it. Her fingers were so small, so chubby, and so, so cold.

The sun was much lower now than it had been when she'd first made her mad dash for the riverbank, and she was starting to feel the effects. Little bodies got colder faster, but she didn't want to leave the woman behind. It was entirely likely that she was the child's mother, and Bethany was oddly hesitant to separate them. There was also the added fear of what dangers a child might face within a forest.

Heck, even in her own body Bethany wouldn't want to go in there.

Maybe it was her new height, but it looked so big to her, the shadows between trees yawning maws waiting to swallow her up. What little camping knowledge she had would likely prove useless in her little body, but just waiting around to be rescued wasn't exactly a solid plan, either. The woman, whom she had started to accept was her mother, had clearly been murdered. There were still knives sticking out of her back. If her killer were still chasing them, staying put was the worst possible decision.

Bethany rubbed her hands together roughly, partly from nerves and partly for warmth. The air was becoming crisper and she knew she had to make her choice soon. Part of her was still convinced it was all a dream, a terrible twisted nightmare she'd call her mom in tears over and then forget. Even if it was, there was no need to just accept her fate, right?

Right.

Shakily, Bethany got to her feet, almost toppling over as pins and needles ran up her legs. She turned away from the river, but turned back just as quickly, stumbling down the riverbank before she could change her mind. Wading through freezing mud, she reached over her mother's back and pulled on one of the many hilts embedded in it. The blade came out with a stomach-turning squelch, the momentum sending her stumbling back. It was only after she'd fought down the bile that she recognized the object in her hand as a kunai blade. She'd bought a replica for her younger brother's last birthday—an inside joke based on their shared love of anime—but this one was larger, heavier, and clearly effective.

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