Arrow Lake There is a cat hovering in the men's bathroom at the radio station

For @Aurëwen, @Mahler also welcome!

The days since his birth were as uneventful as any newborn's to the onlooking eye. Dragomir had mastered the art of securing a teat and pulling milk from it. He'd mastered flattening himself out on his rotund baby belly and falling asleep in an instant. Movement was still a major hurdle for him; he had only flimsy, muscle-less neonate limbs to propel himself around with, and they weren't effective for much more than scooting a few inches or spinning himself around. The effort wasn't often worth the reward, so he spent a lot of time simply lounging in place.

From Dragomir's perspective, this was all very different.

On an hourly basis, he was beset by enemies. Today it was space invaders, with tentacular eye stalks, rippling maws, and scaly, reptilian skin. You might wonder how a newborn could imagine such things. They say that a newborn's mind is so incredibly vast, they can experience all realities at once, and their imaginations are limitless and capable of drawing on ancient knowledge. This was true of Dragomir as well. But don't worry. Dragomir would grow out of this expansive knowledge, as all newborns did, by the time he was able to speak, and would soon forget about all the different worlds in his head. There would be no miraculous stories of life beyond, no incredible impossible knowledge as he aged. This was a time for just his infancy, where his brain was developing so rapidly, it was no wonder he was experiencing insane things inside his head. The only lasting impact would be an appreciation for fantastical, clearly fictional stories.

The leader of the Gnargk'han—that was the name of this species of alien that he was battling in his imagination—clattered its five spears against a crude buckler held in its sixth wriggly arm, and Dragomir issued a challenging roar in response, a sound that translated into the real world as a tiny peep.