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The day I walked for the first time, my mother cried.
And the day I ran off for the first time, my mother nearly had a heart attack.
But could I really be blamed?
For the past nine months, I had been carried, cradled, and—worst of all—contained.
As a man who had lived ninety-eight lives, fought in wars, outrun tanks and explosions, and even escaped the wrath of Truck-kun himself, I simply could not allow myself to be restricted any longer.
So, the moment my tiny, stubby baby legs gained enough strength… I ran.
Well. More like waddled. But in my mind? I was sprinting. It started innocently enough.
Evelyne had left me on a blanket in the market square, chatting with a group of village women. It was a pleasant afternoon—the sea breeze was gentle, the sun was warm, and I was surrounded by baskets of fresh bread and dried fish.
A perfect day.
But then I saw something. A fat, delicious-looking seagull, perched atop a cart just a few feet away.
We met eyes. The bird tilted its head, I tilted mine.
With single-minded determination, I rose to my feet, planted my wobbly little legs firmly on the ground, and—
"Gweh!"
—launched myself forward.
"CAMDEN!" Evelyne shrieked, but by then it was too late.
I stumbled across the square, tiny arms outstretched, dead-set on catching the seagull of my dreams.
[A/N: Keep in mind Camden's current character is not influenced by any of his previous lives. He will act his age as I will not have a century old man in a child's body.]
The bird, however, had other plans. With an infuriatingly smug flap of its wings, it hopped off the cart, moving just out of my reach.
I paused. It paused.
I took a step forward. It took a step back.
I narrowed my eyes. This feathery bastard was toying with me.
What started as one baby vs. one bird quickly escalated into something far more dramatic. At first, the villagers merely watched—amused, charmed even.
"Look at him go!"
"That little fella's determined!"
"Who's he chasing? A bird? Ahahaha!"
But then, I started knocking things over. And suddenly, it wasn't so funny anymore.
"My fish basket!"
"The bread! The bread is rolling away!"
"Catch that baby!"
Like a wave of absolute madness, my chase tore through the market—toppling crates, spilling flour, sending chickens scattering in every direction. At some point, a group of village children joined me, hooting and laughing, turning my solo pursuit into a full-blown stampede.
"Get the bird!"
"Run, Camden, run!"
"That's my boy!" one of the old fishermen cackled, cheering me on.
Meanwhile, Evelyne was screaming my name, her voice filled with both terror and resignation.
"CAMDEN WILDER, GET BACK HERE!"
But I could not be stopped. For I had a mission, for I was determined, for I was the fastest waddle-runner to ever live.
For I alone am the honoured one.
"..."
Just when I thought victory was within reach, the unthinkable happened. The seagull turned—looked me dead in the eyes—and then, with an air of mocking finality…
It took flight. Vanished into the sky, taking my dreams with it.
I stumbled to a stop, arms dropping to my sides.
"Guh…" I gurgled, the devastation sinking in.
That bird had bested me.
And I—Camden, war hero, black ops legend, Fast & Furious champion, immortal escape artist—Had lost.
That's when Evelyne caught up to me.
"Got you!" she gasped, scooping me up into her arms, panting. "By the gods, Camden, you nearly gave me a heart attack!" I just pouted, betrayed.
She pressed her forehead against mine, relieved but exhausted. "You, my little menace, are trouble." One of the grannies hobbled over, chuckling. "Oh, let the boy be, Evelyne! He's got spirit!"
"Too much spirit!" Evelyne groaned. The old fisher wives giggled as they pinched my chubby cheeks."At least we know he'll be a strong one!"
I didn't care. I was still mourning my lost bird.
From that day forward, I was a free agent. Much to Evelyne's everlasting frustration, I developed the uncanny ability to disappear the moment she took her eyes off me.
She'd be sewing peacefully at the tailor's shop, thinking I was playing quietly—
And next thing she knew, I was already halfway across the village, riding a goat.
"CAMDEN!"
Other times, she'd be chatting with the baker, only to look down and realize I was no longer at her feet. Where was I?
Inside a barrel. How did I get there?
Even I didn't know.
"I turn away for one second—one SECOND!" Evelyne would wail.
"You should leash him," Elias suggested, grinning.
"I am not leashing my child!"
"Then good luck catching him." And catch me, they did not.
At some point, the entire village just accepted my antics as a part of daily life. The butchers would see me toddling past and sigh, "There he goes again."
The fishermen would find me on the docks, mutter "figured he'd show up here," and let me sit on overturned barrels while they worked. Even the village grannies—my greatest enablers—would hide me when Evelyne came storming through looking for me.
"We haven't seen him, dear!"
Meanwhile, I was under their table, happily munching on dried fruit.
Life was good.
[A month later]
Now, as a former grown man, my biggest struggle wasn't my wandering tendencies—it was the fact that my baby mouth couldn't form words properly.
I had so much to say.
But every time I tried, all that came out was:
"Gah!"
"Bweh!"
"No!"
And the worst one yet—
"MAMA!"
Which I only ever used strategically when I needed forgiveness. Like that one time I accidentally knocked over a basket of fish.
Evelyne had glared at me so hard I could feel my past ninety-eight lives trembling in fear. So, in the most innocent baby voice I could muster, I looked up at her with big, watery eyes and whispered:
"Mama…"
Her rage melted instantly.
"Oh, you little—" She sighed, picking me up. "You are far too smart for your own good."
And so, I got away with yet another crime.
Days blurred into weeks, weeks into months. Evelyne worked as a seamstress, making dresses and coats for the village women. I spent my time exploring, causing problems, and becoming the undisputed king of the village children.
The grannies spoiled me. The uncles gave me candy. The fishermen let me nap in their boats. Even Elias—grumpy old man that he was—had warmed up to me, ruffling my hair whenever he passed by.
As for Evelyne… she never stopped worrying about me.
But every time she found me safe, happy, and giggling, she would sigh, pull me into her arms, and murmur— "You're going to be a handful when you grow up, my love."
She had no idea how right she was.
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[2 and half years later]
At three years old, I was unstoppable.
I had grown bigger, faster, craftier. My legs were stronger, my speech was improving, and my ability to disappear had reached legendary status. Evelyne had long given up on keeping me contained, instead opting for a new strategy—letting the village babysit me.
And by "babysit," I mean tolerate my chaos.
I spent most of my days at the docks, running between the fishermen and their boats, soaking up knowledge that no toddler should realistically care about.
"Ye see, Camden, when the wind comes from the west, the fish swim lower," Old Man Garret would explain, gutting a fresh catch while I sat on a barrel.
"Lower," I'd repeat, nodding seriously as if I fully understood marine biology.
Another fisherman, Tomas, would point out different fish to me. "Now that's a cod."
"Cod," I'd parrot.
"And this ugly thing?" He held up a hideous, grumpy-looking fish with bulging eyes. I stared at it. Blinked. Then deadpanned, "Elias."
The fishermen erupted into laughter.
"BAHAHA! You hear that, old man? The boy thinks you're an ugly fish!"
Elias, who just so happened to be walking by at that very moment, grumbled. "You're lucky your mother likes you, boy." I simply grinned.
Despite my small size, I was practically a dock worker at this point. I helped untangle nets (or at least attempted to). I handed out fishing hooks (sometimes too enthusiastically). I stole fish when no one was looking (which everyone always noticed).
The fishermen loved me. But they also feared me. Because when I was bored, things happened.
One time, I accidentally (on purpose) untied a boat, letting it drift off into the harbor.
"CAMDEN!"
Another time, I chased a seagull again, and in the process, knocked over three barrels of shrimp, a food stall and someone's wedding cake.
"CAMDEN!"
And there was also that one incident where I tried to help "clean" the fish by throwing them back into the ocean.
"CAMDEN!"
But my personal favorite?
The day I climbed onto a boat, declared myself "CAPTAIN CAMDEN," and refused to let anyone onboard unless they paid me "candy taxes." Elias had to personally drag me off the ship.
"You are three years old," he muttered as he plopped me down onto the docks.
"And I own the sea, Elias."
"No, you don't."
"You're just mad because you have to pay taxes."
"BOY, I SWEAR—"
When I wasn't causing anarchy at the docks, I was with my sweet mommy Evelyne, sitting beside her as she worked as the village seamstress. Her little workshop, located near the center of town, was always warm and cozy.
The walls were lined with fabric rolls and spools of thread. The scent of fresh linen and lavender filled the air. And the sound of needles stitching was like a gentle lullaby.
I spent hours watching her work, fascinated by how her hands moved so skillfully. She would hum as she sewed, her voice soft and sweet, occasionally glancing at me with a fond smile.
"You're awfully quiet today," she'd tease. "Plotting something?"
I'd look up from where I was playing with a scrap of fabric and flash her my most angelic smile. "I would never, Mama."
Of course, this was a lie.
Because the moment she looked away, I would steal her sewing kit and attempt to make something of my own. The results? Disastrous.
By the time Evelyne noticed, I was usually wrapped up in thread, looking like a tangled human cocoon. She would sigh, untangle me, and say, "Maybe wait until you're older, my love."
Did I listen?
No.
[6 months later]
By the time I turned three and a half, I was beloved by nearly everyone. The housewives adored me, the old grannies fed me constantly.
The village kids followed me everywhere. And the fishermen… well, they both feared and admired me. Even Elias, despite all his grumbling, had started bringing me little wooden carvings of ships.
He'd pretend it was no big deal, but I knew. I was growing on him. Life in the village was perfect.
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[2 years later]
Gone were the days when I was an awkward toddler trying to make sense of the world around me. Now, I was a little adventurer, with a growing sense of curiosity and a penchant for mischief that was only outmatched by my love for horses.
You see, the good folks of the village were kind-hearted, and one day, a passing trader—a wiry man with a thick beard and a patched-up coat—left behind a gift.
I remember the moment clearly.
The trader had been talking with Evelyne for a while, exchanging some of his wares for cloth and other items, when he pulled out a small chest from his cart and handed it over to my mother. Inside the chest was a delicate leather harness and a shiny, new bridle.
"Something for your son, miss," he had said with a mysterious smile.
Evelyne was bewildered.
"I… I don't understand," she had replied, glancing at the bridle and then at the trader.
The man simply nodded. "It's for the pony. That's a gift, miss. No need to pay."
My eyes had grown wide. My heart was pounding. "A pony?" I repeated, my voice rising in excitement. He chuckled. "Yep, it's in the cart. For the boy, I say."
I ran over to the cart and peered inside to see a small, white pony standing there, its mane a mixture of pure white with streaks of silver, like a starry night sky.
The trader had looked at my mother again, giving her a solemn nod. "Take good care of him, and he'll take good care of you."
My mother, still hesitant, had smiled in disbelief. But she soon realized there was no way she could refuse such a gift.
From the moment I met Starlight, the pony, we became inseparable. He wasn't like the other horses in the village. He was gentle and patient, as though he had been waiting for me to come along and find him.
Every morning, after a hearty breakfast of bread and fruit, I would run out of the little cottage and race to the stables, where Starlight was kept.
I would giggle as I saw him whinny in greeting, his bright eyes sparkling as I approached.
My mother, of course, was always nearby on her own horse, a much larger and beautiful creature she called Sable.
"Careful, Camden," she would warn as I climbed onto Starlight's back, her voice soft and warm. "Remember what I taught you about balance."
I nodded eagerly, my legs barely reaching the sides of Starlight's belly, but I was determined.
Evelyne would always start by leading us around the meadow, letting Starlight adjust to my weight and the way my tiny hands clung to the reins. At first, I would feel wobbly, almost falling off the saddle a couple of times, but then, little by little, I started to get the hang of it.
Soon enough, I was able to steer Starlight all on my own, making him trot and even gallop around the fields alongside my mother on Sable.
My heart swelled with pride every time Evelyne would clap her hands and tell me how proud she was.
"Look at you, Camden! You're riding like a true adventurer!" she'd say with that smile of hers, the one that made my heart swell.
As the days went on, our bond grew. Starlight and I became as close as a boy and his horse could be. His soft coat would rub against me every time I sat on his back, and I would always giggle when his breath puffed against my face.
Each time Evelyne and I went out together, we would ride alongside each other, creating a rhythm as our horses galloped in unison.
The sound of hooves on the ground was like music, and I felt like we were the kings of the world as we rode through the rolling meadows, over streams, and down dirt paths.
One morning, a particularly crisp late spring day, I woke up earlier than usual. The sun was barely rising, and the soft light of dawn lit the sky in hues of gold and pink.
Evelyne was still asleep, her gentle breathing the only sound in the quiet cottage.
I quietly slipped out of bed and went to my little corner, where I kept a small bundle of crumbled parchment.
There, I took out a piece of paper, grabbed the quill, and carefully wrote a short note for my mother.
It was as simple as it could be:
"Dear Mama,
I'm going into the woods with Starlight. Don't worry, I'll be back before the sun is high.
Love, Camden."
I folded the letter neatly and placed it on the little table by my bed, then tiptoed out the door.
Starlight was already waiting for me, grazing in the field behind our cottage. His gentle neighing greeted me as I approached. I gave him a quick pat on the nose, murmuring, "Ready for an adventure?"
Starlight snorted, and I took that as a resounding yes.
I climbed onto his back and gently urged him forward. We walked silently through the morning mist, heading toward the dense forest that lay just beyond the village's borders.
The woods were my playground, a place I loved to explore and imagine all sorts of magical things. I had never gone deep into them by myself, but today felt different.
The birds were just starting to sing as we entered the cool shadows of the trees, the air thick with the smell of pine and earth. My little pony moved carefully through the underbrush, his hooves making soft sounds on the forest floor.
I urged Starlight into a gentle trot, the sound of hooves muffling in the quiet morning. The world felt alive around me, as if the forest was welcoming me into its heart.
We moved deeper and deeper into the woods, winding through tall trees and dense thickets.
I was careful, making sure to stay on the path, even though the forest seemed to whisper secrets to me at every turn.
I loved being alone in nature, where I could feel the magic of the world at my fingertips, where no one could tell me what to do or where to go.
Starlight was my companion, and together, we could go anywhere.
After a while, I decided to dismount and sit on a nearby log. Starlight nuzzled me affectionately as I sat, looking out into the stillness of the woods.
The morning mist had started to fade, and the sun was slowly climbing higher into the sky.
Starlight nudged my shoulder, and I laughed softly, feeling the warmth of the day beginning to fill the air.
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