Jahree’s eyes flickered open, breaking the veil of sleep that had claimed him. He shifted uneasily, feeling the embrace of unfamiliar sheets. In the dim glow of the early morning, his small hand reached out, groping for his mother’s warmth. “Mama, where?” he mumbled, his voice heavy with the remnants of dreams. Shima, who had been lying awake, lost in her own thoughts, turned to face her son. She saw the confusion etched on his young face and understood his half-formed question. “Where’s what, my little star?” she replied gently, though her heart skipped a beat with the worry that he might be seeking the comfort of his tattered bunny. “Where Jahree?” he asked, his voice tinged with the unsettlement that comes from waking in an unknown place. Shima reached out and pulled him closer, offering a reassuring embrace. “You’re right here,” she said, trying to sound composed, though she felt the tremble in her own voice. “Where’s here?” Jahree’s question followed, his eyes scanning the room, taking in the shapes and shadows that populated this strange new space. “Someplace new. A new world. A safer one,” Shima answered, her voice carrying the weight of their past and the hope of their future. Jahree wrinkled his nose suddenly, a gesture both endearing and comical. “Stinky,” he declared, a child’s frankness cutting through the gravity of the moment. She chuckled, the sound soft and warm in the cool, still air. “Yeah, it smells different,” Shima admitted. The unfamiliar scents of their new surroundings were a sharp reminder of the change they had undergone. “But you’ll get used to it,” she promised. “Things will be different, but we’ll be safer here. You won’t get hurt so much here.” Her words were a soothing balm, an incantation to conjure a protective bubble around her son, to keep him safe from the hurts, both physical and otherwise, that had hounded their heels in the world they’d left behind. “Food?” Jahree asked, hopeful. Shima reached into her pocket. A look of dismay crossed her face as she felt the fabric lining; it was empty. Sighing, she reassured Jahree, “I left them in the other room. We’ll get to try new foods too.” Memories flashed through her mind of the majority of compressed nutrition bars they had securely stashed in the bags they were forced to abandon during their hasty departure. A small wave of relief washed over her as she remembered she was fortunate enough to have slipped a handful of bars into her pocket. They had just enough to last two or three days, provided they rationed them carefully. By then, she hoped fervently that they’d be able to secure some form of employment to earn enough to buy something. When she had engaged in conversation with a contact about their relocation, details about their new life had been frustratingly scarce, but the vague reassurances to not worry still echoed in her mind. “Hungry,” Jahree insisted, a whine creeping into his small voice. In moments of distress and when deprived of his doll, Jahree would ball one hand into a tight little fist, leaving only two fingers sticking straight up. His “bunny,” when he couldn’t have his doll. She scooped Jahree into her arms, cradling his delicate form against her chest, and ventured into the other room where they hoped to find nourishment. The sight that greeted her was Willin, who sat at a table, intently filling out a series of documents aided by a soldier who sat beside him, translating the foreign language. Upon laying eyes on the uniformed man, Jahree’s small body tensed and he snuggled closer into her embrace, his “bunny” hand gripping the fabric of her shirt. She could feel his heartbeat quicken, a silent testament to the unease the military presence evoked. With a soothing murmur to Jahree, she approached the table, her gaze flitting between Willin and the soldier. Her mind was a whirlpool of thought, balancing the hope of new beginnings against the stark reality of their current predicament. She knew that navigating this new environment would be challenging, but for Jahree’s sake, she was determined to muster the resilience they needed to build a stable future “You’re awake. Sai, they’re up,” The guard announced with a glance toward the doorway. In response, a warm, hospitable woman appeared at the threshold, her presence filling the room with maternal care. She was accompanied by two young girls, each exuding a curious charm. The woman greeted them with an amiable smile, her voice imbued with a comforting lilt. “Welcome to Torthoc. You two must have been utterly exhausted, weren’t you? You slept almost a full day. Our healer, Midta, checked on you several times to ensure your well-being. My name is Sai, but you’ll find that most folks here call me Mama Sai.” As she spoke, the girls stood closely behind her, eager anticipation shining in their eyes. “These are Milsa and Lairine,” Sai continued, introducing the girls. “They brought gifts to help welcome you.” Milsa possessed a fantastical appearance, with elegantly pointed ears. Her captivating eyes held dual-hued irises, each split down the center by long, thin pupils that seemed to pierce the very soul. Lairine, on the other hand, was diminutive and delicate, her proportions unique, eliciting a sense of otherworldly grace. The young Lairine stepped forward, her hands tenderly cradling a handmade stuffed rabbit. She spoke in lilting tones, her words unfamiliar yet filled with kindness. “She said this is for the little one. Ket said that the poor dear had lost a favorite toy,” Sai translated, her voice a comforting blend of empathy and warmth. “She created this charming toy in just a single day?” Shima inquired, a note of admiration threading through her voice as she marveled at the extraordinary talents of their young hosts. The craftsmanship and thoughtfulness that Lairine and Milsa had put into their gifts were indeed nothing short of impressive. No, she’s been diligently working on it for the past few weeks,” explained Shima, her voice warm with the pride of the precious labor involved in the crafting. “Originally, it was intended as a present for a baby, since one of her foster sisters is expecting. However, when she heard about your situation, she felt that Jahree might find comfort in it more immediately. Don’t worry, she’s more than happy to create another one for the baby.” “For you,” the little girl announced with careful enunciation, extending the handcrafted doll towards Jahree. “Bunny?” he turned to Shima for confirmation. With a reassuring nod from her, he reached out and accepted the symbolic gesture of comfort. Enclosing the doll in a tender embrace, Jahree’s tension seemed to ebb away, his posture relaxing as he held the soft fabric close. “Thank you so much,” Shima expressed her gratitude with heartfelt sincerity. “He’s had a strong attachment to his previous doll, and losing it was very difficult for him.” “Ket mentioned he was quite distressed,” Sai said. “And we made this for you.” Milsa extended her arms, presenting a dress crafted with the intricate designs typical of the regional fashion. “Is this for me?” inquired Shima, her eyes wide with delight. “Yes,” Sai confirmed. “We’re teaching all the children how to sew. It’s part of our program to provide clothing for refugees. Together with my husband, I operate a foster home. It’s among several in the area offering sanctuary to children who can’t live with their parents. Milsa has been part of our family since she lost her parents at the age of four. As for Lairine, her father is currently serving with the military to the north. Her mom had an accident and isn’t able to keep up with an active youngster. She’ll be with us until her father can secure a station closer to home. It’s been just a few months, but we hope he’ll be reassigned soon.” “It’s not Lairine’s first time with us. She’s come and gone in the past. Moreover, she sees her mother daily, so they’re not truly apart,” Sai continued, with a gentle smile. “That’s very kind of you,” Shima responded, visibly touched by the compassion shown toward the children. “It’s really wonderful that you provide such care for kids in need.” Jahree felt a pang of hunger echoing in his belly. His voice was a faint echo of discomfort in the strange new environment. “Bunny hungry,” Jahree said softly, his words a simple conveyance of his need. Shima, always attentive to her son’s needs, hurried to address his discomfort. “Sorry,” she said, her heart aching with the desire to provide more than just the necessities. She quickly rummaged through their scant belongings and retrieved one of the few remaining nutrition bars they had managed to keep with them amidst the chaos. She carefully unwrapped it, presenting it to Jahree with a sympathetic smile. “Red?” he asked hopefully, his young mind clinging to the comfort of familiarity - the red wrapper of his favorite flavor. “Sorry.” Shima’s apology was tinged with regret, reflecting the loss of more than just a child’s preferred treat. “We lost the red ones. But you like this flavor too.” She tried to encourage a sense of normalcy, even when little remained the same. Jahree sighed, his small body heavy with the weight of their losses. “Lost Bunny, lost bags, lost food, lost me.” His words were simple, but they carried the profound sense of being unmoored in a vast sea of uncertainty. Shima hugged the boy in her arms, her own heart feeling the tugs of his confusion and sadness. “I’m sorry, little one.” Her voice was soothing, a lullaby of hope amidst the storm. “I know you don’t understand, but it’ll be so much better here. You’ll see.” She tried to inject a note of optimism about the new beginnings that awaited them, even as they grieved for what was left behind. Sai, who had been observing the exchange with a compassionate gaze, saw an opportunity to provide a distraction. “Would you like to play with Milsa and Lair?” she offered warmly. “There are some toys in the other room.” Her suggestion was like a beacon of light, a reminder that even in unfamiliar surroundings, children could find joy and connection. “Toys?” Jahree’s interest was piqued at the mention of playthings, a universal language of childhood delight. He looked up at his mom with eyes that seemed to ask for permission and assurance all at once. “Play?” Shima gave a gentle nod, a silent message of encouragement. “If you want. I’ll be here with Mama Sai if you need me.” She sought to provide him with the freedom to explore, while also offering the comfort of her nearby presence. As Shima set him down, Jahree’s survival instincts, sharpened far beyond his tender years, reminded him of their need for cautiousness. He put a finger to his lips and looked toward the guard, a meaningful gesture that conveyed more than words ever could. “Shh,” he hissed quietly. “Play quiet. Stay by wall.” It was a strategy they had relied on before, one that had kept him safe in situations far less secure than this. The guard paid little attention as Milsa and Lair took Jahree’s hands, leading him off with the innocent chatter and giggles of childhood. Their voices were a soft symphony, contrasting with the heavy silence they had left behind, as Jahree ventured towards a momentary escape from the reality that lay just beyond the door. He’s three years old?” inquired Sai, with a tilt of his head indicating curiosity. “Did he just turn three, or…?” “No, he’ll actually be four before long,” Shima replied, her voice carrying a hint of concern. “Unfortunately, he isn’t much of a talker. He’s spent too much time around members of the watch. They can’t stand children, and if the little ones become too boisterous, they don’t hesitate to get rough. Jahree was once such a vibrant, joyful child until...” She trailed off, unsure of how much information she could safely disclose in their current setting. “Before they took an interest in him?” Sai finished her thought, a keen understanding in her eyes. Shima simply nodded in confirmation. “More than once,” she revealed, with a heaviness in her voice that indicated this was a painful subject to discuss. Upon hearing this, Sai emitted a low growl, an instinctive and visceral reaction to the mention of harm coming to a child. Shima, startled by the sound, instinctively took a step back. “Oh, I apologize, I didn’t mean to frighten you,” Sai quickly said, noting her reaction. “It’s just that the idea of someone hurting a child—it makes me incredibly angry. Children should be cherished and protected,” she added passionately. “My husband, Tey, is looking into job opportunities for Willin from the community. There are some generous individuals who don’t mind giving work to refugees. Admittedly, it’s not glamorous work, but it’s honest, and it’ll provide us with some income while he becomes proficient in Menthan,” Sai told Shima. “I’ll also speak with the local teacher about providing you with assistance in learning the language. And Jahree, once he turns four, might be ready to start attending school, too. Some children from refugee backgrounds choose to wait an extra year, though; it helps them settle in more comfortably.” Shima mused aloud, “To adjust and to learn the language?” Sai shook her head, dismissing the concern with a gesture. “You’ll find that most children grasp it quite quickly, but the teacher will offer additional support if needed. Honestly, at this young age, it’s usually not an overly challenging transition. “There’s a house nearby for you to rent. The owner of the property is already apprised of your financial predicament and is sympathetic to your current lack of funds. He has offered to allow you to reside in this house at no cost for the next few months. The catch, however, is that the house requires some renovations, a condition of the free stay. The owner is committed to providing all the necessary supplies and tools you would need to carry out these repairs. You simply have to contribute your labor and time. “Unfortunately, the house is unfurnished. We can lend you bed rolls and pillows. Admittedly, this is not much, but it is what we can manage to offer from our own limited resources.” Shima was struck by the kindness and support she was being offered and felt a deep sense of gratitude. She had not expected to receive even this level of aid. “To bring you here and then just say ‘Thanks for coming, good luck’ would be horrible manners. Shades, that would be as bad as pushing a dragonling from a cliff and expecting him to fly.” Puzzled, Shima asked, “A dragonling?” “A baby dragon. Most that young can’t fly. They might think to glide to the ground, but they’d still probably get hurt,” Sai explained. Laughter echoed from the adjacent room, the lighthearted sound a stark contrast to the otherwise still atmosphere. Shima paused to listen, a small smile playing on her lips as she discerned the voices of the girls, who were embroiled in a lively attempt to communicate something to Jahree. The boy, who for so long had been cloaked in silence, was now animatedly objecting, asserting that they talked wrong and they needed to listen. It was the most he had said at one time in ages. Shima couldn’t help but feel a sense of hope—despite the primitive state of the world, this cultural exchange might be exactly what Jahree needed to thrive. Sai’s voice tinged with pride as she said, “Those two have quite a knack for helping the refugees adapt. Milsa especially is becoming quite proficient in Tamerian, though she stubbornly refuses to converse in it. She’s convinced that using the local language would impede your progress in learning Menthan. “It’s surprising she didn’t express herself much at the beginning. It’s as if she’s undergone a complete transformation over the years. And she’s only seventeen.” “Seventeen?” Shima echoed, a touch of disbelief in her tone. “She doesn’t seem that old.” “That’s because she’s not human,” Sai clarified. “She’s an elf.” Shima’s eyes widened with a new understanding. “So, that’s the reason for her unusual appearance?” Sai simply nodded. “Elves age slower than humans. And as for Lair,” she added, “she’s of mixed heritage—half dwarf, half gnome.” “Mama! Bird!” Jahree exclaimed with a mix of excitement and urgency, bursting into the room with wide-eyed wonder. Upon noticing the guard’s attention snapping towards him, he clamped his small hand over his mouth, hastily retreating to press his diminutive frame tightly against the closest wall to remain inconspicuous. The guard, evidently piqued by Jahree’s sudden interest, tilted his head, a mild curiosity etched on his features. “You saw a bird?” he inquired, a slight smile cracking the stern facade. “Do you like birds?” Willan, seizing the opportunity to bridge their worlds with shared marvels, joined the conversation with a tone of nostalgia. “We rarely saw them in the city,” he explained, his words painting an image of an urban sprawl seldom graced by the flutter of wings or the melody of chirps. From his spot by the wall, Jahree, eyes still wide with the secret he held, gestured urgently yet quietly to his mother. “Mama, come. Bird,” he whispered, the softness of his voice belying the urgency of his message. He skulked along the perimeter of the room until he arrived at the threshold of the door. His hushed intonation repeated like a delicate incantation, “Come.” Shima, observing the scene and the light that now danced in her son’s eyes, couldn’t help but let a warm smile spread across her face. “This must be some bird,” she remarked with a gentle chuckle, her heart enthralled by the innocent enthusiasm of her child. Sai caught the infectious curiosity that hung in the air and voiced a proposition with a sense of camaraderie, “Let’s see.” All attention now shifted towards the window as it offered the only vantage point to the spectacle that had captivated Jahree. The young boy was diligently leaning against the pane, his gaze fixed intently on whatever wonder lay down the road. Shima, moved by her son’s fervor, stepped toward the window, craning her neck alongside Jahree’s to share in the moment of discovery. The two silhouettes stood poised in quiet anticipation, peering into the world outside, awaiting the sight of the elusive bird that had stirred such excitement “Big bird.” Jahree laughed, the sound emanating from the depth of his belly in a vibrant echo of innocent amusement. As he stood gazing out of the window with wide-eyed curiosity, Shima’s heart began a rhythmic dance of trepidation. The sight that brought such joy to Jahree filled her with unease. She grabbed his arm with a firmness that betrayed her rising panic, pulling him away from the window. “Brothers of peace! What is that?” Her voice wavered, quivering with a mix of fascination and fear. For the first time, she truly questioned the decision to venture into this unknown and peculiar world. But Jahree was not encumbered by such concerns. He wriggled free from her grasp with the effortless determination of a child, drawn once again to the captivating view outside. Shima, although apprehensive, couldn’t resist the urge to rejoin him and try to make sense of the bewildering spectacle before them. Outside, she observed the reactions of the people as the large creature made its descent. They made room for it, stepping aside in a casual, orderly fashion, without a hint of panic or alarm. It was as if the presence of such a colossal being was an everyday occurrence. As Shima watched, the creature underwent a startling metamorphosis, its massive form dwindling and contorting until it adopted the silhouette of a man. The figure started to make his way down the street towards their position, his strides full of purpose and intent. “Oh, that’s no bird. That’s Papa Tey,” Sai announced with a reassuring chuckle. “Tey bird?” Jahree inquired, his fascination unabated, as he tried to piece together the scene he had just witnessed. “He’s a dragon, a flying lizard,” Sai explained, his voice tinged with pride. “He’s mostly dragon, but his one grandmother was human.” Shima’s eyes, still round with disbelief, shifted from the retreating form of the transformed dragon to Sai. “You married something that isn’t human?” she asked, the concept pushing the boundaries of her understanding. “Of course I did. I’m a dragon too,” Sai replied, a twinkle in her eye as she shared the truth of her own heritage As Shima watched in disbelief, the transformation occurred in the blink of an eye. Her companion’s hand underwent a startling metamorphosis. Four fingers began to meld together, eventually leaving only three distinct digits. The skin shifted hues before becoming cloaked with fine, shimmering scales. Yet, as quickly as the phenomenon had commenced, it ceased, and the hand reverted to its original human form within the span of a minute. Retreating a few steps, Shima tried to process the sight. “What?” she exclaimed, her gaze flickering rapidly between the hand in question and the girls and then to the guard in the other room. In an attempt to soothe Shima’s evident shock, Sai began to explain. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” she said with a note of reassurance. “You see, on the planet Torthoc, diversity thrives. Its inhabitants form a rich tapestry of peoples—dragons, elves, gnomes, dwarves, trolls, rocs, unicorns, merfolk, immortals, and many others, as well as humans. The majority of us coexist in peace and harmony. Some beings, such as elves and gnomes, look similar to humans, while others, like the dragons and rocs—which are, in fact, giant birds—bear no resemblance to humankind whatsoever. Many of us who don’t look human, can change shape to look like we are. We’ll help you learn to tell the difference. Please, don’t be alarmed. Things here may indeed be more unique than you initially realized, but rest assured, this world is a sanctuary. It is a haven far safer and more accepting than any you have known before.” With these words, Shima’s companion extended an encouraging smile, offering both comfort and the promise of guidance in this extraordinary and new chapter of her life on Torthoc. Tey entered. “Sorry, I’m so late. I was caught up talking to someone about a bed. You must be the new family that arrived.” “This is Shima and Jahree. Willin is still doing paperwork with Zar,” the greeter informed. “Zar? No wonder it’s taking an age. He can barely read. And his Tamerian is worse than a drunk gnome’s,” Tey remarked with a hint of playful exasperation. “Watch your manners,” Sai admonished Tey with a gentle but firm tone. “Sorry.” Tey immediately apologized, recognizing the inappropriateness of his comment. Just then, Jahree tugged on the hem of Tey’s shirt to catch his attention. With innocent curiosity, he asked, “You bird?” They squatted down to eye level with the boy. “No, I’m a dragon. We have scales, not feathers, and we tend to be much larger as well.” Jahree looked at him with a mix of wonder and understanding. “Big dragon,” Jahree observed. “ Yeah, I’m kind of big for a dragon too. Say, would you like to go flying sometime?” The offer lit Jahree’s eyes up with excitement. “In an airship?” he asked, his gaze shifting momentarily out the window. “No need for airships. You would fly with me,” Tey clarified gently, his voice filled with warmth. However, understanding the importance of consent and safety, he glanced over at Shima, adding a condition. “Of course, we’ll soar the skies only when your mom decides it’s safe and feels comfortable with the idea.” He stood, as steadfast as a bastion against any uncertainty. “For little ones like him,” he said, gesturing to a child nearby, “ I either use a harness or hold in my arms. It’s as safe as an airship, or so I’m told. I’ve never even seen one. But we’ll wait. You didn’t realize there were people besides humans or that some could seem so monstrous.” Shima’s face turned a shade of pink, a clear sign of her discomfort. “Well, I didn’t...” she stammered, words failing her in the face of her naivete. “It’s okay,” Tey assured her with a comforting smile that seemed to smooth the wrinkles of the room’s tension. “Not everyone is as forthcoming with such information. Take Raylee, for example; she doesn’t always have the luxury of time to explain everything. I know about one family—poor souls—they didn’t even know they were relocating until the very moment Raylee practically shoved them through the portal without so much as a word of caution.” Sai’s eyebrows knitted together in a frown of disapproval. “That’s certainly something she’s not supposed to do,” she commented. Tey responded with an indifferent shrug, the universal gesture of acceptance of the imperfection of their situation. “Raylee does what she believes is necessary. She makes the tough calls, and oftentimes, they’re just enough.” With a decisive nod, Tey then offered, “Now, let me help Zar and Willin with the forms so we can help you get settled.”