“Um, um.” Edlyn mimicked that kittenish gesture she hated most back in the village, bit her lip like nibbling a peach skin, hands curled like cat paws. “Mr. Eli… you won’t despise me, right?”

Eli sucked in a breath, cold as well water down his throat, and panic fluttered like moths. He was now painfully sure he was a lolicon. He hurried, coughed twice. “Ahem. Miss Edlyn, sorry—this road’s bristling with danger.”

Edlyn’s eyes reddened like dawn clouds. She covered them with small palms, voice trembling first, then words following. “Boo-hoo. I’m an orphan. Only my sister and I cling to each other like driftwood.”

“Mr. Eli, since you saved me, let me follow you. I’ve got no home, like a sparrow without a nest.”

Eli frowned, a crease like a knife-line. The girl was off-kilter, yet she carried no storm strong enough to threaten him. Maybe she was just… simple, like a calf that wanders.

He sighed, breath fogging the moment like a cool mist. Take a stranger on the road? With his strength, he feared no ambush slinking from the brush.

Maybe she’s clinging because he pulled her from the river once. Isn’t she afraid he’ll sell her, like a lamb to market? He remembered her twitchy spells, nerves like frayed strings.

Maybe she’s truly sick, the kind that comes and goes like a fever tide, Eli thought, helpless as a lone lantern in wind.

Fine. Let’s see what tricks this little fox is playing, leaves rustling around her pawprints.

If she’s not bright, an orphan, a sister to feed, he’d grudgingly look after her for a time, like shelter against a passing storm. He admitted a whisper of truth—Edlyn’s cuteness tugged like silk thread.

He pressed that thought down like a lid on boiling water and sighed. “Alright. But on the road, you listen to me. No running off like a stray.”

Edlyn wiped tears that weren’t there, a glimmer like dew, and nodded. Then she ducked her head and snickered, laughter like beads rolling. Aiya… with acting this good, won’t this trash Hero be eating from my hand?

“Right, right, Mr. Eli—can I bring my sister?” Her worry perched like a bird on a branch.

Seeing Eli’s brow knot again, Edlyn’s mind went blank, a slate under rain.

But he nodded, steady as a tree. “You two lean on each other. If you’re with me, your sister comes too. Otherwise, who watches her?”

“Oh, oh.” Relief bloomed; Edlyn patted her small chest, heartbeat like a little drum.

“By the way, where’s your sister?” Eli dismissed the earthen wall like melting clay and walked out slow, steps even.

Edlyn blinked, lashes like wings. “Not far. We just walk over, and there she is.”

“This makes me feel like I’m trafficking kids,” Eli muttered, shaking his head like dust off a cloak.

He strolled to the three still struggling, bodies twisting like caught eels. Calm as a pond at dusk, he squatted, tied another neat bow, loops like butterfly wings. He patted the girl’s cheek, gentle as a leaf. “Uncle’s done playing with you, okay.”

Ignoring their wails like stray dogs, Eli took Edlyn’s small hand, warm as bread, and turned away.

Edlyn curled her lip, disdain sharp as a willow switch, and kept quiet.

The small mountain village lay still, roofs crouching like turtles.

Inside Edlyn’s cottage, a hush pooled like shade.

In that tiny house, Edlyn’s blood sister, Angela, held the noodles Edlyn had set aside, steam rising like morning mist. She sat at the table, quiet as a stone, not lifting the fork.

Her pupils flashed gold, bright as coin in sunlight. With a gravity older than her years, she murmured, low like a temple bell, “The Hero is slowly waking. Is war about to start again?”

She lifted the fork, a small silver spear, twirled noodles like a warm river, and tasted. Bliss washed over her, soft as honey. “Mmm, so good~”

Catching herself, she pushed the bowl a little, the scrape a cricket’s chirp. “I don’t know how the Lord’s preparations are going. I don’t know when my task will begin.”

She went still, mind a lake without ripples. Then she breathed out a puff of golden mist, and the light drained from her eyes like sunset fading. She became a bewildered little girl again.

She scratched her head, fingers raking like comb teeth. “Sis isn’t back yet? Mm… I’m so hungry.”

She pulled the bowl close, finished in a few bites, quick as sparrows pecking grain.

After checking the door lock once more, the click neat as a bead, little Angela skipped toward the room, steps like bouncing peas, and went down for her afternoon nap.