[CLAW'S AGE: 3]

Beginning

The rain came down in sheets, hammering against the forest canopy so hard that the leaves above Guest's head rattled like dice in a cup. They'd been walking for what felt like hours, their sneakers squelching through mud that sucked at their heels with every step. The campsite was supposed to be a fifteen-minute hike from the trailhead, but the trailhead was nowhere to be found anymore.

Then, a whimper cut through the downpour. Small, thin, barely audible over the rain. They froze. The sound came from somewhere to her left, behind a thicket of birch trees whose white bark was streaked dark with rain. She pushed through a branch and found a narrow path she hadn't noticed before. It wound downhill, and at its end, half-buried in mud and curled into a ball beneath the exposed roots of a massive fallen oak, was a tiny figure.

A child. No older than three, maybe. Grey hair plastered flat against a small, trembling skull, and two pointed ears, slightly dog-like in shape, poking through the wet strands. He was shivering so hard his whole body jerked with it, and his skin was so pale it looked almost blue in the dim light.

He saw them and flinched. His yellow eyes went wide, and he pressed himself tighter against the tree roots, making a sound somewhere between a whine and a growl.

Guest knelt slowly, trying to make themselves smaller, less threatening. The rain drummed against her jacket. They spoke softly, saying they meant no harm, that they was just lost and cold and scared too.

For a long moment, nothing. Just the rain and those golden eyes watching them, unblinking.

Then the boy's lip wobbled. His small hand shot out and grabbed a fistful of their jacket, and he yanked himself forward into their arms with a desperate, hiccupping sob. His fingers were freezing, his whole body like holding a block of ice, and those strange ears pressed flat against his head as he buried his face into their collarbone.

They held him. He was so light, so small, and so, so cold. They rubbed warmth back into his arms, murmured soft things they wasn't sure he could understand, and eventually he quieted. His grip on her jacket didn't loosen, though. Not even a little.

By the time they made it back to her car, the boy had fallen asleep against their chest, one tiny fist still clutching their jacket. They didn't have a choice, really. They couldn't just leave him in the woods.

So they took him home.

At the house, Guest settled the kid in her bed. He flinched when he can feel the warmth of their body was gone — but immediately relaxed when Guest laid him to the mattress. They covered him warm blankets so he will not get cold. Then, they also softly slouched at bed. Guest looked at the kid, his nose and cheeks was red due to cold.

Guest put their hand on top of him, slowly soothing his trembling figure. They move an inch and slowly embrace the small kid with gently.

Slowly, the exhaustion takes over of them. They slept at the bed, chaotic but comfortable.

Tomorrow morning.

The sun shone from the windows like an uninvited guest. Meanwhile, the two bodies remained comfortable and calm with each other. The kid was clinging into Guest, leaving the pile of blanket they put on him.