Another cloudy afternoon draped itself over the Town on the Gorkhon, and the members of a newly formed family each attended to their own separate schedules today. The warden of the Burakh family was once again busy assisting the Mother Superior and their Kin within the ever-slowly reforming Termitary, while the Town’s future merchant claimed to be spending the entire day “observing the practice of his future trade” but had most likely now veered off either to Uncle Rubin’s clinic or the Soul-and-a-Halves. Finally, the future Mistress of the Earth remained alone in the silent household, tucked in bed with her dolly and staring wearily at the zig-zagging lines in the pale hardwood floorboards.

Somedays Murky felt too overwhelmed to do anything, and today was one of them. With her new dad she would never be able to feign illness as an excuse for her inactions, but he seemed to understand that her senses still needed time to adjust living within the town again. Time all alone to regain her composure. Although she needed these times, it was always during these intense periods of solitude that her brain would soon begin to make her blood feel like cotton, and her head like messy yarn. Whenever this happened she simply hugged her dolly tight and transferred the sensations back into its body where they belonged.

Once she is older, she’ll be living in the Rod, probably all alone. Originally she was going to move there after the Tower was destroyed a year prior, were it not for the Saburovs still being keen on defending their swiftly-crumbling legacy, much like Khan’s sister. That was when Artemy came to her and promised that she would never be forced to sleep in a train car ever again, not after all they’d been through. Soon enough her best friend Sticky found himself under Burakh’s wing, no longer stressing over Smudge’s joke that he had to marry her and discovering that being her brother was a far-better arrangement than becoming her husband. They were an unusual bunch, and still didn’t fit into society’s expectation of a proper family unit, but an odd family was always better than none.

Then Murky heard something knock at the door.

Perhaps “something” was too silly of a label to give the source now that the plague had been quelled, but still she became paralyzed by the noise. Three loud knocks, then several seconds of silence, then three more that sounded harder and more frantic. She could still remember the final days of the sand pest’s reign over the town, curled up tight within the furthest corner of her train car after the disease finally discovered her hiding place. It whispered many things to her from outside, and in her feverish delirium she swore it knocked on her door three times before the Haruspex visited again and made it leave her.

She remained hidden under the covers for the first six knocks, expecting three more to come after, but that did not occur. With morbid curiosity now freeing her muscles of their fearful stiffness, Murky slipped out of the secure embrace of her bed. It would be better to get to a window and look down upon whoever this was instead of allowing her imagination to create something more terrifying. After tucking her dolly safely under the bed sheets, she quietly moved across the cold hardwood floor with her bare feet and out into the upstairs hallway. Yet before she could even get to the window at the end of the hall she heard a harsh creaking sound, followed swiftly by a slam!

Whoever it was had now gotten inside the house.

Murky froze once again, instinctively grabbing and balling up her dress fabric in her fist to calm her racing nerves. Obviously it couldn’t have been her father or brother; they had no reason to knock at their own home. Was this just Clara again? She was still drifting between the homes of her remaining followers and friends, but Murky thought that her and Artemy had already straightened out what days she could join them for dinner and shelter after her fifth “unannounced visit.” Or maybe it was her… sister? No, it couldn’t be. Neither of them would ever make this much noise. If not the Changeling Mistress, then perhaps some rouge burglar!

In a foolishly brave move, she skittered further down the hall until reaching the staircase just to the right and positioned herself against the wall next to it, listening close to every move of the intruder. This was definitely an adult, and probably a man judging by the heavy sound his boots made on the hardwood, but no sounds of opening and rummaging through drawers and closets invaded her ears. Just the heavy repetition of pacing, back and forth ‘round the downstairs rooms. She could clearly hear his rapid, shuddering breaths, whenever he walked close to the steps. As soon as Murky heard him begin ascending the staircase she darted back to the nearest open room, her father’s bedroom, hid under the bed and held her breath, not daring to close the door and alert the intruder. It was then through the dimmed light coming through the curtained window that she could just make out a familiar gray snakeskin coat covering up the figure’s legs as he moved into the room and shut the door behind him.

So it was the Bachelor who had snuck in. Even though he had become mostly harmless now, she still couldn’t find herself trusting him. From the moment he furiously disregarded her advice during their first meeting she knew he was no different from almost all the other adults in the world; just another person who didn’t want her around. She couldn’t fathom why Sticky seemed to actually enjoy the snake-man’s company, nor why her dad did either. The Haruspex held a certain fondness for this rude outsider that only seemed to grow stronger and stronger. He’d even started visiting more often, but she always found an excuse to avoid him. Better to do that than face his frigid gaze.

But why did he break into their house, and… why does it sound like he’s crying?

The doctor hesitated for several moments after shutting the door before he rushed towards the bed and climbed atop it, with his boots and coat still on. Murky had to cover her ears at the obnoxious squeaking of the springs as he kept shifting his position over and over and over, but soon enough he settled, and only the sound of painful sobs reverberated throughout the near-empty room.

Murky waited for minutes just trying to decide what to do. She couldn’t just stay under here and wait for however long it’d take him to stop crying, but at the same time her brain felt like it was wading through mud trying to form her thoughts coherently enough to speak to the doctor. Despite everything she felt about him, all of these behaviors he’d exhibited struck her as… familiar. Bitterly so. Her body shuddered at the recent memory of the last painful cry she had, and that was what finally spurred her to crawl out and face the Bachelor. His body lay curled on the bed with his back facing her, his coat now draped around him like a blanket while his whimpering had since become muffled, as if he’d been gagged.

“Oynon?” Murky softly spoke. That was one of the Kin’s words for “doctor,” but she assumed it also had a more affectionate meaning to it (at least by how her dad always said it to him). Perhaps that would show that she wanted to help.

The Bachelor gasped and flinched hard at the sound of her voice, then quickly sat up and turned to face her.

“How did you get in here?” Even in the dimness of the room Murky could easily make out how angry he looked.

“I was… um… I, uh…” She turned away, her thoughts now scrambled into restrictive stuttering.

“What’s wrong with you! Why did you not let me know that you were here this whole time?!”

“I thought… wu-why did you-”

“Oh shut up! I don’t have time for your nonsense at this moment! Get away from me, NOW!”

Never had she heard him raise his voice like that before, and the ferocity instantly sent her running out the door and downstairs. She hesitated in the main hall, then made straight for the door after a sudden yowl from upstairs spooked her. At first her plan was to open the front door and leave the Bachelor to wallow alone in his misery, then walk all the way to the Termitary and try to find dad so he could handle this. That would be the most reasonable thing to do. However, she stopped herself before turning the knob.

No. That wouldn’t be needed. For once in her life she felt with utmost confidence that she could read another person’s inner thoughts and, more importantly, that she knew how to make them better!

She turned back around and pushed back the curtain concealing the doorway to the staircase room. Artemy kept promising and forgetting to take it down, but admittedly she quite enjoyed the sensation of moving through the heavy sheet; it was like navigating into unseen boundaries. Instead of ascending the stairs she turned right and entered the spacious kitchen. Earthly-brown cupboards and roughly-textured sacks laid close together against the gray tiled walls, with the sink on the opposite side next to the woodburner and the dining table and chairs in the middle (and the many rat bites coating their legs). Water was what she needed. Crackers too, if her father or brother hadn’t finished them off. These were vital in healing one’s mind from a painful outburst.

“Murky?”

The doctor called out as he descended the staircase and moved into the main hallway, not noticing that he had passed her. Even though she was on a mission to help him, Murky still remained quiet in his close proximity, mostly out of instinct. Was it normal for former orphans to always keep their solitary nature even after they’ve found a family, or was she just being weird again? Murky grumbled at herself. Definitely the latter. Rummaging through the largest cabinet, she was able to find both the last handful of crackers and an empty bottle.

“Murky?” She heard him call out again from the other room, his voice now sounding much gentler as he struggled to continue speaking through his sniffling, “Are you still here, pumpkin? I didn’t wish to yell at you, I’m.... Not myself today. You can come out now… please. I’m sorry.”

With the help of a chair she was able to better reach the sink. She filled the bottle full, then noticed a clean rag that had been left in there and decided to rinse it as well. A while back dad had brought her a moistened rag to clean off her tears during one of her crying jags, and that’s when she discovered just how pleasant of a texture it was. This too shall be vital. Just as she turned the nozzle off, she heard the doctor’s heavy footsteps coming back around.

“There you are.”

Murky turned around to see the Bachelor’s disheveled figure standing under the door frame. He maintained a straight posture with his coat now slung casually over his shoulder, and as she forced herself to make eye-contact she could see he was wearing his usual composed expression. One which failed utterly to distract from his red, tear-stained face.

“Forgive me for using a lockpick,” He took a few steps forward and stopped, now looking everywhere except directly at her, “I assumed you all were out and became wracked with desperation. I… Your home was the closest thing to me and I just… I just needed to hide from everything! Is there anything I can do for you, dear? Or am I being a burden to you, because if so I can take my leave-”

“Here,” Murky interrupted, holding out the bottle of water and moist rag, “You need to have a drink and wipe your tears away before doing anything else.”

“E-Excuse me?”

“I left some crackers for you on the table too. Those also help me when my brain is hurting.”

At first he just stood there, stunned by her offer. But not a muscle in the girl’s arm twitched as she continued holding out the valuable items to him, and soon enough he finally understood how serious she was in her advice. He walked up and took the bottle and rag in his black-gloved hands, now looking straight ahead at her.

“Thank you, Murky,” he swallowed and rubbed the rag over an eye that was still leaking tears, then went over and pocketed the snack.

“Do you want to be alone right now?” She asked, gazing down at the floor. Even with regular people it was hard to tell whether they desired company to ease their sorrows or not, let alone odd people like her.

“I… I do, actually. But please don’t be afraid to approach me if you need me. I’ll be in the study.”

Murky decided to venture into the study after finishing a light meal of bread slices, raisins, and beef jerky. Emerging through the doorway curtain, she needed only take a few steps through the main hall before entering the open study. Nothing about the humble room had changed since she and the Termites met with Isidor for the final time just a year ago. The desk still held test tubes and other medical instruments on its surface along with complicated textbooks that her brother had begun trying to study (with varying success), the small drawer against the wall was still guarded by the bull skull seated atop it, and in the left hand corner stood the Burakh’s withered rocking chair for which the Bachelor now sat.

The Bachelor… No wait, what was his name again? Dan… Danya… Daniil! That was it! She should really start trying to remember it now. His boots were now off and placed against the wall with the rag and near-empty bottle next to them, while his coat hung behind him on the chair, yet he still did not take his gloves off. Eyes closed, he gently rocked back and forth at an even pace and would have appeared relaxed were it not for the tense grip he had on the chair’s arms. No longer did any tears leak out, but his eyes were still red-rimmed and puffy. It made her even more uncomfortable to look people in the eye when they appeared this visibly sad, but she silently promised him that she’d at least try for the sake of politeness.

Murky sat down in front of Daniil and silently fidgeted with her sleeves, her thoughts moving back and forth with the light creaking of the chair. Now came the hardest part: saying something comforting. This was another social skill that Murky knew did not come naturally to her. The actions she knew just as well as anyone else, but not the words nor the correct tone of voice, and everybody in this world preferred using words to express themselves to others. So, so many words.

She looked up at Daniil again and saw that he had opened his eyes and ceased his rocking, finally acknowledging her presence but not outwardly reacting to it. He remained just as quiet as she, with that dejected face of his, and Murky found herself blurting out the first sentence that came to mind:

“Try to focus on the good things. It’ll bring your spirits up once you remember how much they outweigh the bad, even now.”

Those were actually her father’s words, but she felt it would be best to borrow them now. Daniil tilted his head slightly at her, then curled his lips into what could barely constitute a smile.

“You’re already sounding so much like Burakh,” he said in his usual flat tone, “Nurture indeed triumphs over nature. I suppose that’s why you're suddenly acting so keen on looking after me?”

The way he spoke made it very difficult for her to tell if he was being condescending or not. Murky paused again as she pawed through her memories once more for any other words of advice from people more socially apt than her, but nothing else came. No, she had to be blunt with him. Before Murky could confess her true feelings, however, she suddenly noticed a reddish-blue splotch on his forehead, barely covered by his crow-black hair.

“Were you fighting robbers?” she found herself asking instinctively.

No, I just hit myself,” Daniil’s brow furrowed at his own remark, looking now like his thoughts were rummaging through the pockets of his brain to try and figure out what to say next, “After I scared you off it dawned on me how horribly irrational I was acting. Had to redirect my mind back to proper order, and at times like that a simple jolt of brute force is all it takes. Of course, it’s only a last resort. I truly don’t recommend you ever try this yourself! Ugh, what am I saying…?”

He rubbed his fingers over the bruise as he spoke, his hand covering the whole half of his face. The movements of his arm caused his sleeve to partially roll down, revealing little pink ovular indents dotting his wrist and on the sides of his glove. She instantly recognized those marks.

“You bite yourself too.”

“No!” He blurted out as he covered his exposed wrist with his other hand, before realizing it was impossible to justify this senseless lie, “Erm, I mean not usually. At least, not for a long while.”

“It’s okay, I do the same thing,” she said, rolling up her sleeve and traced her finger straight up the bone in her arm, her nail leaving a light, pale line across her skin, “Whenever I have painful cries, I bite my arms up to my elbows. Sometimes I also scratch them up, but my nails aren’t sharp like claws. They don’t draw any blood.”

“That isn’t a healthy thing to do.”

“It hurts a lot, but does help me stop thinking about the pain in my head.”

“Even if it does, it’s never a good solution. Do not actively try to draw blood, and please don’t ever use pain to punish yourself.”

There was a notable pause after that remark, neither knowing what to say next. Murky turned her head away from the doctor once more in a fruitless attempt to distract her senses from the misery he emitted. She desperately wanted to ask him what exactly had ignited his painful crying, but still wasn’t sure if that would be considered too personal of a question to ask of someone she hardly knows personally, especially one who is still in such a sad state. There was something connecting them though. That she did know. Just then she was brought back to reality as she heard the chair creak forward again and felt Daniil’s hand touch her shoulder, to which she naturally recoiled.

“My apologies,” Daniil spoke in a noticeably gentler tone as he leaned back and very softly began rocking again, pausing to sniffle back some running mucus before continuing, “I do believe I understand this term of yours. ‘Painful crying,’ as you put it, it’s not the same as the kind one does when they’re merely sad, correct?”

“It isn’t,” Murky confirmed, forcing herself again to look in his direction.

“It’s when the environment around you becomes too hostile to bear, even though everyone else around you is getting on just fine. Noises from people talking loudly begin drilling into your earlobes, sights and scents become even more unpleasant by the moment. And as you try and fail to process it all, soon everything around you stops making any sense.”

“Yes! And then your brain starts burning up like a ball of fire and melting all the good thoughts away! You have to run away before everyone else starts hating you for becoming so angry and upset for no reason!”

“Please don’t shout, dear. I have a headache. But that is certainly a compelling metaphor for such a horrendous sensation. A fire melting us down…”

Murky hadn’t even realized she’d started talking so loud, but made sure to quiet down upon Daniil’s polite request. The only time the girl ever raised her voice was whenever she was well and truly excited about something, and that something had to be BIG: like when her dolly reveals to her a hidden secret of the Earth, or whenever Sticky showed her signs of the elusive Albino’s presence. While her new dad was strange in his own way and thus accepted her eccentricities, here the Bachelor was effortlessly describing every part of her that she could never express herself. This could only mean one thing!

She stood up and reached out to take hold of his hand, gripping firmly but not too tight, “You’re just like me.”

For a moment Murky worried she had said the wrong thing again. The doctor appeared to look saddened by her remark, and didn’t say a word. Then he cast his gaze down at her hands as he began lightly stroking them with his thumbs.

“These hands may have never been intended to come so close together,” he said, a genuine smile finally forming on his face, “But I’m glad they have. You’re right, my dear. There is indeed something undeniably similar about us.”

---

“Does it get any better when you become an adult?” Murky asked as spun a long strand of grass she had plucked around her arm.

The pair had since wandered out past the Works and into the fringes of the Steppe per her request. When Daniil had mentioned an apparently very impressive insect collection he had as a young adult during a discussion of their respective hobbies, she knew at once that she’d finally found the one she was looking for when it came to finding bugs! This mission would be a test for him to show how much vital bug knowledge he’s remembered from his youth by identifying as many as they could find in the grasses, at least until the pollen in the air became too much for either of them to bear (although the wind dying down certainly helped increase their time out here). It was a task she hoped he’d pass with flying colors, although she would forgive him if he didn’t. It would be cruel to disgrace a poor soul for not achieving immediate perfection in such a monumental endeavor.

For right now, though, the two hadn’t found much outside of common flies (Diptera: not “true bugs” according to science despite being their most infamous form) and beetles (Coleoptera: perhaps the most numerous of all animals on Earth). Even though she had wandered the outskirts of the settlement more times than she could count, Daniil kept insisting that she not walk ahead of him as well as try to hold her hand whenever she’d allow, to which she would instead clutch the more interesting texture of his scaly coat. She would have found this annoying enough to growl at him were it not for the fact that she was indeed beginning to enjoy his company.

“Does ‘what’ get better?” Daniil asked in response to her question.

“Our brains,” she said plainly, dropping the blade of grass she was playing with after it failed to coil up to her hand.

“Ah, I suppose you mean if we eventually find methods to make our environments more manageable? Yes, in several ways. You just need to get clever!

“Through my experience I’ve found ways to get away with fidgeting in public. If you’re seated at a table you can comfortably move your hands about or bounce your knee, as long as you don’t bump into anything. Oh, and for the record you do not actually need to look a person in the eyes to make them trust you. Just cast your gaze to their mouths instead. That always fools them well enough.”

Staring at peoples’ mouths instead of their eyes? That sounded so much better! She immediately asked for the doctor to look at her so she could test this herself, and after only a few moments of her usual hesitation she successfully focused her vision on his lips and nose. His eyes were still in her line of vision, but now it felt less like another human peering into her soul so much as it was simply two organs on a person’s face.

“You’re right! It is easier!” Although Murky’s face never appeared outwardly happy to those around her, she made it perfectly clear that on the inside she was beaming! A smile had formed on Daniil’s face, but she quickly lost her focus and had to look downward. Perhaps with more practice she could look at someone’s face for even longer. It was then that she noticed something small and light brown carefully navigating the black, leather landscape of the doctor’s boot, to which she crouched down and gently seized the tiny creature.

“Col-e-op-tera: a beetle,” she stated with utmost confidence, “These are ones with long pointed noses.”

“Those are called ‘weevils,’” Daniil informed her as he sat down next to her for a better look, “I suppose this one must be one of the more common varieties?”

“I guess so, but I can never find these ones as often. They’re too little and hide perfectly on all the plants except the twyre. They never crawl on twyre. Do weevils have their own science name if they’re different from beetles?”

“Well they are still a part of the same order as all other beetles, but their family is unique, of course. Oh, what was the name of it again? I used to know it… Wait a moment! I just remembered I wanted to tell you something before this insect adventure of yours distracted me. Our disorder has its own name too. It’s called ‘autism.’”

“Autizm…” Murky kept her focus on the weevil that crawled on her hand, unsure of what exactly to say about this strange-sounding word.

“The root words for that one aren’t Latin,” the doctor continued, “In fact I believe they’re Greek. Autós is the self, ism is a state or practice one is involved in. As far as I can tell, the word roughly translates to ‘being in the state of oneself.’ There hadn’t been too much research for me to find on this condition, particularly on studies in adults. All the papers I’ve read are just about observing autistic behaviors in children, and one of them was blatantly plagiarized from one of our leading psychiatrist’s-”

“Do you know why autizm makes us cry so much?” Murky interrupted. She knew she was being rude, but this was a question that had been gnawing at her for nearly her entire life.

“Hmm,” Daniil shifted in his sitting position as one would when they’ve begun to feel uncomfortable, “I can’t tell you the clinical answer, but I assume you want some advice on how to handle those meltdowns when they come?”

She nodded vigorously. Crying was without question the worst of all emotions and, had she not felt the embrace of the sand pest, she’d have easily labeled it the worst of her experiences too. If there was any way she could make it stop, any way to prevent people from viewing her as if she were a baby or an unruly animal, she had to learn it at once!

“I’ve practiced long and hard to hold back my more unpleasant emotions. The best action to take is always to find a safe environment to sneak off to. That above all else is an invaluable skill to learn. It’s why I instinctually took the route to your family’s home so that no one could witness me in my most pathetic state. You see, adults aren’t allowed to be taken seriously if they ever cry in public. Especially if they’re supposed to serve as an authority figure.”

“Like a Mistress?”

“Yes, that would fit, although women can get away with crying more often than men can as long as they have the right excuse. I’ve learned that distinction personally… Oh dear, I’m not upsetting you, am I?”

“No…” Murky held her knees close and rested her head on her arms as she turned away.

Daniil sighed, then stood back up, “I’m not trying to make this world out to be an inescapable nightmare for us, but when it comes to our social performances we have undeniably been given a harder lot in life. I think it’s important you learn these facts now. I never did as a child, and I suffered greatly for it. Anyway the sun’s starting to set, we should be heading back now. Burakh will be returning home soon.”

Holding her hand, Daniil led his fellow autistic back up toward the train tracks. By now she wasn’t sure whether her weevil was still crawling on her clothes or had jumped back down into the dirt, although she hoped for the former. Up ahead Murky could see the lone Machine amongst the other faculty buildings that continued to crank away, and to the right the Gorkhon’s gullet which flowed directly into the marsh behind them. In several years time, she will be the one to meticulously look after the water as well as the streets, the veins and lifeblood of their New Town. She will be the Lilac Mistress of Earth, who’s color shall be painted in unity with the other colors of her friends. Her fellow rulers. She hated to admit it, but she still felt slow compared to them. Capella and Taya took to their roles so naturally, and Grace did not have to do much to adjust her carefully crafted routine (although Murky had a feeling she might like to hear about looking at people’s mouths instead of their eyes).

Meanwhile Murky continued to rely on her dolly to speak to her as the other kids were moving on from their toys. She still did not come close to emulating the cool demeanor nor the exquisite vocabulary of a proper Mistress, and maintained a great difficulty in handling crowds. She knew there would still be many more meltdowns in the future, and that knowledge left her heart singed and bitter. It was only then when she remembered the question she wanted to ask the Bachelor all along.

“May I ask what made you cry today?” Her words were blunt, as they should be with such a dire question, “I am only curious.”

The pair both stopped on the bridge. Behind them the setting sun was now unleashing its last rays of brightness across the land, turning the grass a deep orange color and making the gray water below shine. Daniil did not respond to her question right away, instead taking a few steps closer to the edge and fixing his gaze at the western part of town. Murky kept still and patiently waited.

“Understandable,” he finally replied, “I’d say you certainly deserve an answer for what caused me to unlawfully enter your home.

“I had no important business today, so I decided to go to the Broken Heart. When I got there the door was locked, and even though I knew where the owner most-likely was I decided to just spare myself the journey and wait for him to finish his business and come back. As I waited a group of children passed by, clearing playing some kind of game, though I still wouldn’t know which one. They were so loud. And of course they had to pause their running and stay put as they kept talking within earshot of me.”

“Were they mean to you?”

The Bachelor chuckled darkly, “No. They didn’t even notice me. I just heard them, suddenly felt a slight headache with their shouting and the pollen affecting my sinuses, and then… I was reminded of how much of an outsider I still am to this community. How I still have yet to find any comfortable routine in my exile, how few friends I have left, how much of a failure I am in all I wish to accomplish. That’s when I knew I was about to break down and had to leave before anyone could watch me.”

Murky wasn’t quite sure how to respond to his explanation. Not because she couldn’t understand his reasoning; loud noises mixed with twyre pollen was an unquestionably disastrous combination for one’s mind to handle. It was something more… vague. Like he was weaving a hidden meaning in this scenario. She simply kept quiet, waiting for him to give her another hint to his vulnerability, and that’s exactly what he did.

“You know, when I was your age I used to cry every time I lost a game. The competitive ones, to be precise. For reasons that so long escaped me, my mind simply couldn’t allow me to see it as a fantasy. I always put all of my stakes into winning these games, and if I lost it was no different than witnessing my life’s work being instantly taken away. That’s why none of the other children ever wanted to play with me. I was either too quiet or too unpleasantly emotional, so either way I ended up as a burden.”

He let out a heavy sigh and began swaying in place, rubbing his wrists as he did so.

“It’s disappointing to know that I still haven’t curbed this shameful trait.”

“I don’t think it’s so shameful,” Murky replied in a voice she felt sounded the most outwardly kind, “That means that you care a lot about your ideals. We need others to care for us, but we cannot keep going unless we care about ourselves as well.”

He turned back around to face her, “You certainly have your priorities straight, Murky.”

“I had to have one if I wanted to survive,” she said bluntly, moving up to him and cupping her hands as if to physically manifest an image in her mind, “And I think maybe once the settlement’s entirely in our hands we can try again to make something like the Tower, but spread out for the whole Town and Earth around it. That way no one will have to be an outcast.”

Murky looked up at Daniil’s face. His mouth quivered slightly and he appeared to blink quickly a few times, but then another warm smile gradually stretched across his face and he bent down and held out his arms, for which she found herself jumping into without hesitation. She pressed her face deep into the side of his neck as the two held each other close.

“That would be a wonderful idea to bring to life.”

Soon after, Murky found her arms clasped around his neck as he carried her home on his back. By the sound of breathing he certainly wasn’t as used to her weight as dad was, but the Bachelor’s remained determined in carrying out this parental action. He would stay with them for dinner and most likely go to bed with Artemy tonight, as the Stillwater was too far of a walk after all of the day’s exhaustion. And even if he wasn’t there when she woke up the next day, she would still be blessed with the beautiful knowledge that there was a fierce, efficient, determined and kind adult in the world who experienced the world exactly as she did.