“What’s your name?” She asked me for what felt like the fiftieth time. It probably was. It was getting quite annoying to have to rebuff this question over and over. The little one didn’t seem to mind the repetition however and kept on hammering the point. “Come oon! Tell me!” I kept my mouth shut as I kept marching forward, albeit at what felt like glacial pace to let her keep up with me. Why does she want to even know my name, it’s not like I know hers.

The thought stops me in my tracks and she stumbles on the stone-paved road. Names. The town’s guard will want them before we enter. One of the way they check for infiltration by some of the more sneaky Torments that sometimes appear this close to the edge of the world is by contrasting information against the Veda. The records of all known living individuals in the Lands Inside. I will be in there of course, but her… she won’t be in that book.

“What’s wrong?” She asks me curiously as my mind races trying to come up with a solution that won’t end with her getting hurt. “Did I say something wrong?” I hear the confusion in her voice and realize I don’t have time to waste on thinking right now. I lean down to meet her face to face and give her my best smile despite the turmoil stirring within. “No, everything you said was fine. It’s just… there’s going to be some people in the town asking for your name.” Her brows furrow at my words.

“Tell you what though, I’ll tell you my name-” Her eyes light up as I speak and a wide beaming smile forms on her lips. Even a blind person would be able to feel the sheer joy radiating from the little girl “-if you tell me yours!” Her expression freezes, and the feeling of hope withers into nothingness as both of us stay more or less still. Time lumbers on as the moment becomes eternity.

She’s the one to break the awkward quiet that formed. “I.. I don’t know what my name is.” Her eyes search mine, seemingly hoping to find some sort of answer. I don’t have one. I think my smiling mask fades, replaced by confusion as she rapidly stutters out several suggestions. “Lu-Luca! No. Um.. Maria! Ha-hana?” I see tears forming in the corners of her eyes as she frantically searches for something that she’d consider her name.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

Panic seems to overcome her as she tries to take a step away, seemingly afraid as if she’s done something wrong. I know that if I don’t act, her state will only become worse. So I act - I reach out and hug her tight, hoping the wordless action will be understood for what it’s meant to be. That no matter what name she has, I’ll accept her.

It takes her a good few moments to calm down, and her breathing is still shallow and rapid. I take the opportunity to speak “When you’re feeling like you don’t know what to do, focus on your breathing.” She stiffens at my voice, but quickly relaxes again. I think she expected to be scolded? “First, breathe in. Yes, good, just like that. Hold your breath and count to three in your head. One, two and three.” I speak, keeping my tone as steady and calm as possible. “Now let all of the air out and hold your breath again. Two, Two and Three.” I walk her through the breathing exercise that was taught to me to handle stress. “Let’s do that a few more times.” I encourage her, walking a little girl through something that was meant to steady a hunter like me mid-battle.

I feel my thoughts drift while mindlessly repeating the exercise with her several times. Why is it necessary to teach a young girl how to do something meant for people mid battle? Why is the world fucked up enough for that to be something that needs to be done? What happened to her in the first place? Why was she so close to the edge of the world?

I snap out of my thoughts when my mind registers that her breathing sounds much steadier after the third repetition. “Morana” I say a single word to the girl’s utter confusion. She pushes away from me and I let her go. Her expression is complicated and her face is red and messy from crying, but soon she understands and smiles a little bit.

“That’s your name, right?” She asks me and I nod before pointing to her. “And you’re Malinka now. Which means Raspberry, or Little One in my language.” She mutters her name to herself a few times, as if testing it, to see if she likes it. A moment later she gives me the happiest smile yet. “Hi Morana! I’m Malinka!”

And my heart melts.