Alice woke up to the same ringing noise from the night before making her brain bounce around in her skull. Whether it was because she was sleeping this time around or another reason, it was even more painful than before. Alice bolted up, hand flying to her ears and bringing her legs up to her chest in knee-jerk reaction. It was like someone was taking two steel rods and trying their best to slide it through her ears.
The noise couldn’t end soon enough. Alice pulled her arms down, her head ringing from the abrupt awakening. By now, it was obvious the noise rang whenever it was time to sleep or when it was time to wake up. Alice figured that was one way to make sure everybody had the same sleep schedule. How would implementing the system into her own village work? The children and adults had vastly different ‘curfews’ after all. . . .
“She’s awake!” a bright voice chirped. Alice was broken from her musing as she looked to the doorway where the noise had originated from. One of the children was standing there, gazing at Alice like she was an exotic creature. Alice waved back meagerly, studying the kid’s ears. They didn’t differ from human ears appearance-wise, but there was definitely something that allowed them to withstand such noise on a daily basis.
“Oh, is she?” Tamara’s voice carried over from the other room. “Tell her to hurry up, she’s late. Just as lazy as Blanche, hmm.”
The kid nodded. “Tamara said to—“
“I got it, thanks,” Alice murmured, getting to her feet. Walking to the doorway and glancing at the kid’s energetic face, she remembered. Right. These kids…they’re cursed. How can somebody curse an innocent child?
For a brief moment, grief overwhelmed Alice and a whim struck her. Reaching down, she ruffled the kid’s hair just like Charlotte used to do, eliciting an excited shriek. A small smile formed on Alice’s face before she passed through the tassels.
When she’d entered the hut yesterday, the sun had been fading fast and night was approaching. Along with the fact that throughout her whole time here in the village, Alice had never seen a candle or another light source, it had been difficult for her to see her surroundings.
Now that sunlight streamed through a huge hole formed in lieu of a ceiling, Alice saw that the hut was much larger than she’d anticipated, easily large enough to contain a dozen kids. The room was split down the middle, with one side belonging to the children while the other doubled as Tamara’s personal office and a kitchen. Tamara was stationed behind a heavy weight desk, holding a pan; something was sizzling, and the fragrant smell wafting through the air was to die for.
“Play with the children, make them wash their hands,” Tamara ordered, not bothering to look back.
Alice nodded. “Okay,” she said, heading over to where the children were piling on top of one another. Stopping in front of them, she waited for them to recognize her presence.
It only took a few seconds before one of the kids yelled, “Apprentice!” Then the rest were crawling towards her, grabbing onto her pants. This time, Alice was better prepared. Fighting the instinct to kick her legs, Alice instead clapped her hands.
“Where’s the water?” she asked. One of them—Lilah, if she remembered correctly—dragged over a bucket of water. Alice thanked her and the young dwarf shook her head before slinking back to her quiet sigil in the corner. Following Lilah’s path for a bit, Alice turned her attention on the water and scrunched her nose.
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A sickening green tint shone in the liquid, and Alice had doubts as to whether it was beneficial to wash their hands with this. Before she could think of a better alternative, one of the children shoved their hands into the bucket, splashing water everywhere.
Then it was an all out war as Alice lunged for the bucket, barely managing to stabilize it in time before all the other children started slamming their hands into the bucket.
By the time they were done, Alice had been thoroughly drenched. A bit of it had inevitably slipped into her mouth and to her surprise, it didn’t taste half bad. In fact, it was purer than the water her village got from the well, with none of the metal and dirt undertaste. Alice scratched it up to another example of the dwarf’s different culture, but a tiny ball of disappointment formed in her stomach. Why did her village seem so behind in comparison?
“All done!” Tamara announced, and Alice didn’t have any more time to ruminate as she was forced to cajole all the children to sit at the table.
Breakfast was a quiet affair, the children too busy stuffing their face to make much noise. For a while, the air was filled with the sound of plates clattering against fingers and bread being crunched. Alice scooped some soup into her mouth, barely registering the flavor all while observing the faces of the children around the table.
They were all so happy, splashes of food splattering on their faces and cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk. If Alice hadn’t seen the explicit message, she would have written this off as a happy family and gone on her way.
Alice bit into a loaf of bread, shifting her gaze to Tamara. In the midst of the chaos, she was eating diligently and elegantly, each movement precise. What was her secret? Why did she have so many children in this small hut?
The moment the last child was done, they were off again. They split off into little groups, some deciding to take pieces of paper and draw, while others started playing with blocks, stacking them up high before somebody ended up knocking them over. Alice sighed as a small scuffle broke out, wondering if she should intervene before somebody got hurt.
“Don’t bother with them, and help me with the plates if you’ve got time,” Tamara said in a snippy tone. Knowing better than to argue, Alice complied, stacking the plates on top of each other and carefully making her way into the kitchen. The two of them worked in silence for a while, as Tamara dunked the plates into a bucket before handing it to Alice, who placed it into another pile.
“You know, the children here. . .they’re really good,” Tamara began. Alice looked to her, startled that she was striking up conversation but Tamara adamantly focused on her hands scouring the plates clean of any grime. “A lot of the dwarves don’t see that. . .they look at the children and see their flaws and it makes them uncomfortable.”
Alice nodded along, unsure where Tamara was heading with this. A thought occurred to Alice, and the back of her neck prickled in response; was this why Lilah had been so desperate to answer Tamara’s questions yesterday? Because everybody else in the village ostracized her and the other children? The sight of their terrified faces when she’d barged in flashed before her eyes, and Alice grimaced. Had she done the same to them?
“The children under my care are orphans,” Tamara said. Alice nodded dully. She’d figured as much.
“Their parents all died in tragic accidents or skirmishes outside the village. They had nowhere else to go, so I decided to take them in.” Tamara chuckled bitterly, clenching a plate tightly. “It was only supposed to be one at first but it kept on happening, and nobody helped.”
Alice stared at the hairline cracks that were spreading across the plate like a spiderweb. Her heart went out for the old woman; how much of her life had she dedicated to protecting these children because nobody else was willing to? It was times like these that Alice forgot the things she took for granted in her old life had never existed in this world. Tamara’s hut could very well be the first orphanage the dwarves had ever seen.
Alice placed a plate onto the pile a tad harshly. So, that was the reason why the System called the children ‘cursed.’ Their parents had been killed, and instead of being treated with the kindness they deserved, they were handed off to a lone dwarf. No support, no money, no love.
This world…can really be cruel sometimes