A boy sits on the corner of a grime and filth covered pathway. His tiny and malnourished frame dressed with stained rags of sown together burlap. Unkempt and shaggy hair hide the emotionless eyes on his meager face. The small figure sits in shadow, where light struggles to weasel a path through the canopy of patchwork housing and clothes drying on wires like cobwebs. Scarcely an eye notices the child, while the few that do give him nothing still, for there is nothing to give.

He has not eaten for several days now and his lips are cracked dry. His father, Dalder, has fallen into a deep state of grief after his wife passed and tried to quench his thirst with booze and moonshine. What semblance of stability existed has now evaporated like liquor under the blazing sun, angering the man and leaving his child a beggar.

Yet while the mother is gone, as if she came back from the dead, a slender hand pushed the boy’s hair out his eyes and reached for him. The boy looks up and rays of light blind him as he squints to look at the smiling face. He sees her large green eyes and tiny nose, a few strands of hair elegantly hang loose.

“Come now,” she says, “this is no place for children to sit!” as she hoists the boy on his feet and wipes off some of the gathered dust clinging to his clothes.

“What is your name, child?”, she finally asks. “You can call me Cefre.”

With a hoarse voice, he responds. “Hayes…”

“Well then, Hayes, would you like something to eat and drink?”

Hayes nods and is promptly hurried along by Cefre.

“You know the way around these parts?” Cefre asks as they pace through the maze of pathways.

“Yes m’am,” he replied, “I play around here.”

Cefre glanced back and smiled. “That’s good. Not far now till we reach my shop.”

As the pair made their way through the entanglement of pathways, Hayes looked up at Cefre and wondered why she chose him. He has nothing to give, nothing to live for, so why? Yet he can not find the courage to ask her directly, or perhaps he is afraid a chance for a better life would slip from his fingers.

Some ten minutes more they make their way through the darkened alleyways to the east. Sections of the great looming rampart encircling Alomore flicker in and out of view through the buildings, casting a blanket of darkness over all its surroundings before the sun is at its highest.

“Like pigs in a pigsty, aren't we?” Remarks Cefre. “I'm sure those walls were never meant to keep anyone out. No, it's just to keep us feeling small and powerless, rotting away on these muddy alleyways.” She turns to Hayes, “But I'll tell you what. Alone we may be powerless, but together? That's when we can get somewhere. Somewhere pleasant, where the air doesn't smell of sewage and vermin remnants. And children should not be at the forefront of poverty,” she said with a hint of anger.

Finally Cefre and Hayes come to a halt near the edge of the rampart. A pleasant smell drifts in the air, like a perfume masking the stench of a decaying waste. It is an odd sensation; the most pleasant smell one can usually find is the smell of ale from the local tavern. Instead, the scent of freshly baked bread, cinnamon and forest herbs fills Hayes’ nostrils as his stomach growls.

The well-kept storefront displays all manner of bread and pastries freshly baked this morning. A large sign hangs over the entirety of the display with “Born and Bread” written on it in beautiful lettering.

The door to the bakery opens and a man appears in its portal. He is of fairly bulky build, his belly large enough to leave his apron dangling in front of his legs. Thick sideburns cover the sides of his face and his hair is slicked back into a small ponytail. He looks at Hayes, crouches down, and gives him a warm smile which Hayes attempts to return.

“Who’s this little fella, dear?” he asks as he turns his attention to Cefre.

“His name’s Hayes, but you’re going to have a hard time hearing me over his stomach if we keep it waiting for much longer!” Cefre replies, as she nudges Hayes forward.

The man stands up and makes a welcoming gesture. “Come on in, I’ve got just the thing.”

Hayes hesitates for a second, then passes the man in the portal and enters the bakery with Cefre following close behind. If it's a trap, then maybe he'll at least be fed scraps instead of starving on the street.

The interior is simple but well kept. A couple of patrons browse the various loaves on display as the man that welcomed Hayes retakes his place behind the counter.

Cefre continues to a door on the far side of the shop. As she opens it, the faint sound of children playing and talking could be heard. She briefly turns and shoots a smile at Hayes before disappearing to the other side.

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"Another fortunate soul made its way to you, didn't he, Robbert?" The male patron says as he looks to Hayes.

"So he has, and I am grateful to my lovely wife for finding him." He says warmly as he slices off a piece of nut enriched bread, which he then hands to Hayes. "Here you go lad, this'll do you good."

He smells the piece of bread and his hunger suddenly increases threefold as he devours the chewy slice.

Robbert smiles, nods, and gives Hayes a soft pat on the back. He then returns to the counter and pours a mug of fresh milk as Hayes erupts in a coughing fit.

"Now, now, I know it's hard, but you've got to take your time. Come and sit here," as he leads Hayes to a chair and small table near the edge of the wall. He puts the mug of milk in Hayes' hand.

Hayes quickly takes a big gulp of milk, dislodging some of the bread stuck in his throat.

"Thank y-"

"Oh, don't mention it!" Robbert quickly interjects. "Just relax and enjoy your stay, you are always welcome from now. My wife and I will make sure you're fed and clothed whenever you'd like! Honest, do not worry about it, come to us whenever you need something. Got a spare room for you if you'd like, too."

Hayes nods and continues to bite off chunks, albeit with less fervor than before, washing it away with milk. He finishes his meal while observing Robbert interacting with his patrols. He seems well liked and respected which makes sense considering how the couple seemingly help children like himself. A soft glow grows in his chest, maybe he should take them up on their offer.

Soon enough Cefre appears in the doorway she entered previously and gestures for Hayes to come to her.

"Follow me, let's clean you up a bit. I've prepared a bath and fresh clothes for you."

"Okay." He replies and follows her.

Once again, the voices of children get louder. As they enter the hallway, it becomes clear the children are on the far side door, however Cefre leads him to the upwards stairs on the right. A long stretch of hallway is lined with doors all the way over the shop below. The rightmost door is ajar and a smell of soap comes from the room.

"Here we are. Take your time, there's clothes on a stool next to the bath. I think I've got your size right, but just give a shout if not, I'll be right there!" she says enthusiastically as she swings the door open.

Hayes entered the room. "Thank you… And when I'm done?" He asks.

"Oh, just leave your clothes on the floor, I'll wash them. You can come see me downstairs, you heard the other voices, right?"

Hayes nods.

Cefre smiles and reaches for the door handle and closes it.

Hayes stands there for a while. The morning has come and gone so fast, from hopelessly sitting on the corner of a street to being offered a bath, clothes and even a place to stay. But he stopped himself. Can these people really be trusted? Who has such generosity in this place of poverty? And why did she even pick him in the first place?

He pondered but could not find the answers. "No use thinking about it now…" he sighs to himself as he gets ready to get into the bath. His feet touch the pleasantly warm water and he lets himself sink further into the tub.

He closes his eyes and removes all thoughts from his head. The tenseness in his body slowly releases its firm grasp, and he drifts off, sinking further into the tub until he enters a coughing fit as water fills his nasal cavity. Quickly he raises himself to an upright position and blows his nose, wriggling it with his hand. He sighs and catches his breath, now wide awake.

After scrubbing his body with a sponge, he gets out, dries himself, and puts on the clothes Cefre left for him on the stool. Though they’re nothing too special, the cloth seems of decent quality and newly made to boot. Somehow she managed to get Hayes’ size perfect as well, as if they were made for him.

With slight hesitation in his step, Hayes descends the stairs and approaches the door which muffles a range of voices. After a deep breath, the door opens with a creak.

An alcove reveals itself. Tables and benches surround an open area where children of varying ages play. The floor is clean and dry, the walls shining with bright colors and drawings. Is this really here in Alomore? Hayes thought to himself.

Cefre stands up from her chair and claps her hands together. The children stop playing and look at Cefre.

“I have something to tell you all,” she stretches her hand out to Hayes and says with a smile, “this is Hayes, he'll be joining you!”

The children run and circle Hayes like vultures, barraging him with questions.

“How old are you?”, asks one.

“You're skinny,” says a younger child.

“Do you want to play football with me?” another inquires.

Cefre interrupts the assault, “That's enough for now, give him some space. I hope you'll find good friends here, Hayes.”

She turns to the children, “Now, how about we have a nice welcoming lunch for our new friend?”

The children yell in excitement, followed by several wishes and predictions for what will be served. Once everyone sits, a beef stew is served. It's a luxury to have meat in your bowl around these parts. As they eat, Cefre encourages Hayes to talk to the other kids and ask for their experiences here, to which only glowing responses come.

“Cefre…”, Hayes starts as he works up the courage and splutters, “what do-, why did you take me? Why not any of the other kids, my friends for example?”

“It's simple, really,” she declared, “I go on a lot of errands. I've seen you sitting on different street corners, sometimes playing with friends, other times bruised. Your friends; I've seen them steal and fight. But you, never have I seen that from you. Maybe I'm wrong, but I couldn't forgive myself if I let you go the wrong way, too. I think you'll grow up to be a fine man, given the chance. And I want to give you that chance.”

Hayes hesitates in his response, “Thank you, I think, maybe I will visit sometimes.”

“You’re welcome any time,” she smiled.