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Asha’s Refuge sprawled haphazardly from Chairo’s southern walls, dominated by a jumble of rough and mismatched canopies stretched in uneven rows. Stitched together from scavenged materials, the tents often sagged with despair, their strange colors further contrasting with the flaky dust that coated everything. While the surrounding land appeared fertile, the ground beneath the camp had turned a sickly beige, trampled into a slimy lifelessness by the constant footfall of hybrid pilgrims, their presence seemingly draining the very soil itself. A scent of decay lingered in the air, though it was clear the inhabitants had done their best to keep the area as clean as possible, with a large trash pile maintained off in the distance.

Roderic gestured toward one of the few large tents with an elevated wooden base and frame. “We store dry goods here.”

“Got it,” I replied as I started to unload the cart.

Given the current circumstances, Roderic had advised against revealing my identity to the group at large. Aleph and Father Titus had taken the lead during our visit, and I was more than happy to focus on more menial tasks, once again hidden beneath layers of cloth.

“You’re awfully tall for a human, ain’t ya?” a young girl inquired from around a dark corner inside the tent.

“So I’ve been told,” I answered, trying to get a look at the young sneak hiding in the storage area.

“You won’t ever find me looking down at the ground like that,” she giggled. “I’m a ninja!”

“Is that so?” I stepped farther into the tent. “Where are you from, ninja?”

“Here!” She giggled again, and I realized her voice came from above me. “Born and raised.”

Raised? She was hardly even school-aged…

“What are you doing hanging up in the rafters like that? You could fall!”

“No chance. I have perfect balance!” To prove her point, she turned on the thin beam and wiggled her butt at me.

A monkey tail!

“Pfft… You still haven’t told me what you’re doing up there,” I remarked, trying to ignore her ridiculous but funny dance.

“Roderic said I shouldn’t talk to strangers.”

“You started it, though! I'd have never known you were even there if you hadn’t spoken first.”

The girl laughed again and dropped down gracefully in front of me. “Let’s see…” She stood on her tiptoes, swiftly grasped my arm, and pulled me down to her level to get a better look at my face. “Clear skin… Early twenties… Armor under the cloak and a blessed sword at the side… A regular holy knight? But you have golden eyes, too.”

You’re a little too observant! And lucky I didn’t fight back…

I pulled my arm out of her grip and increased the distance between us. “That’s just a trick of the light…”

“You’re a bad liar, Captain.”

What I wouldn't give for a good poker face. “What’s your silence going to cost me?”

Her eyes sparkled dangerously. “You know Father Titus?”

“A little…”

“I turn six next week. Tell him that Kiko’s Purpose is to be… a ninja!”

“And you’re Kiko, I assume?”

“Not yet. That’s my new name.”

I frowned. “What’s your name now?”

She folded her arms and shook her head, her tail counterbalancing her movements. “Can’t tell you. Just say the beautiful monkey girl. He’ll know who you mean.”

“And just what do your parents think about you becoming a ninja?” I asked, certain they’d object.

“Doesn’t matter; they’re long dead. As soon as I’m old enough, I’m going to join the Red Monkeys! Wait… Laverna’s here with you, isn’t she!? New price: you have to introduce her to me, too!”

I froze, taking a moment to digest everything she just said. “Who’s your guardian?”

“We all look after each other. But that’s not important. Let me meet Laverna! I’m sure I would get in if she saw my skills…”

I waved my hand in objection. “She didn’t come today. She’s on a priority mission.”

Her eyes widened. “What is it?”

“It’s top secret,” I whispered. “All priority missions are.”

She stared at me for a moment, twirling her finger in a thick lock of brown, curly hair. “Hmm…”

For some reason, I found her dark gaze quite piercing. “I’m not lying, you know!” Vernie was, in fact, off to the Periphery to make sure the right people found the research article disproving hybrids produced more animus than humans.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“I know… Just wondering if I can make you talk more…”

Okay, enough is enough. “If you think I’m going to be threatened by a tiny pipsqueak of a—”

“What’s taking you so long to unload the cart?” Roderic asked loudly from behind, causing me to jump.

“Hello, sir,” the girl greeted him calmly as she flashed him her most winsome smile, her arms crossed behind her in a faux display of young innocence.

Roderic raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you on laundry duty this morning?”

“I am,” she replied with a giggle. “But there are so many curious things going on around here this morning… Isn’t it my duty to keep my eyes and ears open and say something when I need to?”

She was the very opposite of 'see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil!'

He sighed deeply as he rubbed at both of his temples. “Double rations for lunch if you leave, now.”

She smiled at me mischievously before sprinting off on all fours. “Don’t forget our deal, human!”

“My son was supposed to keep her busy…” Roderic sighed again. “The girl has a sixth sense for chaos.”

I continued to empty the cart. “She’s quite the opportunist, isn’t she? I think I really will tell Vernie about her. If for no other reason than to think of a way to keep her out of trouble long enough for her to have a chance to grow up.”

“I’d certainly take any pointers…” Roderic agreed.

You'll note I dutifully refrained from saying it was his circus and his monkey.

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I’d rather not wax melancholic about all the terrible outcomes of lacking basic needs. If you’ve managed to hang on this far, then you’re well aware that these people literally lived on the fringe of society. Hundreds of them were in the encampment, young and old, and many were sick, although they tried their best to hide it. However, physical illnesses weren’t the only afflictions, either.

“Injuries… Wounds… These I can handle,” Father Titus explained as he concentrated on the arm of a young woman who had burned herself pouring water from a rusted kettle. “But chronic diseases are beyond me, and illnesses of the mind, well…”

I glanced at the nearby teenage boy Father Titus was referencing. He had a full mane and horse ears and was wholly engrossed in staring off into the distance despite the flurry of activity around him. “He doesn’t ever respond?”

“He eats and sleeps… but, besides that, he just looks to the east. We think he’s watching for his parents, but…”

“What’s his name?” I asked Roderic.

“Well, we call him Ira.”

Burning tears suddenly stung my eyes. “Could you just try to help him anyway?”

Father Titus agreed, but his face was hopeless, as if he had already written off the boy’s fate. “May Euphridia bless you,” he murmured hesitantly, putting a nervous hand on the boy's shoulder.

What a half-hearted attempt to communicate… It’s not like he’s contagious!

The boy ignored him, stepping around him so he could gaze uninterrupted into the distance.

“You have to do it with more conviction! Not just for him, but for yourself too. Believe that you can make a difference, and he might start to believe it, too!”

Several people turned at my loud shout, and I felt an embarrassed flush across my cheeks.

“I mean… I know you can do it!” I punched Father Titus on the shoulder for further encouragement, a little spark passing between us.

He flinched and gasped, “What did you just…” He stopped and turned as if inspired, suddenly embracing the boy. “Please, Euphridia, blessed be, help us reach out to Ira!”

Huh… That’s a little more direct than a vague blessing, isn’t it?

“It’s Amil,” the boy croaked disgustedly in a thick, raspy voice, pushing him away.

Maybe that’s why he wasn’t talking – they were using the wrong Name!

I wasn’t the only one to gasp at his reaction. “You did it,” I cheered softly to Father Titus after he fell back in awe. However, several people gathered around Amil to ask him further questions, and he began to back away, hissing and spitting fitfully.

“Don’t crowd him. Give him space,” I found myself saying. “It’s important that he feels safe; right now, this is all too much for him.”

The crowd withdrew, though their murmurs of disbelief continued.

“At least we know he can understand us,” Roderic noted quietly. “Perhaps we can try talking with him a little more often...”

“I’d take it slow. Any progress with communication is good. But listen to what he isn’t saying, too. Body language is…” I paused, realizing I was almost lecturing on the subject. “Uh. I should be clear that I’m not an expert on trauma-informed care, just someone who appreciates it when others attempt it—in good faith.”

It’s those who wield it like a weapon that you have to watch out for. They can be really insidious about it, too, what with the gaslighting and all. If anyone ever acts like they're the only one who can understand and protect you... just know they're not in it to help you but to control you.

“Trauma-informed care?” Father Titus stared at me as if I had three heads.

“You know…” I struggled. “When you focus on the physical and emotional safety of survivors? I mean, you’re doing it already here. I just used a fancy phrase for it.”

I want to be completely clear about that point. I wasn’t introducing anything new or other-worldly; these people were doing their best to care for each other even as they navigated their own trauma. It just so happened that we were trying something slightly different. There’s no single perfect person, process, or tool out there. That’s why, above all else, I recommend seeking a second opinion on matters when you’re just not sure things are going right. It’s okay to ask for help from others. Of course, it's easy to give advice; it's harder to incorporate it into your actions.

But I’m still working on it.

The woman who had just been healed aggressively tugged on Father Titus’s sleeve. “Just who is she, anyway?” she asked, pointing at me with an angry finger.

“Oh, just one of the holy knights I asked to accompany me.” He let out a high-pitched, awkward laugh that threatened the quasi-truth in his statement.

“Just a knight, huh?” the woman questioned petulantly. “I heard priests and knights get along very well together.”

I silently swore to keep an increased distance from him throughout the remainder of our visit as Father Titus cleared his throat several times. “I beg you,” he pleaded. “Do not spread false rumors… our relationship is purely professional.”

The woman eyed him for a moment, then smiled at him warmly. “Then… You’re not off the market yet?”

Father Titus turned red. “Ma’am…”

“Come back again soon, Father!” she called as Roderic, sensing shenanigans, dragged us on our way. “I wish to repay your blessings. My tent’s the one with the red and white patchwork. You can’t miss it!”

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Post Chapter Omake:

Nora: For this chapter title... You could make a pun about tails.

Rae: You mean, like, 'Tails from the Fringe'?

Nora: Uh huh. Monkey butts and all.

Rae: I thought about it, but... the serious tone towards the end makes it a little, you know...

Nora: Got it. We'll just add the consideration in a Post Chapter Omake.

Rae: Um, what happens when you break the fourth wall by referencing you're going to break the fourth wall?

Nora: I assume it's like dividing by zero; why?

Rae: Just worried about future consequences...

Nora: That's for our future selves to handle. It's not like they can do anything to us about it now!

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