Days passed.
Zen continued to live in the hidden cave, wrapped in leaves, warming himself with flickering firelight and surviving on the food Mira brought. He didn't speak much, but every day he came closer to the cave's entrance, watching Mira with eyes that slowly lost their fear and grew curious soft.
Then, one day, something changed.
The sun had just peeked through the trees when Mira arrived with a woven basket of fruits and a wide grin.
"Zen! You won't believe it I chased a squirrel for five minutes today! He stole a whole peach from the cart! My father will be furious when he finds out I brought one less again."
She laughed at herself and sat in her usual spot beside the cave.
Zen stepped out.
Not just to the edge but fully into the clearing.
Mira turned, and her breath caught in her throat. It was the first time she had seen him in full daylight.
His body was small, thin, and still bruised from days of cold and wounds that hadn't fully healed. But his eyes wide and heavy with something too deep for a five-year-old looked straight at her.
Then, without a word, Zen dropped the apple he'd been holding… and ran to her.
He threw his arms around her waist and clung tightly.
And then he broke.
Zen cried. Not the soft tears of hunger or tiredness. But deep, broken sobs that came from somewhere buried inside his tiny chest. His whole body shook. His fists curled tightly into Mira's dress as if letting go would destroy him.
"I… I'm sorry," he choked out. "I… I couldn't save them… Mama… Papa…"
Mira's eyes flooded with tears as she knelt and wrapped her arms around him.
She didn't say anything just held him.
The two of them knelt on the mossy ground, Zen sobbing into her shoulder, Mira gently rocking him like a mother would a child, even though she was just ten herself.
"It's okay," she whispered. "I'm here now. You're not alone anymore…"
She felt the pain in his cries, the weight of nights alone in the dark, the cold, the fear, the hunger and the crushing loss.
Her own tears fell into his tangled hair.
After what felt like forever, Zen's sobs slowly turned to quiet hiccups. He didn't lift his face. He just rested there, breathing unevenly, his small hands still gripping her tightly.
That's when Mira made a decision.
She gently pulled away and looked into his tear-soaked eyes.
"Zen… come with me," she said softly. "You don't have to stay in this forest anymore. You can live with me. My father and I - we don't have much, but… we'll take care of you."
Zen blinked. His lips parted, but no words came.
Mira smiled, brushing the dirt from his cheek. "There's a village not far from here. It's called Virellia. It's a small town near the edge of the nation of Kaelora. My father has a fruit stall there. He works every day in the market square."
Zen looked unsure, but Mira reached for his hand and squeezed it gently.
"He doesn't know I come here," she admitted. "He thinks I'm just gathering herbs near the garden. But… I'll talk to him. I promise."
That evening, in Virellia…
The village was modest houses made of stone and wood, with small clay chimneys and hanging lanterns lining the cobbled streets. The city of Kaelora was far more bustling, but Virellia had its quiet charm.
Mira walked through the narrow streets, leading Zen by the hand. He wore one of her old cloaks to stay warm, and his eyes darted nervously at every sound.
They reached a small fruit shop near the market's edge its wooden sign read "Merrin's Orchard Goods".
Inside, a tall, weary-looking man was organizing crates of apples and plums.
"Papa," Mira called out, standing straight.
Her father looked up, surprised. "Mira? You're late again where were you this time? I needed help stacking—"
"I have something important to tell you," she interrupted.
He frowned, then noticed the small figure behind her.
"Who's this?" he asked, wiping his hands on a cloth.
Mira took a deep breath.
"His name is Zen," she said gently. "He… he lost everything. His family. His home. I found him alone in the forest. He's been living in a cave. He has no one else."
Her father stared at the boy, then at her.
"Mira… what are you talking about? Why were you in the forest? That's dangerous—"
"I know. But I couldn't leave him," she said, her voice trembling. "He needs us, Papa."
Her father sighed, rubbing his brow. "Mira, we barely have enough food for the two of us. We can't just—"
"He's just a child!" she cried. "He's scared. And alone. Just like I was when Mama died…"
Her father paused. The memory struck him hard. Mira had once been a quiet, broken girl too after her mother's passing.
His gaze shifted to Zen again, who stood silently, head bowed, fingers gripping Mira's cloak.
The man sighed.
"…He can stay," he said at last.
Mira's eyes lit up. "Really?!"
"But," he added sternly, "he helps around the stall. He earns his keep, same as us."
Mira nodded quickly. "Of course!"
Zen looked up at the man… and for the first time, he felt something stir again inside his chest.
A small flicker.
Maybe…
Just maybe…
He could belong here.