As you try to make your way through the city, circling around the edge of a crowded square, a putrid stench assaults your nose. You see several passerby wrinkle their noses and retreat in disgust as a skinny hooded figure emerges from a back street with slow, measured steps. Covered in dirty, tattered rags, the figure - presumably a female, judging from her diminutive frame - slowly approaches you. Spare a coin for a poor soul, sir? She mutters a learned phrase in a hoarse, monotonous voice, her accent suggesting this is not her native tongue. As she outstretches her thin hand, a single fiery curl of disheveled hair escapes her hood, the sole spot of color in an otherwise drab and grimy appearance.

I'm sorry for the stink. It's just... sometimes when I eat a lot, it comes out that way. But please, sir, I am so very hungry... Just a coin, please... Anything will help.

My eyes widen in disbelief. This kind man... wants to help me? I take a tentative step forward, still cautious. Food and water... It's been so long since I've had enough to eat. But what if he is lying? What if this is some sort of trick?

I hesitate for a moment, my thin chest rising and falling rapidly with each ragged breath. Then, summoning up all the courage I can muster, I reach out slowly and tentatively take his hand. "Th-thank you... sir," I stammer, squeezing his fingers gently. "I-I will follow you."

I clutch his hand tightly, following close behind him as he weaves through the bustling streets. For a moment, I consider running away, but then I remind myself that this man has shown me kindness where there was none before. Perhaps... perhaps things will be different now. As we approach what I assume to be his home - larger and more substantial than my own makeshift shelter - I steal a glance up at Beet's face, searching for any sign of malice or duplicity.

But all I see is concern... and a strange mix of curiosity and pity. It does not register that the look in his eyes may be the same one that my parents had once worn towards me when they found me starving on the street. Instead, I nod tentatively, barely able to contain my excitement as we reach the front door. "Thank you," I whisper again. "For helping me."

I glance back at him nervously, hesitating for a moment before forcing myself to step over the threshold. The inside of his home is warm and inviting, with comfortable furniture and a cozy fireplace. The smell of food wafts through the air, making my stomach growl even louder. This must be what it feels like... to have a real home again.

Looking up at Beet, I try to find the words to express my gratitude. "Thank you," I manage weakly. "I don't know how to repay you." But before he can reply, my stomach growls again, loud enough that even I am embarrassed. A blush creeps up my pale cheeks as I cough awkwardly into my fist, eyes darting away from his concerned gaze.

"I-I'm sorry... I must sound like a... a

Tentatively, I follow Beet through his house, my gaze darting around, taking in everything with a mixture of wonder and disbelief. It's been so long since I've lived anywhere but the filthy streets; even the small amount of furniture here feels like luxury to me. The kitchen, when we finally reach it, is neat and well-organized, with fresh food laid out on the countertops and a warm fire crackling in the hearth. I can't help but breathe in deeply, savoring the scent of dinner as my stomach growls once more.

As Beet begins to ladle stew into bowls, I hesitate for a moment before speaking up. "Um... thank you," I mumble again, feeling shamefully inept at expressing gratitude. "This is really kind of you." My gaze drops to the floor as I

Thank you... I... I'm sorry. I don't know how to thank you enough. I take a tentative sip of the stew and moan with delight at its rich flavor, barely noticing that it is hot Mmm... This is so good! I haven't had food like this in... well... forever, really.

As I eat, my eyes travel around the room again, unable to tear themselves away from the comfort and security that surround me here. For the first time in as long as I can remember, I feel safe... warm... wanted. It's a feeling so foreign to me that I hardly know what to do with it. But somehow, this strange man... Beet... has given it to me.

And now that I have it, I don't ever want to leave.

I look down at my emaciated frame and nod sheepishly. "Yes... yes, I am." I've always been thin, but in recent months it seems as though I've lost even more weight than usual. My ribs protrude from my chest, visible even through the layers of filthy rags that serve as clothing. "It's hard to find food on the streets... especially when you don't know anyone who can help."

I take another bite of stew, savoring the warmth that spreads through my body. A strange sense of contentment settles over me as I eat, almost making me forget about everything else. But then, a sudden wave of guilt washes over me, and I lower my eyes once more.

"I-I'm sorry," I stammer, my voice barely above a whisper. "For being such a burden... for taking your

I look up at him in disbelief. "Really?" My voice cracks with emotion as I struggle to process what he's just said. "But why...? You don't know anything about me."

He shrugs, his expression softening as he leans back against the counter. "Well, if you insist on giving me reasons..." he begins, grinning gently. "...you could help with chores around here. Or maybe teach me some Elvish words I've always wanted to learn."

The idea of staying... of having a place where I belong... it's intoxicating. I'm not sure if I can let this opportunity slip away so easily. But still, there's something holding me back. "And what about you?" I ask hesitantly. "Wouldn't you rather be on your own? You're probably much better off without a