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.

The dirty figure visibly shrinks away as you speak, and she huddles in on herself, trying to become smaller and less visible. "P-pardon, sire... I didn't mean to offend," she stammers weakly, her voice barely audible above the din of the marketplace. She draws her hand back, fingers curled protectively around empty air. Tears begin to well in her green eyes as they dart nervously about, searching for an escape from your harsh words.

"I-if I may," she finally manages to whisper, "perhaps you would find it... kinder... to offer a coin for a meal?" Her pleading tone betrays the years of hardship etched into her fragile features. The hopelessness in her gaze is heartbreaking as she cautiously holds out her hand once more, trembling slightly.

You see the girl's eyes light up with hope and relief as you hand her a coin. She carefully takes it between two fingers, like it might burn, before clutching it tightly to her breast. There's a brief flash of unfamiliar emotion - gratitude? - on her pale face before she looks down, embarrassed. "T-th-thank you," she stutters. Her voice still hoarse and weak, yet carrying an almost inaudible note of warmth that was absent moments ago.

With another nervous glance around, she slips away into the crowd, her small frame all but disappearing amidst the bustle of the marketplace. A moment later, you see her duck into a nearby alleyway and out of sight. The weight of her presence no longer presses on your consciousness as you continue your journey through the city.

As the hooded figure shuffles through the market once more, her gaze darts this way and that, scanning for anything edible. At the sight of you approaching, she hesitates for a moment before mustering up enough courage to speak. "G-good morning," she whispers hoarsely, head bowed in deference. Her eyes flicker nervously from side to side as if expecting you to reprimand her for daring to address you first.

Her thin frame is wrapped in filthy rags, and there's a haunted look in her emerald green eyes that speaks of a life spent constantly on edge, always wary of the next threat. Even so, she manages a small, shy smile when she sees that you carry nothing but a kind expression.

The figure freezes, confusion and fear flashing across her freckled face. She opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out as she desperately tries to understand what you mean. Finally, her voice quivers, "I-I'm sorry if I've done something wrong...?" Her gaze drops once more, and she shuffles a step backward, as if preparing to flee.

Her body is tense, every muscle ready for flight or fight. Even with her heightened senses and agility as an elf, she knows that her chances of surviving on the streets are slim when dealing with the humans who have made their lives so difficult. The thought of losing someone who has shown her kindness fills her with dread.

The homeless girl named Cibia looks confused and hurt by your words. "I-I just thought... since you were kind to me yesterday... maybe..." Her voice trails off, uncertainty and embarrassment evident in her expression. She tries to meet your gaze but can't quite manage it, instead fidgeting with the rags that cover her bony frame.

Her gaze flits towards the small pouch at your belt, hope flickering briefly in her eyes before she once again forces herself to look away, fearful of appearing too forward or greedy. The truth is, food has been so scarce lately that finding enough to keep going from one day to the next feels like an impossible task. A coin for some sustenance would mean the world to her right now... but she knows better than to ask.

Tears well up in her green eyes as she looks at you with disbelief and gratitude. "R-really? Y-you're not angry with me?" Her voice quivers, barely audible above the hubbub of the marketplace. She takes a hesitant step forward, careful not to get too close or seem imposing.

"I-if it pleases you, sir... I will go and find some food right away," she whispers gratefully, nodding her head slightly in thanks. "A-and I would be most appreciative if you would honor me with your presence again this afternoon." There's a brief flicker of hope in her expression as she glances at the coins in your hand, but she quickly school it away, afraid to look too eager or selfish.

"I-I can usually be found here," she says quietly, pointing vaguely towards a nearby

Cibia's eyes widen in surprise and relief at your words, and she quickly nods her head in acknowledgement, "T-thank you," she manages to whisper. She carefully takes the coins from your hand, her fingers barely brushing against yours before she hides them away inside her tattered clothes. "I won't disappoint you this time, sir," she promises earnestly, eyes shining with determination and gratitude. As you turn to leave, she bows her head in respect, the dirty hair around her face falling forward to hide her expression. Her small frame sags slightly, and for a moment it seems as if she might collapse under the weight of her own relief and gratitude. But then she straightens up, squaring her shoulders and mustering what little dignity remains to her, as she vows to find something nourishing with which to repay your kindness.

The afternoon sun hangs low in the sky as you make your way through the marketplace towards where you last saw Cibia earlier today. Her words and gratitude still echoing in your mind, you can't help but feel a twinge of curiosity about her story. The thought of offering further assistance crosses your mind briefly before being pushed aside by uncertainty and the knowledge that you have no way of truly helping her.

You spot her huddled against a crumbling stone wall, thin arms wrapped around her bony knees in a futile attempt to keep warm. Her attention is fixed on a small mound of discarded food scraps nearby; her gaze darting between the meager offering and you as if trying to decide whether or not she should approach. The air carries the scent of cooking meat from a nearby vendor's stall, and your stomach growls in anticipation even as guilt wracks

Cibia looks up at you with surprise, her green eyes widening slightly before narrowing in suspicion. She hesitates for a moment, clearly uncertain whether or not she should trust this kindness again. "My name is... Cibi," she finally manages to whisper, choosing the diminutive form of her given name as if it might make her seem less threatening or desperate. Her voice still carries the faint accent that marks her as an outsider in these lands; a reminder of all she's lost and left behind.

She nods towards the food scraps, unable to meet your gaze for long. "M-may I?" she asks softly, voice little more than a hoarse whisper. Her hands tremble visibly as they reach out towards the small pile of discarded edibles, longing plain on her dirty face. Even the thought of eating something so insignificant brings

Cibi listens intently to your words, her expression shifting between confusion and hope. She stares at you as if trying to decide whether or not she should believe you, before eventually nodding slowly in acceptance. "Th-thank you," she whispers, her voice barely audible above the bustle of the marketplace. Her gaze flickers briefly back towards the food scraps before returning to meet your eyes again. "T-they're... they're not poisoned or anything, are they?" There's a hint of desperation in her voice that tugs at your heartstrings.

She shuffles closer to you, cautiously, as if afraid that moving too quickly might scare you away and leave her starving once more. "Y-you don't need to buy me meat," she mutters, embarrassed by the suggestion of expense. "I d-don

"My name... It's an old family name, passed down through generations. My father chose it for me before he died... He was proud of our heritage," she explains slowly, a faraway look in her green eyes. "In my village, everyone knew each other and accepted one another, no matter our differences..." She trails off, the pain of loss etched deeply on her features.

"But here... they treat us differently. Like we don't belong," she whispers, eyes downcast once more. "I just wish things could be different... that I could find my place in this world again." Her voice trembles slightly as she speaks, and she forces herself to meet your gaze, daring to hope that perhaps you might offer some comfort or understanding.

Her body quivers slightly from the cold, and her lips are tinted blue despite the warmth of the day. The desperation in her eyes

"I-I am an elf," she whispers, fear and shame etching lines across her young face. "But I've lived among humans for most of my life... My parents thought it would be safer if we blended in." She gestures helplessly to herself, as if that might explain everything. "We didn't mean any harm... We just wanted to survive."

Her gaze drifts back towards the food scraps once more, and she licks her lips unconsciously, her stomach growling loudly in the silence between you. The thought of eating anything at all is a small comfort in this desperate situation, even if it means continuing to live as an outcast among her own kind.

"P-please," she stammers, "I-I'm s-so hungry... C-could you..." Her voice trails off, defeated,

Cibi hesitates a moment longer before slowly allowing you to guide her away from the marketplace and towards a nearby food stall. Her steps are tentative at first, as if she's not entirely sure what to make of your unexpected kindness. As the scent of cooking meat fills the air around them, hunger gnaws at her insides, making it difficult to focus on anything but satisfying her immediate needs.

"T-thank you," she manages to whisper between mouthfuls of meat, her voice muffled by the food in her mouth. The rich flavors bring tears of relief to her eyes as they spill down her dirty cheeks. She takes another bite, not trusting herself to speak any further just yet.

The warmth from the food spreads through her limbs, and for a brief moment, she feels almost human again. A faint flush creeps up her pale cheeks as

The sensation of being so ravenously hungry and yet not wanting to stop eating fills Cibi with shame, but she can't help it; her body needs this food. Every morsel tastes like heaven, every bite bringing her closer to the feeling of being full and warm and safe once more. Her fingers are sticky with grease as she shovels another piece of meat into her mouth, chewing eagerly despite her embarrassment.

When at last she can eat no more, she wipes her hands on her soiled clothes, sighing contentedly. The comforting weight in her stomach reminds her that for now, at least, she won't starve tonight. With a grateful nod, she looks up at you, eyes glistening with tears of gratitude. "T-thank you," she manages to whisper hoarsely around the remains of her meal.

"Ah... uh... I'm not quite sure," Cibi answers sheepishly, her brow furrowing in thought as she tries to remember. She looks away for a moment, lost in thought before slowly returning her gaze back to you. "I suppose I should be around 20 or so?" Her voice trails off at the end, unsure whether this estimation is even close to accurate anymore.

The admission of uncertainty only serves to emphasize how disconnected she feels from her past life; a life that once held such promise and certainty but now seems like nothing more than an impossible dream. She swallows hard, struggling against the weight of despair that threatens to overwhelm her again.

"J-job?" she repeats, confusion clouding her features. "I... I didn't think that was an option for someone like me," she says quietly, head bowed in resignation. "Even if I could find a job, how would I prove myself trustworthy? And who would hire an elf as dirty and poor as I am?" She lets out a shuddering sigh, her voice tinged with defeat. "It seems like no matter what I do, I'm trapped in this cycle of poverty and despair."

Cibi hesitates a moment before replying. "W-well, I'm... rather good with numbers and languages," she admits quietly. "My father was an accountant back in our village, so I inherited his skill with math. And as for languages..." She shrugs self-consciously. "Being part elf and growing up among humans, I learned both our tongues as well as a few others." Her eyes brighten briefly at the memory before dimming once more. "But here, it seems those skills aren't as valuable to people as... other things," she finishes bitterly.

Her shoulders slump under the weight of her defeat, and she stares miserably at her dirty hands, wondering what hope there might be for someone like her in a world that seems so intent on keeping her down.

Surprise flickers across her face at your offer, and she hesitates before speaking. "D-do you mean... as an employee?" she asks tentatively, hope springing up within her once more. The thought of having a purpose; something to do besides scrounge for food and fend off unwanted advances, is almost too much to bear.

"I... I would be grateful for the opportunity," she whispers, forcing herself to meet your gaze with a mixture of tentative confidence and pleading desperation. "I promise that if you give me a chance, I won't disappoint you."

Cibi's eyes widen at your offer, hope and disbelief warring across her features. "Y-you mean... you want me to live with you? W-work for you?" she stammers, voice barely above a whisper. She takes a hesitant step backward, uncertainty etched deeply on her young face. The thought of entering another human's home; of being under their roof and in their care is both terrifying and tantalizing.

But the desperation that has become so much a part of her life forces her to consider your offer more carefully. "I-if you are sure... I would be honored," she manages to whisper, her voice trembling with emotion. "And I promise that I will work hard and do my best for you."

She waits nervously for your reply, unsure of what the future holds but willing to grasp at any chance for a

"I-I can cook simple meals and keep a home clean," Cibi confirms, nodding slowly as she thinks back to her time helping her parents with such tasks in their village. "And I'm quick to learn new things, so if there are particular ways you prefer for things to be done... I'd be happy to adapt." Her voice quivers slightly, barely masking the fear that still clutches at her heart; the fear of trusting another person after all she's been through. But beneath the tremor, a glimmer of hope shines brightly; the possibility of having a place where she belongs and a purpose to wake up for each morning.

Cibi swallows hard, nodding solemnly in agreement. "I-I understand," she whispers, her voice little more than a hoarse croak from the effort of forcing out each word. Her hands fidget nervously at her sides, and her gaze drops to the ground as she tries to hide the mixture of hope and uncertainty that colors her features. She's aware that this arrangement may not be ideal; that it's far from the life she once dreamed of living. But in a world where she's faced nothing but cruelty and rejection, the promise of safety and a chance to make herself useful are too much to resist.

"T-thank you," she manages to choke out, her voice breaking on the final syllable as tears prick at the corners of her eyes. "I-I won't let you down."

Shaking off her nerves and fears, Cibi follows you as you lead her away from the marketplace and towards your home. Her heart pounds wildly in her chest, a mixture of anticipation and trepidation fueling her steps. Every sound, every movement feels significant; as if this moment marks the beginning of a new chapter in her life. She wipes furtive tears from her cheeks, determined not to let her emotions get the better of her now that she finally has a chance at something resembling stability and purpose.

As you approach your house, Cibi's eyes sweep over its appearance, taking note of its size and condition. She struggles to hide her astonishment; this place is far nicer than anything she's ever known. A shiver of excitement runs down her spine as she imagines what it might be like to live here, to call a home her own once more.

Cibi follows you silently through the house, her gaze darting this way and that as she takes in each new detail. When you lead her to what you say is her room, she feels a strange mix of joy and disbelief coursing through her veins. The space is more than generous; large enough for a proper bed and even a small table and chair. Compared to the cramped, filthy nooks she's been forced to sleep in lately, it feels like paradise.

With a trembling hand, she reaches out to touch the smooth wood of the bedframe, marveling at its softness and cleanliness. Even the air here smells fresher; as if possibility lingers in every breath she takes. She looks up at you through her lashes, uncertainty and gratitude warring for dominance on her face. "T-thank you," she whispers hoarsely

Surprised by your trust and generosity, Cibi's cheeks flush with an emotion she can only describe as hope. She nods solemnly, her eyes sparkling with determination. "I-I won't let you down," she says quietly, fighting back tears of relief and gratitude. "I'll take care of myself, make sure I look my best... and work hard to earn your trust." Her voice trembles slightly at the end, but there's an unmistakable resolve in her tone that speaks volumes about her newfound commitment to this arrangement.

With a deep breath, she turns towards her new room and begins exploring it further, already mentally rearranging her belongings and planning how she'll make it into a home. The weight of the world seems to have lifted from her shoulders, if only for now; replaced by an odd sense of peace and possibility that she

Thank you, Mohammed. I'll make sure to get some rest and start fresh tomorrow. I appreciate your trust and kindness, and I promise not to disappoint you.

Cibi nods eagerly, a small smile curling her lips. "Yes, Mohammed. I'll be your girl." There's a newfound light in her eyes as she says it; a sense of belonging and purpose that she hasn't felt in far too long. She can't wait to begin this new chapter in her life and prove herself worthy of the trust you've placed in her.

Thank you, Mohammed. I'll sleep well and be ready to start fresh in the morning. If you need anything, please don't hesitate to ask. Good night.

Cibi awakens to the sounds of morning birdsong and the smell of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the air. Her heart skips a beat as she recalls her situation and the promise of a new beginning it holds. Dressed in clean, comfortable clothes that she's washed and mended herself, she carefully makes her bed before heading to the kitchen to find Mohammed and begin her day.

The coffeepot sits steaming on the stove, its enticing aroma almost too much for her to bear. She pours herself a cup and takes a tentative sip, savoring the rich flavor as it dances across her tongue. Then, summoning up her courage, she searches for Mohammed and finds him in his study, poring over paperwork at his desk.

"Good morning, Mohammed," she says softly, offering him a cup of coffee.

Cibi blushes deeply at your compliment, her gaze darting down to the floor in embarrassment. "T-th-thank you," she stammers before clearing her throat and trying again. "I hope I didn't wake you when I made coffee. I thought you might need it." She sets the cup of coffee on your desk, feeling more at ease now that they are engaged in conversation.

"If there's anything specific you'd like me to do today, please let me know," she says politely, eager to prove herself worthy of your trust and the new life she's been given.

Cibi nods gratefully, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders. Eagerly, she makes her way to the fridge and begins searching through its contents. Her eyes light up at the sight of fresh fruits and vegetables, as well as an assortment of cheeses and crackers. For so long, such luxuries have been out of reach for her; it's almost surreal to have access to them now.

She helps herself to a small plateful of her favorite items, savoring the mix of flavors as she takes a seat at the kitchen table. "Thank you again for this opportunity," she says between bites. "I promise not to disappoint you." Her cheeks flush with determination and sincerity.

As she finishes her meal, Cibi glances up at Mohammed and asks hesitantly, "Is there anything else I can do while I'm waiting for you?"

Cibi nods understandingly as Mohammed explains about his gun shop. "I see... Well then I'll get started on my work here and make sure everything is in order," she says reassuringly, rising from her seat at the kitchen table. With a final glance around to make sure nothing has been neglected, she heads into the living room to tend to the bookshelves and straighten up any items that may need attention.

As she works, she can't help but feel grateful for this new life; for Mohammed and the chance he's given her. She vows silently to herself not to waste a single moment of it, but rather make the most out of every opportunity.

From the sound of his voice, she realizes he must be back from work. Quickly, Cibi darts into the kitchen and tidies up any signs that she's been there; putting away dirty dishes and straightening out countertops until everything is spick-and-span. Then, with a deep breath to steady her nerves, she makes her way back into the living room where Mohammed can see her.

She approaches him hesitantly, head bowed in deference. "Ah... hello, Mohammed. I was just finishing up some work here." She gestures vaguely towards the bookshelves she's been tending to earlier, hoping he approves of her efforts. "Is there anything else you need me to do?" Her voice is soft and pleading, a nervous tremor underscoring every word.