Humphrey (Final Fantasy VIII Fanfiction)
Mar. 7th, 2026 10:03 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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deemoyza_archiveChapters: 3
Fandom: Final Fantasy VIII
Rating/Warnings: General Audiences / No warnings apply
Character(s): Raine, Ellone
Relationship(s): Raine & Ellone
Summary: Following the murder of Ellone's parents at the hands of Esthar soldiers, Raine takes Ellone into her care. While struggling to understand and help a child too young to completely grasp the meaning of what has happened to her, Raine begins having strange, eerily realistic dreams -- dreams that Ellone claims to share.
Chapters
Chapter 1: BreachChapter 2: Orphan
Chapter 3: Twenty Stitches
Chapter 1: Breach
He'd been doing this for so long that he'd begun to repeat his questions. Raine suspected he didn't realize this, and played along, watching his face light up when she correctly answered a question that he thought remarkably obscure.
"Ah, I didn't think they still taught that in school," he said, wiping beer foam from his mustache. "Or I simply assumed you youngsters didn't care enough to remember. You're more than a pretty face, Raine. You've got a lively mind to match."
"Thank you, Oskar." Raine smiled and began shelving the dry glasses.
"Nothing to thank me for. It's the truth." Oskar shifted on his stool to face the man sitting next to him. "Now, lad, it's your turn. What can you tell me about the Dollet-Centra conflict of the Imperial Era?"
While the man stammered for an answer, a high-pitched laugh rang through the pub. At a table in the corner, Mrs. Martens and Mrs. Gabler shared the week's gossip over a game of dominoes. Mrs. Martens took a dainty sip of water — she came to the pub strictly for the socializing, and she let the whole town know it — and leaned forward to share a particularly juicy detail. Mrs. Gabler laughed again, and Mrs. Martens sat back, looking smug, and studied her dominoes before placing one down.
It was a typical scene in Winhill, a town cut off from the capital by high bluffs, trading only in flowers and natural beauty, seemingly forgotten by politics and time. Life moved slowly here, unburdened by the affairs of the outside world, but was no less rich than city life, depending on one's metrics. Raine enjoyed the pace, and the opportunity to run her business as she pleased, rather than as the public demanded, all the while having time to tend to her garden and to curl up with a book or some sewing in the evenings.
She had finished replacing the glasses and was straining to catch a scrap of gossip, when a commotion arose in the house next door. There was shouting outside, the sound of the door being kicked in, followed by screams and gunfire. Raine dove behind the bar, instructing her patrons to get down, as well.
The gunfire continued, rapid and sustained, for several seconds. Peeking around the bar, Raine saw her customers huddled on the floor, and motioned them toward her. Before even Oskar could join her, however, the door to the pub flew open, and men in strange uniforms, with helmets that looked like the heads of insects, rushed inside.
"Stay down!" one of them commanded, and those with him pointed their weapons at the patrons. "Nobody move! We're searching for a child, a girl. Has anyone seen her?"
"A girl?" Raine asked. What a preposterous idea, to search for a child in a pub!
"Yeah. Small girl. Named Ellone."
Raine's eyes widened. Ellone. The little girl who lived next door. What did they want with her? What had they done to her parents? Fear running cold in her veins, Raine only ventured to ask the first question.
"Have you seen the girl or not?" the soldier snapped in reply.
"No."
"You'd better not be lying." He looked around, then motioned for his companions to stand down. "Under orders of Sorceress Adel of Esthar, we are going to conduct a thorough search of this premises. None of you are to move until the search is complete, understand? If we find one shred of evidence that Ellone was here — one fingerprint, one hair — you're gonna end up like your neighbors. Got it?"
Raine nodded, and the soldiers spread out, two toward the back of the pub, two toward her apartment upstairs. Around the bar, she heard Oskar and the man beside him muttering angrily, their sentences laced with profanity. Still, they remained where they were. What could they do? They were unarmed and, frankly, not quite sober. Raine hoped that the alcohol in their blood did not move them to attempt any heroic acts. From what the soldier had said, she gathered that two townsfolk had already died today. They didn't need to add to that count.
After what felt like an eternity, the soldiers reconvened by the bar. Their voices muffled by their helmets, Raine could not make out what they said to each other, but they were apparently satisfied that Ellone was not inside. As the others moved toward the door, the lead soldier hung back.
"If you see her, if you so much as hear her, let us know. We'll be conducting searches throughout the town for the rest of the day. Remember, protecting her is not in your best interest." As he turned to leave, the man next to Oskar rose to a crouch and slunk toward him. Raine bit her lip to stay silent, a hundred admonitions and supplications screaming through her mind. The soldier stopped in the doorway, aware of the movement behind him; then, in a single, swift motion, he spun around and fired his weapon over the crowd, shattering several bottles on a shelf behind the bar.
A warning.
"And don't try anything stupid," he said, slamming the door behind him.
The man lay on the floor, hands over his ears, cursing at the top of his lungs. The other patrons rose on trembling legs, and Mrs. Martens collapsed again into her chair, chugging the remainder of her water and fanning herself.
"What in the blue heavens is going on?" she moaned. "Who were those people?"
"Esthar soldiers," Oskar said, rage strangling his voice. "They were insufferable before, but now that they've got that sorceress in power, they think they can run roughshod over everything and everyone. If I were twenty years younger, I'd have —"
"But what did they want with Ellone?" Mrs. Gabler asked, bringing Mrs. Martens' glass to the bar for a refill. "What would they want with a little girl?"
"A successor, I imagine. Sorceresses don't live forever."
"But why search here? There are plenty of little girls in Esthar. Why Ellone?"
"That, I'm afraid, I can't answer. After all the technology they took from Centra, you'd think they'd be able to just make a successor. Though that thought is downright terrifying."
Raine shook her head, trying to clear the ringing in her ears left by the gunfire, and refilled Mrs. Martens' glass. "Because she's still one of them," she said quietly, frowning. "Annelise's family was from Esthar. Perhaps Esthar kept records … emigration … medical profiles …" She wasn't sure what she was going on about. Her heart had hitched in her chest as she mentioned her neighbor's name, and the realization that Annelise was very likely lying dead inside her house as Raine spoke sent a chill through her entire body. She would need to check on her, and her husband. There wasn't anything she could do for them, but she needed to confirm the worst.
"I wouldn't put it past them to do such a thing." Mrs. Martens said, accepting the glass from Mrs. Gabler and downing it in several gulps. "They're a shifty bunch, all of them! Who knows what kind of information they have on ... Raine, where are you going?"
Raine had abandoned the bar and headed for the door of the pub. "I need to check ... on Annelise and Jeren. I need to see them. I need to know."
"No, no, Raine, you don't need to see that." Mrs. Gabler walked to her and placed her hands on Raine's shoulders. "Nobody needs to see that. We know what happened. Let the soldiers clean up their mess."
"And if they don't? Annelise and Jeren didn't deserve to die, and they don't deserve to rot away, either. I need to know what happened, I need to preserve some shred of their dignity." She hadn't realized, until she saw the drops hit Mrs. Gabler's sleeve, that she was crying. Adrenaline from her encounter with the soldiers still coursed through her body, quickening her heartbeat around the thorn of loss jammed within.
Her neighbors were dead. They had been murdered.
They were gone.
Reality fell like a stone in Raine's chest, and she began to sob. Mrs. Gabler drew her close, gently, as if she was gathering up the remains of a broken vase, and joined her in mourning. As the detached trance that had held them since the soldiers' entrance wore away, the rest of the patrons, one by one, did the same.
Winhill had been breached, their way of life shattered.
Ellone's parents were dead. Ellone, missing.
Soldiers patrolled outside, barking orders at townsfolk and pointing their weapons at anyone who dared stand against them, justifying themselves in the name of Adel.
Time had caught up to Winhill.
And it had let the world — the ugliest, darkest parts of the world — come crashing in.
* * *
The soldiers continued their search for another day. Then, finding nothing, they turned to the river, and, finally, to the ocean. They disposed of the bodies of Ellone's parents on the first night, leaving no trace of the couple's existence, and before they left, they made one last, thorough search of the town. They visited the pub and Raine's apartment again, emptying cupboards and overturning furniture, and leaving Raine to set her belongings to rights once more.
Perhaps it was the exertion of rearranging her apartment, or the strain of living under foreign occupation, if only for two days, but that afternoon, Raine was seized by a wave of drowsiness so strong that she couldn't even make it to her bed. Squeezing her eyes shut against a high-pitched squeal in her head, she crumpled to the floor at the top of the stairs, and fell into a deep sleep.
A shaft of sunlight fell across her face, and she opened her eyes to a small washbasin, and her arms plunged halfway to the elbow in warm, sudsy water. She felt around the basin and brought up a cup, wiping it with a wet cloth and humming as she worked. At least, it felt like she was humming; the voice that reached her ears, however, was not her own.
Where am I?
The humming stopped, and her hands stilled, only for a moment, before resuming their task. Raine looked up and took in the small room around her. Light streamed in from several windows, a low cupboard beside the door held a potted plant that stubbornly refused to grow, and the middle of the room was taken up by a wooden table, painted blue, surrounded by three matching chairs.
I know this place. It's Annelise's house. Ellone's house.
The humming stopped completely now, and Raine pulled her hands from the basin. As she wiped them dry, her eyes widened in horror. These were not her hands. They were smaller, daintier, the fingernails neatly clipped and filed, a slender golden band running around the left ring finger.
These were not her hands. These were …
Annelise. What is happening?
Annelise braced herself against the edge of the basin and sighed, shaking her head. "Jeren," she called, "it's happening again."
"What? Are you all right?" Jeren came down the stairs, taking two at a time, and stood before Annelise, tilting her face toward his, frowning.
"Yes, I'm fine. I'm not dizzy, or in pain. It's just … a strange sensation. Like a buzzing, in my head … thoughts … that don't feel like my own."
"Annie, come sit down. You've been running yourself ragged these days, trying to keep everything spotless, like it was before Ellone was born." He smiled, helping her to a chair. "It doesn't have to be. We have a child now, and children are messy. Just take it easy. Slow down … and enjoy yourself. Enjoy her."
Annelise chuckled, and Raine could feel the sound vibrating through her ribs. What's going on? What am I doing, what am I thinking? Annelise and Jeren had been dead less than forty-eight hours, and here she had already concocted some sick fantasy about having lived Annelise's life.
Stop it! This is a dream. It has to be. Just wake up. Wake up, wake up, wake up!
"Another wave?" Jeren asked.
"How did you know?"
"You were wincing."
"This really is strange. I don't remember having these spells before Ellone was born. Maybe the pregnancy … changed something? Inside of me?"
"Nothing other than you've become very fastidious of late." Jeren grinned and kissed her forehead.
"Well, I want nothing but the best for her. Where is she?"
"Upstairs, playing. You should see the way she concentrates on that little piano. I dare say we have a prodigy on our hands." A tiny sound from the top of the staircase caught Jeren's attention, and he moved to retrieve Ellone from the spot, carrying her downstairs and setting her Annelise's lap.
Oh, Ellone. Where are you now?
Annelise shook her head again and pulled Ellone tight against her. "Right here. You're right here, with me. And you always will be, my sweetness."
Sweetness. Ellone.
The image began to fade, as did the warmth of Ellone's little body. Drifting back into consciousness, Raine awoke in a small puddle of tears, at the top of the staircase to her apartment.
That had been no dream. Whatever it was, it had felt too real, and too much like an intrusion into the life of a woman to whom Raine would never be able to apologize.
Still, she tried. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice cracking around the lump in her throat. "I'm sorry, Annelise. Ellone … oh, Ellone. I'm so sorry."
Chapter 2: Orphan
The next morning, Raine rose early and, grabbing a sturdy bucket and a box of cleaning supplies, headed for the house next door. Even before the Esthar soldiers had left, several townsfolk had begun to clean the house, perhaps as a way to pay their respects to Annelise and Jeren, perhaps as a way to come to terms with their deaths. Or, perhaps, out of the vague but persistent hope that Ellone was still alive somewhere and might, someday, return.
The new door was no more than several slabs of wood nailed together and fitted with hinges and a handle. It fit poorly in the frame, but served its purpose well enough until a proper door could be bought or made. Raine pushed it with her shoulder, and stumbled over the threshold once it gave way. She waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness and held her breath for a moment, relieved when she released it and drew another and detected only the smells of cleaning supplies and disinfectant. She didn't know how the first women in here – Mrs. Gabler and Ilenda, the herbalist from across the square – were able to handle the smells of gunpowder, blood, and death. She was glad they had, however; glad that her only task was to work on the more stubborn stains.
That was hard enough.
She drew back the curtains and opened the windows and set to work, trying to ignore the bullet holes peppering the walls. She tried to believe that the red that tinged her brush and tinted the water in the bucket was no more than spilled paint, or some wayward sauce or jam.
But there was too much. It seemed the harder she scrubbed, the more appeared, as if the house itself was bleeding, mourning for the lives lost within its walls. Raine blinked back tears and continued working, her thoughts drifting but always coming back to one thing, one person.
Ellone. Where was she now? Was she even still alive, or had she, as the soldiers suspected, fallen into the river and been swept out to sea? How had she escaped the soldiers in the first place? Did Annelise or Jeren send her through a window?
Raine's hand stilled as she imagined Annelise's final moments, her final act pushing her daughter from the ground-floor window, her final thought a prayer that someone would find her, the hope she'd done the right thing.
Teardrops hit the floor with light sounds that echoed like thunder in the empty house. Raine emptied and refilled the bucket, and worked for about an hour more, before the despair threatened to suffocate her. She closed the windows and curtains and sent the house back into darkness, and, on her way out, she poured a bit of fresh water on the plant by the door, hoping that something might survive amid this scene of death.
With several hours remaining before the pub opened, Raine put away her cleaning materials and headed into her garden. Being among the flowers soothed her, and, as the sunlight warmed her back, the cold chains around her heart began to loosen.
She'd just finished weeding one flower bed when a muffled sound came from the small shed behind her. She opened the door to investigate, and heard shuffling behind a stack of boxes in the corner. Mice, perhaps, or a wayward baby Catechipillar? They were fairly harmless as juveniles, and quite lovely to look at; Raine smiled as she approached the boxes, ready to catch whatever might run out from behind them.
Nothing did. Instead, a tiny yellow shoe poked out from behind the box closest to the wall. As Raine looked on, puzzled, another little foot appeared, this one bare, and soon, a child wriggled backwards out from behind the boxes, clutching a filthy stuffed rabbit to her chest.
Ellone.
Raine cried out her name, and Ellone started. She turned around, brown eyes wider than usual on a face thinned by hunger, and smiled when she saw Raine.
"Raine!" Ellone scrambled to her feet and flung herself at Raine, burying her face in Raine's pants leg, wiping her eyes and nose on the fabric. "Hi!" Then, pulling away, she glanced around quickly. She motioned Raine toward her and, leaning close, whispered, "Bug people gone?"
The Esthar soldiers. So, she had seen them. Did she see what they'd done to her parents?
"Yes," Raine replied, "the bug people are gone. Were you hiding from them?"
"Uh-huh. Mama say hide. I hided here. I'm a good girl!"
"Yes, you are! A very good girl." Raine relaxed. Ellone hadn't seen; but that also meant she didn't know. How would Raine tell her that her parents were gone, that they weren't coming back? Perhaps she could buy some time, and get some advice on the matter from the other women in town. She wiped a streak of dirt off Ellone's cheek. "You look like you've been there a while. Are you hungry?"
"Yes! Very hungy!"
"All right, then. Let's go inside, and get you cleaned up and fed."
Forty-five minutes and one uncooperative bath later, Ellone sat at a table in the pub, disappearing into one of Raine's shirts and swinging her legs from the chair. She'd finished two bowls of cereal already, and was starting on her second piece of toast when Ilenda arrived, with Mrs. Martens on her heels.
They looked at Ellone and shook their heads sadly, then cast inquisitive glances at Raine.
"Where in the world was she?" Ilenda asked, smiling down at Ellone.
Ellone returned the smile. "I hided. I'm a good girl."
"In my garden shed, behind some boxes," Raine answered.
"Didn't the soldiers search there?"
"Yes, but not as thoroughly as they claimed."
"That, or she wasn't there yet. Ellone, did you go anywhere else after your Mama told you to hide?"
Ellone nibbled on her toast. "I hided. With Humfee."
"Humfee?" Ilenda staggered forward as Mrs. Martens nudged her out of the way to examine Ellone. She lifted Ellone's arms, looked into her eyes and bent down to examine her little feet beneath the table. Ellone kept eating, only mildly perturbed.
"Humphrey, her stuffed rabbit.," Raine said. "She was holding it when I found her. It definitely needs a good washing before she gets it back."
"It's all so strange –"
"Don't question it," Mrs. Martens said, frowning at the dirt that remained under Ellone's fingernails even after her bath. "Providence protected this child, and it must have had a reason to. We should celebrate this miracle, instead of trying to pick it apart."
Ilenda shrugged and looked at Raine, who smiled.
"Indeed," Raine said. "We should celebrate. Celebrate Ellone!"
"Yay," Ellone cried, raising the crust of her toast. "Cel'brate! Cel'brate Humfee, too!"
"Yes, Humphrey too."
"Where's Humfee? I wanna see Humfee."
Raine's smile tightened as she tried to explain to Ellone that Humphrey needed to be cleaned before she could see him again, that he needed a bath.
"No bath." Ellone shook her head rapidly. "Humfee don't like bath. Ellone don't like bath." Her lower lip jutted out and she fixed Raine with a sullen glare, retribution for the bath she'd been subjected to.
Raine laughed nervously. "Oh no, Humphrey enjoys baths. He told me himself." She turned a desperate expression on the other women in the pub, neither of whom offered advice. Instead, they watched the exchange curiously, looking from Ellone to Raine and back, as if watching a tennis match.
"Humfee don't like baths," Ellone concluded, then slid down off the chair. "I find Humfee."
"No, no, no. Like I said, he's waiting for his bath."
"Nuh-uh. Humfee don't like bath. Mama said." Ellone paused, biting her lip, then turned toward the front door. "I find Mama."
"No!" Raine shot forward, inserting herself between Ellone and the door, trying to mask her panic with another awkward laugh. "Your mama … she's … not home right now. Or your daddy. They asked me to look after you."
Raine watched the horrified expressions creep into her friends' faces and shrugged helplessly. Mrs. Martens was the first to regain her composure. She stepped forward and took Ellone by the hand, and led her to a table in the corner, talking and cooing to her all the way.
"You haven't told her?" Ilenda asked, keeping her voice low and glancing at Ellone.
"Of course not," Raine said. "I don't know how. I was hoping you or Mrs. Martens could help me with that."
Ilenda exhaled slowly. "Well, I suppose the best way is to be direct. She doesn't have to know how they died, but she needs to know they're not coming back."
"That seems cruel."
"No, cruel is letting her believe that her parents are just away for a few days, and that they'll come to pick her up eventually. She's very young, but you can't discount a child's intelligence. Or imagination. She needs to know the truth."
"Very well. You can tell her."
"Me? She likes me well enough, but you're the one she's attached to. She trusts you."
"Which is exactly why I don't want to tell her. She might accuse me of lying, and there goes all that trust you mentioned."
"Raine Leonhart." Ilenda frowned and placed her hands on her hips. "I can't believe I'm hearing this from you. You are a strong woman, a hardworking woman, a courageous woman who has never backed away from a challenge. There is a little girl right now who expects her dead parents to come waltzing back home at any moment, a little girl who needs to hear the truth from someone she trusts, who needs to know that despite what happened, she will still be loved and cared for. You are the one she trusts the most, the one she looks up to." Ilenda's expression softened. "She's not going to turn on you. Don't worry."
Raine nodded, slowly, then walked to the table where Ellone sat with Mrs. Martens, talking excitedly and making outsized gestures. Mrs. Martens excused herself and turned her seat over to Raine. Raine cast one last look at the women hovering nearby, then reached across the table and took Ellone's hands into her own.
"Ellone," she began, "there's something I need to tell you."
"Mrs. Martens said she sawed a pretty bird. I wanna see a pretty bird." Ellone craned her neck to peer out the window. Raine gave her hands a gentle squeeze, and recaptured her attention.
"I’m sure you do. But right now, you need to listen to me, because I have something very important to tell you. Okay?"
"Okay!"
"Ellone, your mama and daddy … they didn't just go out for a while."
"I know."
"You know?"
"Uh-huh. Bug people yelled. Not let Mama out." She began to slide off her chair. "Bug people gone now. I find Mama."
"No, Ellone, stay here. You won't find your mama at home."
"Mama don't leave."
"No, she didn't leave. She would never leave you. But something happened, and she can't be here anymore. Neither can your daddy." Raine jumped at a muted cough from Ilenda. Taking a deep breath, she tightened her grip on Ellone's hands. "Ellone, your mama and daddy died. Do you know what 'died' means?"
"Nope!"
"It means … they … stopped … their bodies stopped working. They don't get up, they don't sleep, they don't eat. And they aren't around us anymore."
"Oh." Ellone frowned, no doubt trying to wrap her childish mind around the concept of death. "When do they come back?"
"They don't. That's what dying is. We can't be with them anymore, we can't see them."
"Nuh-uh! I sawed Mama! I sawed Daddy! Mama hug me, Mama call me swee'ness!"
Sweetness?
"She did, but that was a few days ago, before the bug people came."
Ellone shook her head, fiercely. "Nuh-uh, Raine! I sawed Mama today! Mama call me swee'ness!"
"Oh dear," Mrs. Martens muttered, stepping toward Ellone and putting her hands on Ellone's shoulders. "Ellone, sweetie, listen to Raine. Raine is telling the truth. Your Mama and Daddy loved you very much, but they can't be with you anymore. You just had a dream, a very nice dream."
"No dream!" Ellone reached up and brushed Mrs. Martens' hands off her shoulders. "I sawed Mama. I sawed Daddy. Humfee showed me them!" She slammed her tiny fists on the table. "Not lying! I was playing, then Daddy taked me to Mama. Mama said, you always be here. Then Mama call me swee'ness!"
Her tone had escalated until she screamed the final word. She slid off her chair, crying, but Raine did not follow her. Instead, she thought about the scene Ellone had described.
You're right here, with me.
And you always will be, my sweetness.
It was a coincidence. It had to be. People didn't share dreams. Especially not oddly particular dreams.
"Not lying, not lying," Ellone was screaming, struggling in Mrs. Martens arms.
"Ellone, dearie, please calm down," Mrs. Martens said. "I know you don't lie. Now, please, calm down. You're upsetting Raine."
Ilenda meanwhile, excused herself to get something from her shop.
"You are not going to medicate this child for grief," Mrs. Martens shouted.
"It's not medication," Ilenda explained, halfway out the door. "Just a tea. It'll soothe her."
"You're just running away – no, no, Ellone, sweetie, I'm not mad – you'd better come back, Ilenda. Raine!"
Raine snapped out of her thoughts to see Mrs. Martens gather Ellone close to her, despite the stamping of feet and flailing of arms, and muffle Ellone's cries against her body. She rocked gently from side to side, whispering softly, and Ellone's movements calmed. Ellone began to sway with Mrs. Martens, her cries growing quieter until they were no more than whimpers and hiccups.
"There," Mrs. Martens said, guiding her back to the table. "Everything is going to be fine. Let's go sit with Raine."
"No." Ellone stopped in her tracks. "Not Raine. Raine lied."
"All right, then we'll sit here for now. Just relax, dearie, relax. Everything will be all right." Mrs. Martens stroked Ellone's hair and cast a sympathetic glance toward Raine. Raine shrugged in reply and watched the two of them together, watched Ellone place her head on the table and close her eyes.
By the time Ilenda returned with the tea, Ellone was fast asleep.
* * *
"You see," Raine said quietly, sitting on the couch in her upstairs apartment, Ellone sleeping peacefully on one of the beds, "I don't know how to handle this. I'm not very good with children."
"Nonsense," Mrs. Martens said. "You simply lack experience. That little girl loves you, but she's hurting right now, and she's confused. If I were a betting woman – which I most assuredly am not – I would wager that she'll have forgotten her anger by the time she wakes up."
"Mrs. Martens is right." Ilenda slid the cup of tea, now cold, toward Raine. "You'll be back in her good graces in no time."
"That may be, but what about afterwards?" Raine took a sip of tea. "Where will she go? Who will take care of her? I can't do it. I could barely survive this morning's episode. Mrs. Martens? Would you consider taking Ellone in with your family?"
At the request, the gentle smile faded from Mrs. Martens' face, and her features grew heavy. "Oh, Raine," she sighed. "So, you haven't heard. The war has escalated. Esthar's attack on us was deemed an act of war, and our president swears retaliation. We're still fighting in Timber of course, for some obscure reason, so the volunteer ranks have grown quite thin. In response, the president has instated a draft. All able-bodied Galbadian men between the ages of eighteen and forty-five are to report to Deling City by the beginning of next week."
"Eighteen and forty-five …"
"A wide net, no? Wide enough to catch two of my family. My husband, and my eldest son." She sighed again, raggedly. "So, Raine, while I would normally be all too glad to take in Ellone, I simply can't at the moment. I need to manage my household first, on my own."
"I understand. I'm sorry to hear the news."
"It will be fine. How does that saying go? 'It takes twenty men behind the lines to keep one soldier on the battlefield'? Something like that. At any rate, there is a good chance my loved ones will never see battle." She gave a small, bitter smile, unconvinced by her own optimism.
"I know very little more about children than Raine does," Ilenda said. "And I have quite a few potentially dangerous herbs and medicines in my home. It wouldn't be a safe environment for a little girl."
"What should I do, then?" Raine asked. "Are there no other options?"
"An orphanage," Mrs. Martens suggested. "Quite a few have popped up since the beginning of the war. I hear there are even some in remote areas, like Centra. Ellone should be safe there, if Esthar ever realizes she's still alive."
"Perhaps, but I'd feel terrible sending her away. She's already lost her parents; it seems cruel to strip her of everything familiar, as well."
"Then what would you propose we do?"
Ilenda brightened. "We could always make it a collaborative effort," she said, peeking over her shoulder at Ellone. "She could stay here, but we could take turns caring for her while Raine works, or when Raine needs extra help. And not just us! The other townsfolk as well."
"Collaborative? An unconventional idea, but not a bad one." Mrs. Martens nodded. "What do you say to that, Raine?"
Raine smiled. "I'd gladly accept that arrangement. I need all the help I can get."
"And you'll get plenty," Ilenda went on. "Everyone loves Ellone, she's a little sweetheart! Oh, this is perfect! Not only does she get to stay in Winhill, but she'll get so much attention from everybody. She'll learn so much!" She reached out and clasped Mrs. Martens' and Raine's hands. "We're her family now. We'll take care of her, together. We won't let her down."
Chapter 3: Twenty Stitches
Ellone was right. Humphrey did not like baths.
Raine stared at the remains of Humphrey in her hands and cursed. She'd wiped him with a damp cloth first, but clearing away the dirt revealed something worse beneath. Dark brown spots spread through the fibers, sinking deeper with every wipe, leaving a rust-colored residue on the cloth.
Blood.
How much had Ellone seen?
Realizing that the damp cloth alone would not remove the stains, Raine filled a basin with cold water and lowered Humphrey into it. She felt his stuffing absorb the water and swell, but she didn't notice that it had broken through the stitches until it floated up in tufts, and Humphrey deflated in her hands.
And still, the stains remained.
Raine groaned and considered her options. She could always dry the stuffing, give Humphrey a more vigorous bath, and try to repair him, but there was no guarantee he'd ever get completely clean, and no guarantee that his re-stuffing wouldn't leave him lumpy. She spread out what remained of the stuffed rabbit and studied it. It wasn't a complicated design; with the right materials and a little time, she was confident she could duplicate Humphrey, or at least make a very convincing copy.
She worked on it during the evenings, after Ellone was asleep, making slow progress, and always quick to hide the evidence in her sewing basket at any sound or movement coming from the bed.
Ellone, meanwhile, spent her days vacillating between being a happy, normal child, and a despondent orphan, asking over and over when her parents were coming back for her. Each time, Raine sat her down and explained, very gently, that they were not. Tears always followed, and, more often than not, accusations of lying, but Raine believed that deep down, Ellone felt the truth of her words, felt the emptiness and desperation of grief, though she was unable to articulate it herself.
Then, there were the dreams. They always seemed to affect Raine while Ellone was napping, too, and overwhelmed her with drowsiness and a high-pitched whine that made her head ache. They always focused on Annelise and Jeren, and felt uncannily realistic, down to the engagement of the senses.
Raine would wake from these dreams slowly, groggily, and find Ellone sitting up in bed with a large smile lighting up her face.
"I sawed Mama and Daddy," she'd announce, then scamper over to where Raine was getting up. "They're not gone. I sawed them."
When Raine tried to convince her it was only a dream, Ellone would recount her experience, matching Raine's dream down to the smallest detail.
"And if Humfee's here," she said one afternoon, "I can see more."
"I don't get it," Ilenda said late one morning, watching Raine wipe down the bar while Ellone played her own version of dominoes with Mrs. Martens and Mrs. Gabler. "You're telling me that you and Ellone are having the same dreams?"
"Not all the time," Raine answered. "And not at night. Usually, it's during Ellone's naptime, or at random points in the day when she falls asleep. I hear a strange noise and get intensely drowsy, and the next thing I know, I'm in the middle of a disturbingly vivid dream."
"And you say she credits the rabbit for this?"
"She used to say he gave her those dreams. But since he's … out of commission at the moment, she now thinks he only makes them stronger."
"I'm sorry, Raine, but this all is so hard to believe."
"I agree, and I'm the one having these dreams." The door opened, and Raine greeted the customers that walked in, noticing that Ilenda had not left the bar. In fact, she leaned against it now, a severe expression on her face. Once Raine had filled the customers' orders, she went back to her.
"Unless," Ilenda said, "you don't suppose … that's the reason?"
"Reason?"
"That Esthar was looking for her. I was thinking about what you described. Maybe Ellone is causing these dreams, unconsciously. Maybe she found a way to connect to your subconscious, and use you as a conduit to revisit an earlier time."
"I'm sorry, Ilenda, but that is one of the most ridiculous things I've heard."
"But with a grain of plausibility, no? Think of it like a strange kind of magic. If people can be trained to cast fire from their hands, what's to tell us that a little girl can't pull others into her dreams?"
"She hasn't been trained to do that, for one thing."
"And that's exactly why Esthar was looking for her. You know –" Ilenda dropped her voice and leaned across the bar – "sorceress powers."
Raine frowned. "Ellone is not a sorceress. This is absurd!"
"Perhaps, but it's an explanation. What have you got?"
"Nothing … yet. I don't know. It's all so strange, but I know there has to be a logical explanation for it. I just haven't figured it out."
"Figure all you want, but I guarantee you won't find a logical explanation that also explains why Esthar wants her so badly." Ilenda reached across the bar and patted Raine's hand. "Face it, Raine, Ellone is special, more so than we already knew. There's nothing wrong with that."
"There is if someone finds out. Look how quickly you jumped to the conclusion that she must be a sorceress. What if other people do the same? Might I remind you that sorceresses are not popular? What would they do to her? How would I protect her? How could I?" Raine looked at Ellone, who was building small structures from dominoes that had been set aside in the heat of gossip, and shook her head. "Maybe it's just grief. Maybe it's just me."
"You?"
"I want to comfort her so badly, maybe I convinced myself that I'm sharing in her dreams, so she won't feel alone."
The customers waved Raine over to pay for their drinks. When they left, Ilenda availed herself of one of the vacated stools.
"You may be right," she said, "but that doesn't explain one very important detail."
"What is that?"
"When did you have the first dream?"
"The first one … the night the soldiers left … the morning before –"
"Before you found Ellone," Ilenda finished. "She was nearby, but you didn't know it. So, that contradicts your theory that you're doing it for her; however, it supports my theory that she's using you as some sort of link."
Raine rubbed her eyes and groaned. "I don't know what to think anymore, other than that maybe you got into an odd mixture of herbs in your shop."
Ilenda laughed. "I know it seems far-fetched, but try to keep an open mind. There are many things in this world we can't understand. What's one more, especially when it's as adorable as she is?"
Ilenda took her leave, and Raine's gaze drifted back toward Ellone. She had abandoned her architectural pursuits and now watched Mrs. Gabler closely, copying the chatty woman's excited gestures with her own tiny hands.
There are many things in this world we can't understand. What's one more?
One more was a little girl grieving the deaths of her parents. One more was a little girl still too young to comprehend the permanence of her loss. One more was a little girl in need of care and love.
A little girl in need of understanding.
* * *
Humphrey – or rather, his twin – was coming along nicely. All that remained to do was stuff the toy and embroider the features, but this required even more stealth on Raine's part, due to the toy's growing size. She kept a blanket beside her on the couch as she worked, to shove the toy beneath should Ellone wake suddenly, and was attuned to every sigh and stir on the bed behind her.
As she portioned the stuffing into smaller bits to fit into Humphrey's extremities, she laid the original toy in front of her to study its features. Two small black eyes, a pale pink nose. Easy enough to replicate; finding uninterrupted solitude in which to work, however, was another matter. Perhaps one of the other women in town wouldn't mind taking Ellone for an evening. She would have to ask when she saw them next …
The whine in Raine's ears began faintly, but grew in volume and pitch until Raine dropped the stuffing and clutched her head. Again? But Ellone had been asleep for hours; it had never happened this late in the evening. Her vision blurred by the pain in her head, as well as the encroaching drowsiness, Raine fumbled with the blanket, and managed to cover the unfinished toy before she lost consciousness.
Annelise shook her head and swatted the air around her. "It's like a swarm of tiny bees," she said. "A constant buzzing."
"Perhaps you should sit down," Jeren offered, already drawing out a chair.
"No. I hate to say it, but I think I'm getting used to it. That's not to say it doesn't still bother me, though." She slid on a pair of oven mitts and opened the oven, inhaling the scent of freshly-baked cookies as she pulled out the baking sheet. "Besides, if the doctor doesn't see any reason to worry, I suppose I shouldn't look for one."
"That's the spirit. Maybe it has something to do with the atmosphere here. The pressure? The pollen?" Jeren chuckled, stooping to gather Ellone in his arms and set her on the table in front of him. "I feel really horrible for you if you've become allergic to Winhill's biggest export."
"I doubt that's it. I don't have any other symptoms." She transferred the cookies to a cooling rack. "The thing that troubles me the most isn't physical at all. It's a feeling. The feeling that I'm not alone in my mind, that someone else is watching this same scene with me." She sighed. "Oh, it's all so silly, I know! But I can't quite shake it."
Jeren said nothing, his attention drawn to Ellone, who kept trying to stand to get a better view of the cooling cookies. He pulled her down to his lap, but that only excited her curiosity more, and she stretched her little arms toward Annelise.
"Cookie! Want cookie," she said.
"Not yet, sweetness," Annelise replied. "They need to cool."
"Want now!"
"It'll just be a few minutes." Annelise smiled at Jeren. "Just as long as a song, right?"
Jeren nodded, and began singing an old nursery rhyme, gently rocking Ellone back and forth in time with the tune. Annelise joined in, and soon, Ellone did as well, approximating the sounds she'd heard her parents sing to her time and again.
"The butterfly flies from flower to flower, sipping sweet nectar for hours and hours. When the sun goes down and the stars shine bright, the butterfly leaves and says, 'good night!'"
The butterfly flies from flower to flower …
"Sipping swee' neckar for hour an' hour. When sun goes down an' star shine bright, buh-fly leave and says good night!" Ellone's voice rose above those of her parents, and grew louder still as the warmth of the kitchen and smell of cookies faded away.
"The buh-fly flies from flower to flower …"
Raine groaned and opened her eyes, Ellone's bright singsong cutting through the silence in the apartment. She sat up and saw Ellone standing before her, smiling and bouncing lightly.
"… an' star shine bright, buh-fly leave and say good night!" Ellone shouted out the last line and launched into a fit of giggles. "I sing good. Mama an' Daddy singed with me. We singed."
"Yes, you did sing. You sang well." Raine blinked and tried to focus. This had been the most peculiar dream yet. The warmth, the smell, Annelise's words.
Not alone in my mind … someone else is watching this same scene with me.
And then, the song.
Each time Raine had woken from these dreams, Ellone would be waiting to share the details of her own, and while they had always been eerily similar to what Raine had experienced, they'd never meshed with reality the way the nursery rhyme did.
How could she account for that, without entertaining Ilenda's theory? Raine shook her head to clear her mind and opened her arms to Ellone.
"Did you sing that song with your parents a lot?" she asked.
"Uh-huh," Ellone replied, yawning and resting her head on Raine's shoulder. She had apparently woken up only moments before Raine. "I like that song."
"It's very pretty. I haven't heard it in a long time."
"You singed it, too?"
"Not since I was little, like you." Raine stroked Ellone's hair. "That must have been a really nice dream you had."
"Not dream. Sawed Mama and Daddy. Not dream."
"But Ellone, honey, you were sleeping."
"Not sleeping. Singing. I singed with Mama and Daddy." Ellone gave a little huff and pushed herself away from Raine. She wriggled off the couch and stood there, looking at the floor, chewing on her lower lip. "Wanna see Mama –"
"Oh, Ellone, like I told you –"
"No! Wanna see Mama. Close my eyes. Like this." She squeezed her eyes shut and scrunched up her features. Raine made a similar expression as the whining started up in her ears again and her eyelids grew heavy.
"Ellone …"
Ellone opened her eyes, and the sensation went away. "That's how I see Mama."
Raine gaped at her. Ilenda was right. Ellone was causing these dreams, somehow. But was it magic, or a natural ability? And how could Raine get her to stop? It was doing neither of them any good, and it certainly wasn't helping Ellone come to terms with the permanence of death. Eventually, she'd run out of memories to revisit, and then what? Would she keep cycling through the few she'd accumulated, subjecting Raine to a carousel of selected experiences? What about when she got older, and realized that she wasn't visiting her parents in the present? How would she handle the heartbreak then, deferred and fermented into something much more painful than it already was?
No. This had to stop. Raine drew her shoulders back, prepared to try to reason with a toddler, but changed her mind when she looked into Ellone's eyes. The spark in them had dimmed, and was replaced by a faraway look, a despondent look. A lonely look.
She knew.
Somewhere, deep inside her little heart, Ellone knew that her parents weren't coming back. She knew that they lived on only inside of her, and she knew that the only way she could visit them was through those dreams … through Raine.
Raine blinked back tears and sighed. Of course, this would have to stop, someday. But not today. If Ellone needed her, needed to use her consciousness to slowly separate from the people she'd loved the most, then she was more than happy to be there for her.
She was honored to be of help.
She straightened once again, and was about to suggest that she and Ellone get some nice warm milk before going to bed, when Ellone let loose with a blood-curdling shriek and dove for the coffee table.
"Humfee!" she cried, lifting the sad, floppy remains of her favorite toy. "Humfee! No!" Tears flowed down her cheeks as she waved the material in the air, screaming Humphrey's name over and over.
Raine cursed under her breath. She'd hidden the new toy before she fell asleep, but had forgotten she'd left the old one out. She reached out and pulled Ellone close, feeling Ellone's body trembling from head to toe in her arms, hot tears soaking into her sweater.
Ellone didn't struggle, and said nothing more than Humphrey's name as she unleashed deep, painful sobs that had to do with much more than the loss of a beloved toy. The discovery of Humphrey's "skin" was the catalyst for her grief, and all of the fear and sadness and hurt that she had been holding back for weeks came rushing out.
Her sobs escalated to screams, muffled against Raine's chest, and she grabbed handfuls of fabric on the back of Raine's sweater and tugged as hard as she could. Raine held her tightly and rocked back and forth, whispering gently as she'd seen Mrs. Martens do. Eventually, Ellone quieted, sniffling and drawing ragged breaths, and leaned back to look at Raine.
"Humfee gone, too," she said, then dropped her head against Raine's shoulder.
"No, he's not," Raine whispered, reaching for the nearly-completed stuffed rabbit under the blanket. "Humphrey's not gone. He just needed a little pick-me-up. See? Here's Humphrey."
Ellone gave the new toy a sidelong glance, decided she didn't like it, and burrowed deeper into Raine's sweater. "Not Humfee."
"Well, not technically." Ilenda had been right about this, too; never discount a child's intelligence. Raine looked around herself for something to soothe Ellone, some way to sand down the edges of Humphrey's unfortunate end. The remains of the original rabbit lay on the floor, and Raine wondered if incorporating them somehow into the new toy might help make the transition easier for Ellone. But how? New Humphrey was already all sewn up, save for the hole through which she was stuffing him. Perhaps she could put a scrap of old material inside the new rabbit. Or, perhaps she could do better: she could make him a heart.
"You're right, Ellone," she said, lightly rubbing Ellone's back, "this new rabbit isn't Humphrey. Not yet. But he will be, once he gets a loving heart. And you can help me with that. Will you help me give Humphrey a loving heart?"
Ellone sniffled and pulled away, looking down at the old Humphrey and back at Raine. "Okay."
"All right! Now, you sit here next to me, and hold onto Humphrey's new body, okay? I'm going to get started on his heart."
While Ellone watched, Raine cut several heart-shaped pieces out of the old material and stitched them together. Then, breaking the filling into small pieces, she and Ellone stuffed the heart. Ellone had brightened by now, and giggled at the texture of the filling between her fingers. When it came time to sew it up, Raine turned to her with a smile.
"A heart isn't just where love comes from," she said. "It's also where our memories are. In our minds and in our hearts. So, what do you say we give Humphrey some nice memories? One for every stitch."
"Yeah!" Ellone swung her legs from the couch and grinned.
"Okay, let's see … how about a happy memory about your Mama?"
"Mama? Mama singed good."
"All right, stitch one: Mama singed good. Now, what about your Daddy?"
"Daddy funny! Daddy make funny sounds!"
"That is a nice memory! Two stitches in already! Humphrey's going to have a new heart in no time!"
And so Raine continued, drawing out happy memories Ellone had accumulated of her parents in the short time she had known them, and sealed them inside the stuffed heart with every stitch.
"Mama maked cookies!" Seventeen. "Daddy play panno with me!" Eighteen. "Mama and Daddy taked me to see buh-flies." Nineteen. "Mama call me swee'ness!" Twenty.
The heart was complete. Twenty stitches, twenty memories, tucked safely inside a soft heart.
"Great job, Ellone! Those were lovely memories." Raine reached for the new rabbit. "What do you say we put the heart in now, so Humphrey can enjoy those memories?"
"Rrright!" Ellone said, jabbing her fist into the air. She rose to her knees and hovered over Raine, breathing quietly, watching as Raine placed the heart inside New Humphrey, covered it with the final bits of filling, and stitched the hole closed.
"There," she said. "He still needs a face, but I promise he'll get one tomorrow morning."
"'Sokay!" Ellone snatched Humphrey from Raine's hands and squeezed him tight. "Humfee back! Humfee and me togedder!"
Raine watched her amble back to bed and wrap herself in the covers, clutching the stuffed rabbit to her chest. Within minutes, she was asleep, her deep, rhythmic breathing the only sound in the apartment.
Raine picked up the remaining material from the original Humphrey and stared at the heart-shaped holes in it. Tears she'd been holding in for Ellone's sake flowed freely now, and she whispered Annelise's name into the silence.
"I hardly know what I'm doing," she said, "but I'm trying my best. She'll be all right, Annelise, and so will I. We'll both be just fine."
* * *
A new stuffed toy was not an instant fix for Ellone's grief, and Raine didn't expect it to be. But Humphrey did give her a focal point for her feelings, and a tangible repository of her most cherished memories. She talked to it constantly, laughing and reminiscing; it seemed to nearly fill her need to relive her time with her parents, and as such, the odd dreams she shared with Raine decreased in frequency.
From time to time, however, she would grow despondent, and respond to nobody else but Raine. If Raine happened to be working at these times, Ilenda, or Mrs. Martens, or whoever was caring for Ellone at the moment, would take over at the bar for a while, and let Raine and Ellone spend some time together.
It didn't take much to relieve these moods, Raine discovered: only a walk in the garden. Ellone would look at the flowers and chatter about the ones her Mama loved and the ones her Daddy would plant in the spring. And then she'd take Raine's hand and swing her arm in a steady rhythm as she sang about the butterfly again. Thus calmed, she would return to playing and Raine to her work, and life would continue as normal.
One day, Raine knew, those walks would not be enough to satisfy her; one day, she would start asking more questions. Raine wasn't sure how she would handle that, and was content to put it off for as long as possible. Because today was enough of a gift for both of them, a gift that kept giving with each new sunrise.
The bar was cozy that afternoon, with sunlight filtering in through stained-glass windows. Raine wiped down the bar, Mrs. Martens and Mrs. Gabler gossiped, and Ellone stood, back straight, in front of old Oskar and repeated what he'd taught her.
"The Dolly-Centa conflick of 'Perial Air started when …"
Yes, today truly was a gift.
And who was more deserving of it than Ellone?
