"City lights, urban sprawl; in a place no one should know..."

-Alter Bridge

Another new day, and you've decided, just to put your nerves at ease, to take Halien to the vet. Even after the Scratch case, doctors aren't quite ready to take trolls as patients. No surprise, since the notion of trolls being pets and nothing but pets is still deeply engraved in all but the select few.

It seems as though you've become one of those select few.

To your surprise, when you enter the bathroom to help Halien brush her teeth a tiny blue-and-white jumper and equally-tiny white underoos for your new arrival are hanging from the doorknob. You expect Kanaya was awake for quite a while last night making them, and you make a mental note to thank her later, because she's already left for work. The clothes fit perfectly, and Halien seems quite comfortable in them. You scoop up the troll in your arms and make way for Porrim's veterinary practice just down the street.

During the five-minute walk, you can't help but think of all the possible things that could be horribly wrong: how small she is, for one thing, and how thin. Surely the scrawniness is from lack of nourishment, but does her size have anything to do with her abuse, or is it something else entirely? By the time you've arrived at the clinic, your head is a swirling mess from all the questions.

The receptionist sets up your appointment easily, as there is only one other person waiting in the lobby, and you go sit down while Halien toddles around and explores everything. It's so adorable, the way she pokes and prods and sniffs at everything, and while she's examining the wallpaper covered in dancing teddy bears – you assume only to calm the nerves of anxious pet owners and very young, nervous trolls – you notice a flicker of movement from behind the legs of the other person in the room. He's quite tall, with a roguish face and a red-streaked mohawk, and chocolate-brown eyes that look like they could melt just about anything no matter what his mood was. He grins and reaches behind his legs and gently leads out a young troll by a small hand. The troll is small – not Halien small, but you can tell he's very young, maybe around the same age – and his eyes are odd: one is a deep, bright blue while the other is cherry red, and they're given a glowy sort of appearance from behind the glasses perched on a freckled nose. There's a lime-green streak in his hair, and unlike Halien his ears have a very slight fin-like appearance to them; and his horns are odd: one side sports a pair of sharp curved horns while the other has a vague lightning-bolt shape. He's dressed in a little white sweater and blue jeans and green sneakers and he's so adorable your heart breaks for the second time in twenty-four hours. Halien stops studying the wallpaper and looks at him before carefully getting off the chair and approaching him slowly. They sort of stare at each other before they start sniffing each other like cats do, and the boy troll comes out of his hiding place and starts chirruping and squeaking in what you can only assume to be a troll's native language and Halien starts squeaking and chirruping back. The man smiles at the sight, then looks at you. "Is she yours?"

"Yes. Er, not officially, not yet. She's a rescue. Just brought her home last night."

He nods. "I found Erisol here about a month ago, scrawny and starvin' and lookin' like some poor pup that had been kicked too many damn times. Took a few days, but a few cans of salmon and he waltzed right in like he owned the place and hasn't left since." He extends a tan hand, lean and firm, toward you. "Rufioh Nitram."

You accept the offered hand. "Rose Maryam-Lalonde. And that's Halien."

He's about to say something else, but a nurse walks into the room and calls for you. You pick up Halien – she waves goodbye to her new friend first – and take her back into the examining room.

You just have to admit, Porrim is one of your favorite people in the world, and you don't think you'd trust anyone with Halien more than you would her. Sure, she's well-known for one-night-stands and quick flings, but the minute she sees Halien she smiles and extends a hand to the tiny troll and introduces herself. Halien, in turn, grips her index finger in her two tiny hands and shakes it and says "Peesetameechoo" and your heart breaks again. You're pretty sure Porrim's does too.

The examination goes quickly; Halien is so distracted by the wonder of the new place to mind anything Porrim is doing while you tell her what Halien told you the day before, and she hardly even notices when the vet draws a couple vials of cherry-red blood. When she does notice, it's when the needle is being taken out and a band-aid put on and she's staring at the spot as though she expected it to hurt more.

Porrim allows Halien to look at the animals while she talks with you. She's estimated that the troll is around two years old, and judging from her size and weight she was hatched prematurely, coupled with the abuse that she'd gone under. As to her blood and hair color – she tells you that bright red blood is considered a mutation amongst trolls – there is no way of telling what caused that until the blood tests return. But other than being dehydrated, malnourished, and very small and skinny she's perfectly healthy. She tells you to expect her horns to continue growing for the next few months, and at certain intervals over the next several years until adulthood they'll shed, like antlers; otherwise they would become so heavy she wouldn't be able to support her head because they'll continually grow until adulthood is reached. She also says that she'll try to locate whoever her first owner was – regarding if he's still alive – and report to you when she finds anything out. She doesn't bother scanning for a microchip; if she had one, it would just lead to her previous owners' establishment and she under no circumstances wants that. Then she hands you a couple tomes on troll care and crouches in front of Halien who is looking at a litter of fuzzy kittens that are just starting to toddle around and says goodbye to her and Halien says "Bye-bye Ockta Prim" and the heartbreak in the room is so heavy it's difficult to breathe.

You stop by the waiting room for Halien to say goodbye to Erisol and Rufioh suggests that you two arrange a park meeting together so Erisol and Halien can play and you say it sounds like a good idea and does Saturday sound nice? and he says that it would be perfect just as the nurse calls them back into the E.R. Halien waves goodbye one last time before she clings to your shirt as you take her back home.

Halien is already asleep by the time you arrive home, so you settle her in her pile of blankies and turn on the television. The news stations are abuzz – someone apparently broke into a troll incubation center and stole at least two eggs and numerous pieces of incubation equipment and troll care supplies, whether to raise them as their own or sell them once they've hatched or use them for their own dirty gain, you have no idea. Despite the recent excitement, you grow bored of the same story on every channel rather quickly and turn it on Nick Jr. instead for when Halien wakes up before going to tend to the household.

A couple hours later, you emerge from the laundry room to find Halien sitting on the couch, eyes glued intently to Wallykazam!, sucking her thumb and gleefully cheering the magic words on the screen.

Is this what your mother felt like when she raised you?

Is this what it's like to have children?

What's the difference between a troll child and a human child anyway? Aren't they pretty much the same?

You stare at the tiny child on the couch and your heart aches. It just aches. But in the best possible way.