When Mitch got to the place he'd woken up, a boy his age was curled up, crying.
"Hello?" Mitch said uncertainly. The boy looked at him.
"Are you the kid that was here last night?" the boy asked.
"Yes," Mitch said, "Are you the Bacca?"
"I am," the boy said, "I was hoping you'd come back here. My Mama Bacca chased me off!"
"My dad threw rocks at me," Mitch sniffed, realizing just how badly his head hurt. The boy seemed to argue with himself. He lifted a hand, then put it on the ground again.
"I'm Jerome," he finally said.
"I'm Mitch," Mitch replied. Jerome glanced at Mitch, then quickly moved his hand, positioning it behind Mitch's ear. His fingers moved back and forth, scratching the new Bacca behind the ear and Mitch practically melted. Jerome stopped and took his hand away.
"I figured you'd like that," he said, laughing a bit.
"Humans don't typically get scratches," Mitch admitted, "But that was amazing."
"I like ear scratches," Jerome said, "Most Baccas do." Mitch smiled, but the grin was quickly replaced by worry.
"What do we do now?" he asked, "I don't want to spend my whole life as a Bacca!"
"I don't want to be a human either," Jerome said, suddenly defensive, "But don't you diss Baccas!"
"Woah, woah!" Mitch said, "Calm down! I just meant I like being a human, and would rather stay a human!" Jerome took a breath, then blushed a bit.
"Sorry," he said, "My Daddy Bacca says people have no respect for Baccas."
"He might be right," Mitch admitted, rubbing his forehead.