A/N:

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Silver stood in the little room—bathroom, Callie had called it—as the woman moved a noisy machine over his fur. It blew hot air, and she said it would help dry him faster. He squeezed his eyes closed as she worked on the ruff on his chest. Whenever the blast of hot air hit his face, it reminded him of his world. And the fires. And how hot and dry the air was.

He tried to think of something else.

The shower had been . . . different. Water fell from the fixture above him, and it soaked him down to his skin. It was a strange feeling. Slippery and heavy, but warm and soothing at the same time. He had watched as it flowed down his body and into the tub, turning black and dark with the dirt from his fur.

Callie had supplied various things to let him clean himself—a cloth and some shampoo—and he had tried, but the whole concept was so foreign. He just didn't know what to do. Normally he just combed his fingers through his fur to dislodge the dust and ash he picked up in the wasteland. When he bothered, that is. More would always cover him, and sometimes he simply let it. It actually worked as effective cover, as he hid himself in the ruins of the buildings. Between the dark ash and his already gray fur, he blended in nicely to avoid detection.

In the end Callie had to help him shower, and she explained what she was doing as she worked. She wasn't angry, or impatient, and her voice held a soft, comforting quality he'd not often heard. Her hands on him felt odd at first, and he couldn't figure out why for a long moment, until it hit him.

She was gentle. She didn't pinch, or grab, or squeeze him roughly. Her fingers moved through his fur, allowing the water to soak every bit of him, before squeezing some shampoo into her hand. Then she was rubbing it into his fur, her nails gently scratching and massaging it in.

She spent a long time on his head, carefully washing the long spikes of quills and fur that framed his skull. Her fingers dragged down along the grain of his quills, and she carefully pulled any loose ones out to stack to the side. He looked at the growing pile with concern, and she had given him a gentle smile.

"Don't worry," she said, pulling another one free. "It's normal to lose hair, or quills as it were. You should see the shower when I'm done. Hair everywhere."

Silver had smiled at that, but said nothing. Her touch was relaxing, and he had to force himself not to lean into it. He stood as still as he could, allowing her to work as she needed.

When the time came to wash the more delicate areas of his head—namely, his face, muzzle and ears—she had used the cloth and a gentle touch. One hand held his head at the right angle, and the other used the cloth to carefully wipe away the dirt. She paid particular attention to his ears—she said they could become infected if not cleaned properly—and he tried to stand still as she ran the cloth inside them. It was a strange feeling, a little uncomfortable, but she had said they weren't as bad as she feared, so that was good.

He tried not to stare at her as she worked, but couldn't help it. No one had ever paid him this much attention, this gentle of attention, since his mama.

Callie locked eyes with him as she wiped down his muzzle, and smiled.

"Almost done," she said, her voice soft. "I'm only going to wash down to about where your bellybutton is. Think you can wash the rest?" He nodded. "Good. I'll turn away when it's your turn. Give you some privacy."

His muzzle burned hot, and he nodded. She continued washing to about his belly, and he laughed as her fingers unintentionally hit a ticklish spot. Soft apologies reached his ears and the fingers moved, much to his disappointment. It felt good to laugh.

Once she'd washed as far as she was comfortable, she poured some shampoo into his hand and pulled the slippery curtain hung next to the tub to give him privacy as he finished washing. He scrubbed as she had, moving slowly and carefully from his waist to his toes.

"Done," he said, and she pulled the curtain back.

"Nice," she said, pulling the water sprayer down from the wall. Silver blinked. He didn't know it could do that. "Let's get you all rinsed off."

Callie moved the sprayer up and down his body, moving her fingers through his fur—or directing him to in some cases—to fully rinse out the shampoo. Once she was satisfied he was rinsed well, she replaced the sprayer and turned off the water.

"And there you go," she said, hands on hips and a smile on her face. "Your first shower. How was it?"

Silver thought. His skin didn't seem as itchy, and he felt . . . different. Better. "It was nice."

"Good," she said, nodding. "Think you can do that all by yourself next time?"

He hesitated. Next time?

She was still looking at him, so he nodded. That seemed to satisfy her, because she smiled, reaching for a larger version of the cloth she had used to wash him with.

"Good deal. Now how about we get you all dried off?"

~X~X~X~

That had been a little while ago. The shorter fur on most of his body dried fairly quickly, but the longer spikes along his head, as well as the thicker, fluffy collar that circled his chest and back required more attention.

Now she worked on the ruff on his back, between his shoulders. They didn't talk, the dryer was making too much noise to do so easily, but Silver didn't mind. He was used to not talking. Sometimes it was safer.

After another few minutes, the dryer clicked off and the sudden silence drummed at his ears.

"There we go," Callie said, standing. She pulled the plug from the wall and wrapped the cord around the dryer. "Maybe not completely dry, but dry enough. I'll need to find a brush, though. You're looking a bit poofy."

At his questioning look, Callie hooked a thumb toward the mirror over the sink. He moved and found a very clean hedgehog looking back at him, with fur about three shades lighter than it was just a little while ago. The dryer had fluffed all his fur dramatically, and the ruff on his chest practically covered his muzzle. The forehead fan of spikes poofed to look like he was wearing a large silver hat.

The mirror hog opened his eyes wide, and a smile curled his lips. Silver laughed, pointing at the reflection.

"I look funny!"

"You look adorable," Callie said, tucking the dryer under the sink. "But we'll get you brushed out and tame those wild quills of yours. C'mon, kiddo."

With one last look at himself in the mirror, Silver nodded and followed her out.

~X~X~X~

"Silver," Callie asked, her voice soft. "Why did you smell like smoke?"

She sat on the couch, one leg tucked beneath her. Silver sat next to her, eyes closed, and angled slightly so she could work on brushing him out. She had wrapped his knees in white bandages after she'd dried him, and his feet dangled over the edge of the cushions. A water bottle sat in his lap, and every few seconds he took a drink.

He greatly enjoyed the feel of the brush in his fur. She'd pull the brush down, and her hand moved after it, helping to smooth the quills and fur. It was soothing.

"Everything smells like that." His voice was as soft as hers. "Everything's burned."

"Burned?"

He nodded. "Something happened a long time ago, before I was born. My mama said there was fighting, and some big bombs fell. There was fire everywhere, and it burned almost everything. Even the sky. There aren't many plants, and food is really hard to find. Water's even harder. When you find it you have to protect it from the bandits. They'll . . . hurt you and then take it for themselves."

Her hand paused for a second, and he opened his eyes as he turned to her. An expression he couldn't read was on her face. "What?"

She blinked, offering him a little smile. "Nothing." She gently tapped his head and he turned forward again. The brush reappeared in its journey down his quills. "So, your mama. Is she maybe waiting for you back on your world?"

The question took him off-guard, and he froze. A mental image appeared, of his mama, waiting, looking worried because he was gone. It was stupid, this image, because she wasn't waiting or worrying. Not anymore.

Silver pulled his shoulders up. Wrapped his arms around himself. Left hand rose to stroke his muzzle.

He didn't like to think about that. He'd been so little. Couldn't control these powers. His mama . . .

Hands appeared on his arms, just below the shoulders. Firm, but gentle.

"I'm sorry, sweetie." Her voice was soft, almost a whisper, near his ear. "Breathe. You don't have to tell me if it hurts. I'm sorry I asked. Let's talk about something else, okay?"

Silver sucked in a shuddery breath, willing his tears to go away before too many fell. He nodded.

"Why don't you ask me something?" she said, and her hands moved up and down his arms. "What do you wanna know?"

There was so much he'd wondered about just a little while ago, so much he didn't understand. But right now he couldn't think of anything but his mama. He didn't want to think about her. About how much she loved him. How much he loved her. About how much he missed her, and the ache in his heart when he thought about her too much.

He forced his eyes open and they landed on the water bottle in his lap.

"The water," he blurted, dragging an arm across his eyes. He released a shaky breath. "H-how is it so clean?"

"Modern filtering technology," she said, reaching around him to pick up his bottle. She held it up so they could both watch it swirl inside. "When it rains, the water seeps into the ground, flowing in rivers and streams, eventually ending up in big processing plants, where they clean it and route it through pipes to people's homes." She paused. "Or something like that. I think that's the gist anyway." She gave a short laugh. "I honestly don't know how it's really done. Maybe we should look it up online."

He sniffed and pulled a hand below his nose. Some of those words didn't make any sense to him. But one sounded somewhat familiar. "Rain?"

"Yeah, it's when water falls from the sky." She handed the bottle back, before leaning to the side to look at him. "You don't have rain?"

Silver shook his head. "Water doesn't fall from the sky where I'm from."

There was that look again. The one he couldn't identify. Her brow furrowed and she seemed to study him, as though he were lying. "Your world sounds really . . . hard."

He shrugged. To be honest, he'd never really thought about it. It was all he'd ever known.

"You've never seen rain?" He shook his head. "Or clean water?" Another shake. "Have you ever had a full belly?"

He hesitated. Chewed his cheek as he thought for a second. Then shook his head again.

She pulled her lips into a tight line. "Silver . . . how long have you been on your own?"

He dropped his eyes to the water bottle. A shrug. "A while."

"How long's 'a while'?"

He shrugged again. Took a long sip.

"How old are you?"

"Um . . ." He narrowed his eyes to think. "I dunno. Ten, maybe? Or eleven? It's hard to keep track. I think I was five when-" He pulled his lips tight before taking another sip.

". . . when you lost your mama?" Callie prodded gently.

Silver shrank again, pulling the water bottle close to his chest. No. Don't talk about that. Don't think about that. Don't cry again.

Why did she want to know that? Why did she care?

"Oh sweetie. I'm so sorry. You've been all by yourself this whole time?"

He lowered his eyes to the water bottle, taking a long, slow drink.

Not exactly by himself. Not always. Sometimes he'd traveled with others. Sometimes. But that had been a while ago. Something usually happened, and they'd leave him. Then he'd be wandering all by himself. Until he was captured again. Until he was back at that doctor's lab.

But that had been worse.

After a long moment, he shook his head. "Sometimes a group took me in, and I would stay with them for a while. But if there wasn't enough food for everyone . . ." He shrugged.

It took Callie a few seconds to respond. "That's a horrible reason to kick a little boy out on his own." Her voice held a tinge of anger, and he ducked his head.

There were other reasons he'd been kicked out of groups. Like if he showed his powers and frightened them too badly, or if the reward for turning him back in to the doctor proved too tempting.

No matter what the trigger was, he usually ended up wandering the ruined landscape all by himself. After a while, he actually preferred it that way. It was better to be scared, hungry, and alone than to trust the wrong person. He got the feeling he was small for his age, which, ironically, made him a bigger target. An easy mark.

And his powers scared others. Scared him. Like that day all those years ago. With Mama.

"That's terrible," she said, pulling him from his thoughts. She shook her head. "You poor baby."

He shrugged, his muzzle burning. "I took care of myself."

"You shouldn't have had to."

Another shrug. "Just how things were."

Callie sat still for a long moment, watching him as he held his water bottle. His hands clenched on the plastic, and it crinkled under his grip. He forced himself to relax.

He gazed at the impossibly clear liquid inside this strange container, and watched as it sloshed and rippled against the walls. His belly churned, but not from the water he had drunk. Her eyes were on him, and the warmth in his muzzle increased.

She had been so nice to him. Given him shelter, food, water, and even washed his fur. His debt to her was growing with each passing minute.

Best to find out what she wanted now, before he owed her too much.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked, his voice soft.

In his peripheral vision he saw her head tilt. "What?"

A lump formed in his throat and he swallowed past it. He carefully placed his bottle on the little table next to the couch, keeping his eyes cast down. "As payment. For the food and clean water. What do you want me to do?"

Silence settled over them, and he figured she was considering his tasks. Most likely, since she'd shared such clean water with him, and been so nice to him, whatever she wanted was dangerous. No one acted that nice. No one just gives someone food and water. Sure this world seemed different, but there still had to be some exchange for precious things.

"Silver," she started, her voice soft. "Did others make you do things just so you could eat?"

He nodded, eyes still firmly in his lap. He ran a thumb over the circle on his other palm.

"What kind of things?"

He furrowed his brow. "Um . . . sometimes steal from other gangs. I was usually the smallest, so I could sneak better than the adults. Sometimes I had to carry stuff, and they'd get mad if I dropped it." He bit his lip. "Sometimes . . . uh . . . sometimes they'd . . ."

"Silver," she said, and he flinched. Her tone was flat. Controlled. "Did they ever . . . hurt you? Or make you hurt anyone else?"

The hands in his lap went watery as tears brimmed. He blinked, sending them tumbling down his muzzle. "Sometimes," he said, his voice soft. "If I dropped too much, or didn't steal as much as they wanted . . . sometimes they would yell at me. Hurt me. And I wasn't allowed to eat until I did better." He swallowed hard. "And they wanted me to. Hurt people. But I couldn't. Stealing was okay, no one got hurt, but I didn't want to . . . I couldn't . . ."

Uttering a squeak in the back of his throat, Silver pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. A lie. He had hurt people, just not intentionally. Because these powers of his were so dangerous, so terrible, sometimes they got away from him and caused people to be hurt. Sometimes bad people, rival gangs who tried to hurt him first. But sometimes the people he hurt didn't deserve it. They had just been in the wrong place, wrong time.

His mama's face came to mind again. He pressed his hands harder against his eyes, until stars flashed behind his lids.

Movement nearby, and then he was moving, a pair of soft hands turning him around. Then those hands were on his, pulling them away from his eyes.

"Hey," Callie said, a kind smile on her lips. "Shhh, take a breath. C'mon, sweetie, you're safe. It's okay. No one's going to hurt you anymore."

She held his hands in hers, and rubbed her thumbs across the backs in gentle arcs. He looked at her, amber eyes locked with her blue-green, as more tears trickled down his cheeks.

"Whatever you want me to do, I'll do it," he said, his voice a harsh whisper. "You've been so nice and let me eat and gave me such clean water, I owe you for all that. But don't make me hurt anyone. Please. I don't want to-"

"Silver, honey," she said, and her face changed. It looked more sad now. "You don't have to do anything. I didn't give you food and water expecting any payment."

His brow furrowed. "You didn't?" She shook her head. "Then . . . why?"

She shrugged. "You were hurt and needed help. So I did. You were hungry and needed fed. So I did. I try to be a good person, and that's just what good people do. I couldn't just leave you out in my yard, all by yourself."

He understood her words, but they contrasted so completely with the life he'd known since he was little they almost made no sense. She did things just because it was 'good'? She didn't expect anything from him?

No. This had to be a trick. He'd been through this before. One group had taken great delight in telling him one thing while meaning another, and then punishing him when he believed what they said. Almost like it was a game to them. That was the one and only time he'd left a group on his own.

If she didn't want anything in return, was he expected to leave now? Was this kind of an 'I helped you, now get lost' type of thing?

"Do I have to go, then?" he asked, his voice soft. "You helped and gave me food. You were nice. Is . . . is that all you wanted?"

Her brows furrowed, and she gave his hands a squeeze. "Oh, you poor, sweet boy. What kind of horrible world did you come from?"

He didn't respond. But the feel of her hands on his was comforting. They were soft. Warm. Her whole demeanor was relaxed. Kind.

Now she released one of his hands and reached up. The move startled him, and he froze, but when her hand rested on the left side of his muzzle, her thumb gently rubbing away the tears that had wet the fur there, he relaxed. A smile curled her lips.

"Silver, you are welcome to stay here as long as you like," she said, her voice soft. "You don't have to be afraid, or worry about going without food or water. You're safe here. And trust me kiddo, as long as you're under my roof, I won't let anything happen to you. You have my word on that."

He furrowed his brow, pulling away from her. "But . . ." This whole thing confused him terribly. There had to be something she wanted from him. Had to be. "But what do I do? I can't just . . . just stay here. For nothing. Food is hard to find! Water is so so precious! What do you want me to do?"

In his agitation, he'd shifted around to sit on his knees. His foot bumped against the side table, and his water bottle toppled, rolling toward the edge as it left a thin trail of liquid.

Silver uttered a sharp gasp as the bottle neared the edge and he turned. He held up his hands, that same cyan light appearing and freezing the bottle in place. With some effort, he redirected the bottle back upright, and set it back down properly.

He uttered a soft sigh of relief and turned back around. Freezing stuff was one thing. It happened almost automatically, like a reflex, sometimes. Moving things—gently and delicately—was something else. Something he struggled with.

Callie was watching him, a small smile on her lips. Dropping his eyes, he fidgeted with his hands.

"That's a neat power you've got," she said, her voice soft. He shrugged. "How do you do that?"

An alarm started ringing in his head. No one was interested in his power. Not unless they wanted it. Or wanted him to use it for their needs. Maybe her true motivations were starting to show. It was making sense now. Her kindness was just a cover. A lie. Pretend to be nice and then ask him to use his power to 'help' her do something.

But she sat quietly, watching him. Ulterior motives or not, it would be rude not to answer.

"I just think about something moving and it does," he said, his voice soft. He bit his lip. "I . . . I don't like using it."

She tilted her head. "Why not?"

He dipped his head. "It's scary. And dangerous."

Silence for a long moment.

"Does anyone else have powers like that on your world?"

Silver shook his head. "Just me."

"Then that makes you a very special boy with a very special power."

He wrapped his arms around himself, his left hand going to his muzzle again. The doctor had said something very similar. Then he had done bad things. Painful things. All in order to study that power.

Now she'll keep talking about it. Ask questions, want him to show her more of it, tell him to use it for-

"Are you still hungry?"

The question startled him out of his thoughts, and he turned to look at her. "Huh?"

"Food," she said with a slight grin. "Want some?"

He hesitated for a few seconds, his brow furrowing. "Don't you . . . wanna talk about my power more?"

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "Not really. Do you?" He shook his head, earning a shrug from her. "Then we won't. Don't know about you, but my belly's grumbling. You like chicken?"

He furrowed his brow. "I dunno."

"Well I guess we'll find out, won't we?" she asked, pushing herself off the couch and heading toward the kitchen.

~X~X~X~

Callie pulled a pan from a cabinet, and had to force herself to set it down on the stove gently. Silver's tales of his world had left her with an odd mixture of sadness and anger, and right now, anger was starting to push its way to the fore.

He'd been treated so horribly. No wonder he was so skittish. No wonder he was skin and bones. The kid was practically starved unless he did something 'worthwhile' to 'earn' the right to eat!

So, mental checklist: he's likely malnourished and dehydrated. Scared of everything. Expected to be put to work somehow just to 'repay' access to basic necessities, like food, water, and shelter. Hugs himself and strokes his muzzle to self-soothe, which likely means he's touch-starved. Shoes were too small. Gloves in tatters. Filthy. Alone.

That last word glared at her. Screamed at her.

Alone.

He was a little boy, all alone in a horrible world, and everyone he encountered mistreated him.

Her hand tightened on the pan handle, and she resisted the urge to smash it against the counter again and again. Barely.

Distraction. She needed a distraction or else she'd get herself all pissed off on his behalf. That wouldn't be productive. She couldn't exactly go to his world and bust some heads. As much as she wanted to.

Her phone sat on the island, and she pulled it to her and flicked open the SiriusXM app. A quick tap and music chased the quiet from the kitchen—an old Mama's and Papa's song. She hummed along with it as she pulled the chicken from the fridge.

She wasn't sure where he would end up, or who would take him in, but she swore that she'd make sure he'd never have to return to his world.

~X~X~X~

Silver sat where he was for a long moment, watching as she moved around in the kitchen and pulled various things from cabinets and a tall metal box with a little light inside. Music suddenly filled the air, and she hummed to herself along with it.

This was different. She seemed thoroughly uninterested in talking about his power. Was this a trick? Fool him into thinking she didn't want it, then try to get him to help her do whatever she needed with it?

But, now that he thought about it, she didn't seem all that surprised that he had powers to begin with. Sure, she seemed a bit scared when he'd frozen her, but that probably had more to do with the fact that she suddenly couldn't move. He supposed he'd feel scared if he was suddenly frozen, too.

And when they had talked about his power just now, she seemed honestly . . . curious about it. Like it was just something she found interesting, and nothing more. Whenever anyone had discovered his powers in the past, they wore a strange look when they talked about it. Well, when they weren't scared, that is. It looked a little like hunger, but different. Eager, he supposed was a close enough description. Those were the people who wanted him to use it to hurt others.

So maybe she wasn't trying to trick him? Maybe she really did want to take care of him, and protect him, and didn't want anything in return?

Silver furrowed his brow, giving his head a little shake. This world was confusing. But it would be so nice if it really was nicer than his. If the people weren't ready to hurt you or chase you away because they're scared, or didn't want to share what they had. If he didn't have to constantly watch his back, or worry about being recaptured by that horrible doctor.

And it would be even nicer if he could actually trust someone. Really, completely trust someone. He was tired of running. Tired of being alone.

Slipping off the couch, Silver grabbed his water bottle and slowly walked toward the kitchen.

~X~X~X~

Outside, the little drone uttered a soft beep, its camera lens whirling to focus on the small creature moving inside the house. The machine had gotten some power readings earlier, but now had visual confirmation.

A panel slid open in its back, and a small portal blinked into existence. The drone transmitted data through, and waited a moment as new orders came back.

Continue observing. Gather intel. Evaluate threats.

It uttered a soft beep in confirmation, and the portal closed.

It continued its surveillance.

~X~X~X~

Ordinarily, Callie made quick, easy meals for herself for supper. It was just her, why go through a bunch of hassle when the microwave was invented for a reason?

But hosting a kid from what sounded like a post-apocalyptic world, who had most likely never had a hot meal in his life, meant she needed to do better than macaroni and cheese and microwaved broccoli.

And besides, just because she didn't like to cook, didn't mean she couldn't.

Silver walked into the kitchen as she trimmed the chicken, and she gave him a smile. "Here to keep me company, little dude?"

The hedgehog blinked up at her, his large amber eyes flicking here and there as he took in the sights of the kitchen. "Are you sure you don't want me to do anything?"

"Like I said," she said with a shrug, sprinkling some seasoning on the freshly trimmed chicken breasts. "Keep me company." She nodded toward a stool on the other side of the island. "Have a seat."

Silver stood on his tip-toes to put the water bottle on the counter, and climbed onto the stool. He sat stiffly, not sure what to do with his hands.

"Relax, kiddo," she said, moving the breasts to the pan on the stove. "Any other questions you've got for me? What do you wanna talk about?"

The boy pulled his lips tight, before looking over the food spread on the counter. "What are you making?"

"Grilled chicken, with some steamed broccoli and carrots, and a side of mashed potatoes."

"Oh."

Callie had a suspicion the boy had no idea what any of those things were, so she offered him a baby carrot to munch on as she cooked. He hesitated for a few seconds, his eyes flicking between the offered veggie and her face, but finally accepted it and took a bite. A smile curled his lips as he chewed.

"I want you to eat as much as you like tonight," she told him, hauling the steamer out from under the counter. She dumped a bunch of carrots in one basket, and the trimmed florets of broccoli into another. "And I'm telling you again, I'm not expecting any type of payment. You're a kid, and kids should have access to food and water without feeling like they need to earn it. Hell, everyone should. But kids especially." She plugged in the steamer, and turned back to start peeling potatoes. "And I will not allow any kid in my house to go hungry."

Silver tossed the rest of the carrot into his mouth, his face thoughtful. He pulled his water bottle to him as he swallowed. "Are you a mom?"

The redhead pulled her lips tight. "No."

"You sound a little like one," he said, taking a drink from his bottle. He tilted it up, letting every last drop fall into his mouth. He placed the empty bottle on the counter, wiping his mouth with an arm.

"I spend a lot of time with kids, that's all," she said, tossing the peeled potatoes into a pot of water. "Three in particular. I think you'll like them."

"Oh?"

"Mmhmm. You've all got a lot in common."

The boy furrowed his brow, tilting his head to the side. It was obviously confusing for him, but he didn't say anything.

Callie finished peeling the potatoes and put the pot on to boil.

"Who was that man from before?"

She cast him an arched eyebrow. "Wade? He's the town deputy. He came here to protect me because he thought you were dangerous."

The boy's face fell, and he curled in on himself, his arms clutching each other. "Oh."

Callie just about kicked herself. This kid didn't seem to understand sarcasm, and was already feeling uncomfortable being here. Seemed like practically every time she opened her mouth, she said something unintentionally hurtful. Now he sat hugging himself, that left hand rising to stroke his muzzle again.

"Hey," she said, rounding the island to him. "Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply that you really were dangerous. Just that-"

"I am, though," he said, his voice soft. Trembling. His eyes had gone shiny again. "This power is dangerous. It hurts people. And I can't control it very well. I hate it." He closed his eyes as tears trickled down his cheeks. "I wish I didn't have it."

"Hey," she said again, twisting the stool so he was facing her. She hunkered down, coming more eye level with him. "Silver. Look at me."

He shook his head, eyes still tightly closed. "I should go. I don't belong here. I don't . . ." He took in a shuddery breath. "You've been so nice . . . I don't want to hurt you by accident."

Callie took gentle hold of the hand stroking his muzzle. He peeked his eyes open as she pulled it to her, and sandwiched it between her own hands.

"Silver, you are not dangerous," she said, her voice soft. "From what I've seen, you're a gentle, sweet, scared little boy who hasn't been treated very well. Yes, your power is incredible, but you shouldn't be scared of it. It's part of you."

"It's dangerous," he said, his voice a harsh whisper.

"Anything can be dangerous if it's not properly controlled. Have you tried learning how to use it better?" He bit his lip and shook his head. "Would you like to?"

His eyes went wide. "I shouldn't."

"Why not?"

The boy opened his mouth to respond, but when nothing came out, he closed it again.

"Honey, this is your power," Callie said, giving his hand a squeeze. "It's always going to be with you. And it may get stronger as you get older."

A look of pure terror crossed his face at that. He'd apparently never considered that possibility. "Stronger?"

She nodded. "It could. So maybe learning how to control it now is a good idea, huh?"

He sat quietly for a long moment, chewing his bottom lip. "How?"

"How does someone learn to do anything?" she said with a smile and a shrug. "Practice. Lots and lots of practice. I'll help you as much as I can, but I want to introduce you to the kids I talked about before. I'm sure they can help too."

Silver furrowed his brow, his face thoughtful. The fingers of his trapped hand wiggled slightly, as if liking the warmth and pressure of her hands on his.

"Okay," he said, his voice soft. "I . . . I guess it's a good idea to try and learn how to control it."

She gave him a kind smile. "Good. I don't want you to be afraid of your power, sweetie. I think learning how to use it properly would help you feel better about it. Right?"

He nodded, a small smile curling his lips. "I guess."

"You guess," she said, releasing his hand to wipe his tears away. "No more tears, okay? I feel like all I've been doing is making you upset and cry all afternoon."

A blush turned his muzzle pink, but that smile was still on his lips. "Sorry."

"Nah, don't be sorry, kiddo," Callie said, pushing herself to her feet. "You've had a really wild day. Waking up in a strange world that's so different from the one you knew, with weird looking creatures who must seem giant to you. You're handling it better than I probably would."

He uttered a soft laugh, as he pulled his hand back to wrap around himself again. Callie tilted her head, a soft smile on her lips.

"Do you want a hug, honey?"

His arms pulled tighter around himself. He looked up at her with wide amber eyes.

She held her arms out. "I've got one ready if you want it."

The boy pulled his lip in again, as he looked between her offered arms. He curled in on himself slightly, before slowly unwrapping his arms and reaching for her. Uncertainty slowed his movement, and he withdrew, looking up to catch her gaze.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice soft, barely above a whisper.

Callie's heart squeezed. This poor boy was so hungry for touch, for affection, but his past held him back. She saw little hints of the boy he was, deep in his heart, but his world had forced him to put up a shell around that side of him. Keep him hidden away.

Touch was bad. Kindness was suspect. His power was dangerous, and only used to destroy.

It pained her to see such a hurt little boy.

He slowly reached for her again, and she didn't hesitate to move in the rest of the way. She scooped him up, pulling him close and wrapping her arms around him tightly. She received a poke or two from his quills, but quickly readjusted to a safer position.

Silver froze at the movement, and hung awkwardly in her arms for a few seconds. Then slowly, ever so slowly, he relaxed, wrapping his arms around her neck. He trembled, his whole body shaking. After a long moment, he sighed—a long, shaky exhale that released the rest of the tension in his body. The trembling faded, and now he pressed against her, his little heart beating a samba against her chest.

A soft sniffle sounded against her neck, and a wetness appeared as his tears feel onto her. Every now and then a soft whine would reach her ears, his chest hitching with silent sobs.

Callie rubbed his back, running her fingers through the thick ruff there, rocking her body side to side. She whispered soothing words to him, all the while keeping her arms wrapped around him.

This boy. This scared, lonely, unloved boy.

He was never going back to his world.

Never.

~X~X~X~

Silver wasn't exactly sure why he was crying. He wasn't sad. He wasn't upset. He wasn't lonely or scared or angry or hungry. In fact, it took him a few minutes to recognize what exactly he was feeling.

Happiness? Relief? Comfort? He wasn't exactly sure of the right term. It had been a long, long time since he'd hugged anyone. Since anyone had actually touched him in a kind way instead of a painful one.

But having her arms wrapped around him like this felt so, so nice. She was soft, and warm, and he felt so cozy and safe. She rocked him, and the swaying motion brought a memory of being little, so very little, and being in his mama's arms. She'd rock him like this, and talk gently to him, and sometimes even sing. That was nice. Before things had turned bad. Before his powers had shown themselves for the first time. Before the chase started. And then all they could do was run.

He squeezed his eyes tightly, burying his face into the hollow of Callie's neck. Stop thinking about that. It had been a long time ago, it's done, thinking about it only brought pain.

Silver forced himself to focus on the present. The feel of Callie's hand on his back, running through his back fluff. The warmth of her skin against his cheek. The sound of her voice, so soft and soothing. The sizzle of the chicken cooking in the pan. He licked his lips, and tasted the salt from the tears on his muzzle.

All these things snapped him back to the moment, and he clung to this woman, this beacon of kindness and softness against the constant hard cruelty of his life. She moved back around the island to tend to the chicken, and still he clung to her. He didn't want to let go. Couldn't let go. Not yet.

The heaviness in his belly—the fear and guilt and worry—lightened, and he allowed himself to feel the tiniest bit of hope. To believe her when she said he was safe. That she'd take care of him. Protect him.

Callie didn't try to put him down for what felt like a long time. She swayed gently, humming along with whatever music was playing. The only adjustment she did in regards to him was to move him slightly so that he sat on her hip while she tended to the food. She stirred the potatoes and turned the chicken with one hand, while her other held him firmly against her.

Silver didn't mind. He leaned into her, holding her tight and stealing little glances up as she cooked. Sometimes she'd notice him looking and give him a little smile, the arm holding him squeezing tight.

All too soon, she walked back around the island.

"Okay, kiddo," she said, stopping next to the table. "I'm gonna have to put you down now. We're getting close and I'll need both hands to put the finishing touches on."

Disappointment drooped his shoulders, but he nodded. "Okay."

She gave him a smile as she plopped him into a chair. "Oh, cheer up, little man. We've got food coming."

He smiled at that, and the smells coming from the other side of the kitchen set his belly grumbling. She moved in a quick pace between the island and other counter, mashing the potatoes, pulling the chicken out of the pan, and scooping the steamed veggies from their baskets.

After a few minutes of this frantic movement, she brought two plates piled with steaming food to the table. Two cups of water came next.

Silver stared at his plate. He'd never seen so much food in one place before.

"Is this all for me?"

"You betcha," she said, picking up her fork. "More where that came from, too, if you're still hungry. It's still hot, so be careful. But dig in, kiddo!"

She didn't have to tell him twice.