Victoria awoke the next morning and was confused by the room around her. The bed was enormous; it stretched nearly two feet on either side of her and almost nine feet from the headboard to the footboard. For a moment, she wondered where she was—but, remembering, she smiled and crawled to the edge of the bed. It was four and a half feet above the ground.
She was trying to figure out how to get down without hurting herself when Xarral came in. He was carrying a large cardboard box in which a neighbor had dropped off—"the basic things you need for raising a kid," he'd explained. Seeing Victoria, he put the box down on the bed. Good morning, little one, he said.
She beamed up at him. "Good morning," she said.
His eyes narrowed faintly and the bony plates where his mouth would have been pinched, a Protoss smile; he sat beside her. Come here, he said, gesturing. Victoria crawled onto his broad lap. Blinking—that wasn't what he had in mind, but it worked—he studied the contents of the box. After a moment's deliberation, he selected a long-handled hair brush and gingerly began working it through the girl's tattered locks.
Victoria relaxed even more, hunching over to give him total access to her head. Once she had brushed her own hair, and had not done a very good job. Now, under Xarral's rough but steady treatment, her long, brown curls began to straighten, dangling down to her waist. "That feels good," she murmured.
Does it, he replied. I would not know.
She peered up at him. "You have hair," she said.
No. These are nerve cords. They allow me to speak telepathically.
"Te-le-paff-eh-cly?"
In your mind. Xarral set her on the floor and stood. Remove your clothes. I will be back in a moment. He walked out of the bedroom. Victoria heard water running; eagerly she stripped to the bare skin. How long had it been since she had a real bath? She didn't know how to wash herself. All she knew was to mimic the movements of her mother in the bathtub.
After a moment the Protoss came back and led her to the washroom, where he had filled the tub only halfway to accommodate her tiny body. He lifted her inside, and then took a smaller wooden bucket and dumped the contents over her head. She laughed, raising her arms above her head and splashing the water. Xarral picked up the soap and lathered it, and then did the same to her little head. His claws rasped her scalp.
"Ow," she said. Xarral gentled his large hands, curling his fingers so the points of his blunt claws did not scrape her. When he was done washing her hair, he rinsed her, and then soaked the rest of her body in order to wash that, too.
At last she stood in the vast solid wooden bath with the water up to her knees, finally clean. "I liked that," she said, giggling.
Indeed.
"Yep!"
For now, you will have to wear nothing until I receive some clothes. Xarral stepped back, studying her. And I will cut your hair also.
"But I like long hair," Victoria complained, lifting her arms to be taken out of the tub.
When you are old enough to clean yourself, you may grow it out, he said firmly, and there was no more discussion about it. But when she viewed herself in the mirror, with hair cut to only two inches from her skull, she beamed up at her new father. "I like it," she exclaimed.
I am glad. Xarral cleaned up the rest of the hair—all seven inches of it—and threw it away outside. Victoria ran after him. "It's nice and warm out," she said cheerfully.
It is indeed, he replied, staring down at her. We shall go into the town and get you some more clothes, he added. You do not need to wear something to town, yes?
"Nah. It's warm."
He was thinking of what the townspeople might think if they were to go down there without her having any clothes on, but dismissed the idea. On warm days some parents, both Protoss and Terran, allowed their younger children to parade around naked and no one complained. Victoria should be no different. He picked her up and started the short walk to the little settlement.
Xarral had no idea why he took in the child, just as he had no idea why he had volunteered to contact her. Perhaps it was because of the loneliness he had experienced while by himself. He had lost his family—his mate and his brother—and friends to the Zerg Wars, five hundred years ago, and his newly-made friends to the Great Hybrid Battle, and had been alone ever since. When he was going to give away the child, he had felt a sudden urge to keep her when she had mentally expressed her fear with going with the strange couple. It had overwhelmed him—since he and his mate had never had any time for children (she had been killed in battle by Zerg when she was pregnant), he supposed it was because he had almost been a father, then had lost his child and now mourned for another. And when he had first seen her, he knew it had to be—there was a connection between them, as if a faint memory had been stirred.
Besides, he reasoned, he had grown close while talking to the young Terran through their messages.
As Xarral and Victoria walked through the town, a few people stopped them to get a look at the new child. Protoss wondered why he took her in; Terrans cooed over her cuteness.
They entered a little clothing store, run by two men named Walter and K'lore. Xarral had met them before; he usually mended his old clothes, but when some clothing was completely ruined he came to them for more.
"Good morning, Xarral," Walter called as he strode in. "And who's this?"
My…daughter. She requires clothes.
"No kidding." He gestured for Xarral to put the naked girl down, and took out a little device. "This is a body scanner," he explained to Victoria, who had shrunk up to Xarral's legs. She did not even come up to his first knee. "It'll measure you so I know what size you are."
It is all right, little one, the Protoss said. He will not harm you.
Tentatively she came forward, and Walter knelt to run the scanner across her waist, from shoulder to ankle, and across her chest. He stood. "K'lore!" he called.
Yes?
"Could you get me a few size four outfits?"
Protoss or Terran?
"For a Terran; a little girl. I need about seven. Yes?" he glanced at Xarral, who nodded. "Yeah; seven." He smiled down at Victoria, then asked the Protoss, "Your daughter?"
Yes. She came from beyond the warp gate.
"Oh… I see." K'lore came from the back of the shop, carrying the asked-for clothes over one arm. "Okay, here we go. Can you dress yourself?"
Victoria nodded shyly, and Walter handed her the first outfit; a bright green jacket and pants with a pink t-shirt. She put them on, and stood quietly under the adults' critical eye.
"I think she needs darker colors," Walter murmured.
I believe so, too, his Protoss partner agreed. Very well. He handed over a dark purple coverall with a blue shirt, which Walter proclaimed was perfect. They went through the small pile of clothes slowly, with Walter and K'lore either saying it fit her complexion or it didn't.
Finally, perceiving that Victoria had had enough, Xarral put his foot down and said to choose the clothes and be quick about it.
They did. Victoria ended up wearing jean shorts and a white tank top. Xarral was laden with a huge bag, this one full of clothes; underwear, and a pair of pajamas, socks and shoes. That earned them a few stares, but neither of them cared. And since Xarral did not have a free arm, he could not carry the little girl trotting along by his feet. They went from store to store, picking out things he thought she might need, Victoria taking nearly six steps to Xarral's one. At last they made it back to his house, where Victoria promptly dropped to the floor of the bedroom. "You walk fast," she complained.
He picked her up so quickly she gasped. You walk slowly.
"Do not!"
You do.
"Nuh-uh!" She giggled as he swung her up to sit on his shoulder.
You will need a name, he said thoughtfully, wincing as she grabbed his nerve cords for balance.
"I have one," she replied, looking down at his head in confusion.
Your old life is over. Your name is inconsequential.
"What does that mean?"
It is of no use to you now. Xarral moved the clothes bag to the corner slowly as not to knock the little girl off her precarious perch. He had cleared a small table in his room the night before, and now he began assembling a few of the things from the doodad box on it. Hair brush, tooth cleaner, face cloth, hair soap, nightlight, a pad of paper and a few pencils, crayons, and markers… all the while he was thinking. What name would Victoria like and would fit her at the same time? Do you like your name?
"Not really…"
She was brave, this one, not afraid to speak her mind, even to those she was not supposed to. Brave. She was a brave child. Then you shall be Azalel. "Aza" for brave; "lel" for child, feminine form. Azalel teetered on his shoulder; he put up a hand to steady her.
"Aza-lel?"
Yes. It means 'brave child.'
She was silent, and he could feel her contemplating. He reached up and pulled her from her perch, holding her directly in front of him. Do you like the name, little one?
Suddenly she smiled and reached up, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck. "Yep! Love it, Father."
Father. Xarral impulsively tightened his arms around her, hugging her to his broad chest. Any doubt that was left from deciding the little girl would stay with him vanished. He swore he would love her for the rest of his days, just as if she was borne of his mate and from his seed.
He must have transmitted this decision to little Azalel, because she snuggled even closer against him. Her mind became quiet, tender; she sighed contentedly.
They stayed that way for a long time. After half an hour of quiet contemplation Azalel dozed off, exhausted from their day's adventures. Xarral put her down in the little wooden bed they had bought downtown, and then he sat down on a high, angular chair made specifically for Protoss to watch her breathe.
Something tugged at his thoughts: a memory sprang up in his mind—a Terran girl, crouched over a Protoss warrior, weeping as he spoke to her then gave his spirit up to the gods and disappearing… a girl who had brown eyes and brown hair, bloody and tattered…
The battle of Shakuras… something was amiss here, something was familiar…
Azalel shifted in her sleep. Right now, to her, nothing mattered but the fact that she was safe, warm, loved, and happy. It was more than she received at her old home, with her inattentive parents.
And right now, he decided, that was all he needed. He would deal with the memory when the time came.