"Hi," Mirabel says. She has never seen this kid before in her life, and she's pretty sure she's met most of the children in the Encanto. Still, there's always the chance she missed someone. She can't know everyone, she supposes.
The boy stares up at her. He doesn't answer, and Mirabel takes a second to try to figure out how old he is.
Looking him over, she decides he's about Antonio's size, which means he's probably close to her nephew's age as well.
"I'm Mirabel," she says.
Still no reply.
"Are you lost?" She waits and, after a moment, the boy shakes his head. "Not lost. Are you looking for Antonio?" That's the only reason she can think of for the kid to be here, but again, after a moment, he shakes his head. "Not looking for Antonio. Don't suppose you want to tell me who you are looking for? Or what?"
Mirabel is torn. She needs to go find her mom, so she can hopefully know what to do to help Bruno, who is most likely still passed out in the kitchen. But she also can't leave this little boy here by himself either.
Nor can she take him into the kitchen and leave him with Dolores and an unconscious man.
"Hmm, well, I'm going into town. Do you wanna, maybe, come with me?"
He looks at her for a long moment, as if sizing her up, before nodding. Mirabel holds out her arms to him, wondering if he'll let her carry him-because she really wants to find her mamá as quickly as possible, and five-year-olds just don't walk very fast.
Admittedly, that's only part of it. This kid is adorable, even though so far he hasn't uttered a word, and Mirabel just wants to pick him up and cuddle him and see if she can get him to smile.
So far his gaze has been far too solemn for a boy his age.
He hesitates for just a moment before reaching out, and she scoops him into her arms, propping him on her waist. He tenses a little bit, and she waits for him to settle. When he leans into her side and puts his head on her shoulder, she starts off.
It's not often Mirabel comes across a kid this quiet in the Encanto. Most of them tend to be loud and cheerful, full of energy and life.
This one-this little boy clinging to her shirt and watching the world around them with only mild interest, is outside the usual realm of her experience, and she's not entirely certain how to interact with him.
He should be talking by now, she's pretty sure. Antonio was two when he started forming words. Now, at five, he's capable of holding a full conversation, even if more complex ideas tend to go over his head.
This boy, though, has been almost eerily silent since she found him.
She finds Camilo before she reaches the market. He spends more time as himself these days, less time shifting, and seems happy about it, which makes Mirabel happy for him in return.
"Hey," he says. Frowning at the kid in her arms, he adds, "Who's this?"
"I have no idea," she admits. The boy is watching Camilo carefully. "He was in the courtyard. I thought maybe he was there to see Antonio, but he wasn't."
"Huh. What's your name, little guy?" Mirabel is not surprised when the boy doesn't answer.
"He doesn't seem to want to talk." She shrugs. "Anyway, I'm looking for Mamá. Bruno had a vision-sort of. Dolores is still with him, but..." she trails off.
Camilo looks worried. "That bad, huh?"
"Remember when he was having trouble, and they had to call in a doctor?" Camilo nods. "It kind of reminded me of that. It was different, though. Just one vision, and he passed out after."
Camilo takes a deep breath and looks at Mirabel. Then he looks at the kid in her arms. "I just saw Tía a few minutes ago, I can let her know. You look like you have your hands full."
"Thanks," she says, and she feels bad, like she's abandoning her uncle, but she also needs to figure out what to do with the boy in her arms, because she can't just leave him somewhere and hope his parents find him.
"Don't worry, I got this."
And she knows he does. Camilo's relationship with their tío may be a little odd at times, different than the rest of theirs, but she knows he cares a lot for the man.
"All right," she says to the quiet boy in her arms. "That just leaves us to figure out what to do with you. What are we going to do with you?"
No reply. Her uncle gets better responses from his rats.
"Hmm...You weren't at Casita to see Antonio, but maybe you came to see someone else? Probably not Camilo. Luisa, maybe? Were you looking for Luisa?"
Another shake of the head.
"Isabella, maybe?"
Another no.
"Dolores?"
No.
At least it doesn't seem to be taking him as long to answer. And at least she's figured out a way around the fact that he's not talking.
"Mi Papí? Um, Augustín?"
No.
"Félix?"
No.
"Julietta?"
He tilts his head slightly to the right, and Mirabel wonders if he recognizes the name, but the still shakes his head. When she suggests Tía Pepa, he shakes his head immediately, almost emphatically. And when she suggests Abuela, he hides his face in her shirt, still shaking his head no.
"So, nobody. Where you up there by accident or something?"
She decides to ask around, but nobody seems to know the boy, or his parents, though it's probably difficult to be sure, because he keeps hiding his face in her shirt when they approach new people.
She wishes Bruno were here, because he's fantastic with kids, and something about this small, shy little boy reminds her of him. She's pretty sure her uncle would be doing a better job right now than she is.
But Bruno's at home, probably still unconscious, recovering from the worst vision she's ever seen. And even if he is awake by now, he's probably not in any condition to deal with lost five-year-olds.
It's up to her.
Mirabel runs into Isabella and Luisa not five minutes later. The little boy tries to hide from them both, but her older sisters agree to help look for his parents.
They scour the village, but nobody even seems to know who the kid is, and finding his parents is apparently also out of the question.
They've been at it for several hours when Mirabel feels something wet on her hand and looks down. Green eyes look up at her, framed by a tear tracked face, and she has no idea how long he's been silently crying in her arms.
"Maybe we should head back." Mirabel decides. "Get something to eat, maybe take a nap. Maybe one of the grown-ups will be able to figure out where you came from."
The boy's eyes are half closed by the time they reach Casita, and Mirabel is sure he would already be asleep if he didn't keep pinching himself awake every couple of minutes. She's not sure why he's so dead set against falling asleep, but part of his arm is turning black and blue from his efforts.
It worries her that he can pinch himself that hard without making a sound.
She's watching, so she catches him this time, taking his hand in hers before he can pinch himself again. "Don't do that," she says lightly, trying not to make a big deal out of it, but the boy freezes in her arms anyway and looks down.
A couple of quick questions reveal that none of the adults in the house know who he is either, though her mother and aunt stare at him for a few minutes, both looking baffled, before shaking their heads.
She settles him down in the old nursery for a nap, because he's finally losing the fight to stay awake, now that he's stopped pinching himself. Mirabel settles herself in the rocking chair in the corner, reluctant to leave him alone.
The boy's been asleep for maybe ten minutes when he sits straight up, eyes wide, screaming his tiny lungs out. Downstairs, Mirabel hears someone shout, and something hit the ground.
She reaches out for the screaming child only for him to throw himself back against the wall, as far away from her as he can get, his hands digging frantically into his eyes as he sobs hysterically.
"Shhh! It's okay, it's okay!" She remembers Camilo going through night-terrors when he was younger, and Tía Pepa comforting him every night after he woke up screaming for nearly a month. "Remember? We met earlier? We're friends?"
Mirabel can hear clattering on the steps, and her father, of all people, shouting questions at someone, but ignores it.
The door opens with a bang, startling Mirabel, and terrifying the child even more.
Bruno stands there, his eyes glowing bright green, looking like he should still be unconscious on the kitchen floor. He looks at Mirabel, for a moment, confused and more than a little distraught, before his gaze drifts over to the boy cowering against the nursery wall.
"Miercoles."