Chapter 5

New Arrival

He was dashing through the forest, his younger brother tucked protectively in his arms. The air was permeated with smoke from the torch he'd hurled across the field to prevent from being chased.

He knew his plan was close to failing when an arrow was shot in the tree he'd just passed, and was followed by others. He ducked, keeping Rafael close to his chest.

He felt the arrow aimed at him a moment before it got embedded in his shin. He gritted his teeth and grunted, collapsing to his knees. Rafael looked up at him with a tear-streaked face, his voice quivering, "Brother?"

Carlos put him on the ground. "Rafi, you have to listen to me. Don't look back. Just run!"

"I'm not leaving you here!"

"I'm hurt, they'll catch up to me. But you have to save yourself. I want you to be safe. Mamá, Papá and Alejandra would have wanted the same."

The boy sobbed, the sounds wrenching his brother's heartstrings. "I'm not… leaving you."

Carlos pressed their foreheads together. "Shh. I'll always be with you. And I'll come find you, I promise. One day, we'll be together again, no matter how long it takes. I love you."

"I love you too, hermano."

Carlos kissed his forehead, his lips lingering on his skin, and hugged him closely before releasing him.

Voices, screams and footsteps were approaching like wildfire.

"Go!"

Rafael didn't move.

Carlos shoved him ahead. "GO! Don't look back, only ahead! I'll find you!"

Rafael raced through the bushes and trees, daring one last glance at his brother. A smile full of relief and love was the last thing he saw of him…

Carlos awoke with a startled gasp, cold sweat pouring down his back.

He threw his legs over the edge of the worn-out mattress in his small apartment, rubbing his forehead and trying to soothe himself.

Rafael was alright, and he was as well. They were safe in Encanto.

He strode to the windows, opening them widely to breathe the fresh air. The breeze played in his hair, and the beautiful sight of the moon was oddly pacifying.

He'd said goodbye to Mirabel around 3 a.m, when the Madrigals had withdrawn home for the night while other villagers had done the same. By that time, Rafael had already gone back to the orphanage alongside the other kids when Señora Castillo insisted they were well past their curfew.

He raised a small square photograph to his face, letting it gleam in the moonlight.

Isla had brought her camera to the festivities, and had photographed a lot of things and people, amongst whom was also Mirabel during her performance. Isla had given Rafael the photo, and Rafael had bestowed it on his brother before leaving the party.

Carlos smiled. Light framed Mirabel's silhouette, shining from somewhere behind her; one of her arms was in the air, the other hand was twirling her skirt, her eyes were closed, and a divine beam gave her an angelic aura.

After the tragedy, despite the promise he'd made to Alejandra years ago, he had found it next to impossible to start healing. He hadn't even been able to so much as think about music ever again, let alone dancing.

But after arriving in Encanto, a blessing had been granted to him.

Mirabel Madrigal.

Everything had started with her. If before their encounter he was gloomy and desperate, after meeting her, light suddenly entered his miserable life. She was his source of hope, of joy, of optimism.

He pressed the picture to his chest; he'd have it with him anywhere he went so that when he missed her, he'd at least be able to look at her and know that she was with him.

Carlos leaned over the sill of the windows. The night was mostly quiet, the repose only interrupted by an exuberant cheer or a street musician singing by.

Later today, Rafael would no longer have to live at the orphanage, and Carlos would pack his things, and they'd both go live with their tía and primo. The thought thrilled him to the core. His life was taking a turning point, and a good one for that matter, despite the darkness that was still haunting both siblings.

He lifted his head when something caught his eye. The rays of dawn were creeping over the horizon. The view of the rising sun imbued him with faith and confidence.

He'd come this far. The loss of his family might have broken him, but the shattered pieces of his heart were gradually joining up. The wounds had ceased bleeding, and scabs were forming. He was aware of the scars that would always be somewhere deep inside him, but he'd mend them to the best of his ability with fond memories.

He wasn't weeping and yelling on the floor anymore. He'd got up and was striding on his path through life again.

His hermanito was healing too. He'd seen it. Rafi's eyes were empty anymore - the way they'd been when Carlos had finally found him -, he had the desire to play that every child his age ought to have, and his liveliness had grown considerably during their time together. They were both bound to enhance their recovery now with Tía Helena and Mariano by their side.

He certainly could get his life together. He had to. The road would be long, but with Rafael, Mirabel and the Guzmáns by his side, there was no way he wouldn't make it.

Several days later

"So, how is living with the Guzmáns like?" Mirabel inquired, shouldering her mochila bag.

They were on the way to the orphanage with food and supplies for the amped-up kids awaiting them. Rafael had tagged along; he wished to see his friends.

"Better than I imagined," Carlos answered leisurely. "Right, Rafi?"

"Of course!" the boy chirped, walking with a spring in his step.

"You two are quite famous already. The whole town has been whispering about your relation to the Guzmáns."

"Is that a good thing or a bad one?"

"I suppose both. Depends how you view it."

She admired a set of identical flowers as they passed another house. "So… Señora Guzmán is your mother's sister?"

"That's right."

"And you have visited her and Mariano before?"

"Yes, though only a few times. Once, they came to visit us in Bogotá."

"How old were you?"

"When my family and I visited first, I was five, the second time I was eight, and when they surprised us with that visit, I was twelve. Rafi remembers that holiday, don't you, brother?"

"¡Por supuesto! They brought some of the most delicious Torta Negra I've ever eaten!"

Mirabel sighed contentedly. "So beautiful!"

They reached the destination, and Carlos opened the door for her and Rafael. Señora Castillo was waiting for them, as was a big part of the children. After depositing the food, crafted toys (gifted by Mirabel) and painted wooden airplanes (gifted by Carlos), Rafael hurried to his playmates.

Señora Castillo said, "I want you two to meet somebody. Follow me!"

Exchanging glances, the teenagers followed the middle-aged woman up the stairs. The last time she had said that, they'd met each other. But now… her face was wrinkled with seriousness, which made them maintain the same air.

The walls of the staircase were littered with paintings and drawings, some more beautiful than others, but all pleasant to the eye. There were tapestries of various sizes on the hallways they passed, where children regarded them with full attention, some coming to greet Mirabel or grapple the owner's skirt.

"It's mostly quiet in the afternoon. Many of the children are asleep."

Despite her statement, giggles still echoed through the halls from behind ajar doors. When they ascended to the second floor, the laughter became out of earshot, replaced by stillness and silence that pressed on their heads.

"Mirabel, you alright?" Carlos whispered only for her to hear. He reached a tentative hand behind her back, but ultimately didn't touch her.

She angled her head towards him, saying under her breath, "The second floor is where they keep the youngest children so that they are farthest from the older ones' noise and commotion downstairs and on the first floor. That way, they are able to get the needed amount of sleep. There hasn't been a new addition to the youngest ones in… years."

The words stuck to Carlos like glue. He didn't think he wanted to know, but he questioned nonetheless, "What was the youngest age a child was brought here?"

"Three years old," Castillo responded gravely as they reached the intended floor. She slowly opened the second door on the left side of the hallway. "Please keep quiet. She's asleep."

Mirabel's legs were close to giving out on her, and Carlos held his breath.

The room was plain due to lack of space for adornment, but it still held a nuance of childhood because of colorful toys and scattered clothes. There were four bunk beds on two walls and a crib on the far wall. A four-year-old boy was fast asleep in one of the bottom beds.

Señora Castillo stopped before the cot; she gestured to them to near. After irresolute steps, they did.

A baby girl with tan skin, tousled raven hair and adorably round cheeks was sleeping beneath a pink purplish blanket in the cot. She stirred, but didn't wake up. She was small, so small…

Mirabel's voice came as a rustle of leaves, "H-How old is she?"

"The doctor estimated ten days at most. I found her yesterday on a table in my room on the ground-floor after the sun had set. Somebody must've crawled through the open windows and left her there. And there were no footprints whatsoever."

"But… But who would do such a thing? Why not leave a child here the proper way?"

The woman handed them an unfolded note from her pocket, scribbled in messy handwriting on a frayed piece of paper. They read it with thumping hearts.

Her name is Zoraida. Please, protect and nurture her until I am able to bring her up myself. I will come back for my daughter, I swear.

P.S: HIS grandson is the one who brought her. HE knows that, but HE cannot do anything about it. Do not worry, Encanto is safe.

Take care!

"The weirder thing is," Castillo further informed, "that I checked the hospital today, and there were no births in Encanto in the last three weeks. So the mother must be from the outside, and the person who brought her daughter here possibly is too. The little one was in a basket, wrapped in the blanket you see, with this note next to her."

They stared in silence at the note, rereading it on the background of the baby's shifting. Melancholy invaded Mirabel, threatening to overwhelm her senses. Darkness clouded Carlos' eyes, and he finally tore them from the hurried letters, yet the image of the note remained carved in his memory.

"Do either of you know what the postscriptum could mean?" the owner asked in a hushed tone.

They shook their heads, lost in thought. Castillo wanted to put the piece of paper back in her pocket, but Carlos prevented her, "Could I keep it? I'll try to find any clues about its meaning."

The woman's hand froze in the air, but she did give the note to him.

"Good luck, mijo."

Mirabel frowned. "It's clear that the mother wrote this, and that this mysterious grandson brought her here. And who is he with capital letters? Assumably someone important, perhaps influential and powerful, but dangerous since the mother…" She chewed her bottom lip. "...wants her child to be away from him." Her eyes widened. "Do you think… he is oppressing her?"

The horror on Carlos' face made her regret her surmises. Castillo's speechlessness magnified her already big feeling of remorse.

"I'm sorry. I went too far. I didn't mean to discomfit you."

"It's alright, Mirabel," the boy mollified her.

Her palms were sweating. There were so many questions begging to be uttered… She bit the inside of her cheek, unwilling to trouble them with more shaking queries.

Why was the safety of Encanto mentioned? Why couldn't the mother take care of her daughter? What was happening to her, to her family? Should they worry about the grandson? If he'd brought the baby here, that meant the mother trusted him, but…

"Should we try to find him? The grandson, I mean," she spoke. "He could surely explain what the note means because he knows the mother, and answer the questions we have."

"The way he left Zoraida here tells us he doesn't want to be identified," the elderly woman said. "A lot of things happen in the world that we don't know about, mi querida. Wherever the mother is, we can only pray that she'll be alright."

Because it's clear that she's not, Carlos restrained himself from voicing. The air was too heavy already.

"Some parts of Colombia suffer violence," he murmured grimly. "I know Encanto is safe thanks to the magic, but I still advise you both to be careful."

A claw traced Mirabel's spine. "About what, Carlos?"

He shrugged. "Everything. You never know when a misfortune can occur."

She tensed up. He'd learnt that the hard way, the way her abuela had five decades ago…

She gazed sadly at the baby on whose face a tiny smile had appeared. She bent down to run her hand through the incredibly soft hair. The baby's eyes suddenly opened. They were a mesmerizing shade of deep green, the one you only find in the midst of a forest.

"Can I…" Carlos dared, and Señora Castillo nodded.

With gentle hands, he lifted the little girl to his chest, carefully holding her head. She peered up at him and laughed, the sound melting three hearts at once.

A groan came from behind them, and the woman went to the boy who had just woken up from a deep afternoon sleep.

"She's beautiful." Mirabel stepped closer to Carlos to see the baby better. It looked at her and reached with a plump hand for her curly chin-length hair; it squeezed her index finger when she offered it. "I wonder what happened," she sighed.

"Maybe you don't wanna know," he replied, misty-eyed, as if he had the knowledge of the baby and its mother's unfortunate history. "Zoraida…" he then said dreamily, giving the little girl a soft bounce in his arms, making her giggle. "Isn't that a marvellous name?"

"It is. And I'm sure this little one will be just as marvellous a person as her name is."

Carlos' attention suddenly targeted her. A strip of golden light entered the room, shining on him, her, and the baby. He studied Mirabel as if it were the first time they saw each other, his skin glowing warmly. Mirabel reminded herself to breathe as she stared into his temporarily amber eyes, as she again found herself being the objective of that breathtaking tender smile.

Nervously, she chuckled. "What?"

He shook his head as if he'd awoken from a dream. "Nothing."

Neither noticed the way Señora Castillo was watching them, endearment emanating from her.

A minute later, smiling benevolently, she arrived beside them. "Alright darlings, she needs to be fed."

She took the tiny girl from Carlos's arms. For a moment, he looked like she'd just taken treasure away from him, but he quickly pulled himself together. He continued to gaze lovingly at Zoraida.

"Thank you for showing her to us, Señora," Mirabel said gratefully as they exited the room.

"Of course, mijos. You are my children, just like all the ones here are."

She held a baby bottle to the girl's face, who started drinking the milk instantly. They shut the door without a sound.

"You alright?" she asked when he ran a palm over his face and heaved a sigh from the bottom of his soul.

"I'll be."

She stepped in front of the round window in the middle of the hall, beholding the tall mountains that protected Encanto from ill-intentioned intruders. "We must stay strong. We'll take care of the baby just like we do with the other kids."

He admired the way the light of dusk enriched her features. "We? You mean you and I?"

"You, me, Señora Castillo, the staff, other volunteers. The bonds that form between the children also help. They learn to look after and be there for one another. No matter how hard things get."

She opened the windows with a sharp movement, the wind tousling their hair. The smell of home raced inside.

This was so similar to their first encounter, up in that tree about a month ago…

They stood in quietness, watching the colours change in the sky until Mirabel felt the call to tell him, "Señora Castillo has always wished to have kids of her own, but it wasn't meant to happen. She wasn't always the owner of the orphanage, you know. Her aunt founded the orphanage, and it was bequeathed to her. Her husband died about a decade ago, before the inheritance. That's when she moved to live with the kids."

"That's… heartbreaking." Carlos looked over his shoulder as if he could see the woman still.

"The orphanage wasn't always here. It changed location when the old place couldn't accommodate the number of children anymore. And that number has only grown since then."

She teared up. Carlos hated himself for fighting the urge to hug her when it was clear she was in need of comfort. He felt it was too soon for that. They hadn't known each other for a long time.

Mirabel felt his hand rest on her back, and the memory of their dance replayed in her mind. Serenity and security mingled with distress inside her.

"Well, cosa linda… As you said, we'll keep fighting and hoping for the best."

A warm pulse travelled throughout Mirabel's body at the nickname he'd picked for her. Her mamá sometimes called her the same, but when Carlos said it, it felt different… in a good way.

She squinted up at him. "Why do you call me that?"

He gave her a cunning smile. "Because it's true."

Was he truly attracted to her? Or was he just goofing around?

She trod away from the windows, towards the flight of stairs, responding with what she hoped to appear an uncertain yet smug grin. He followed suit.

"When's your birthday?" he wanted to know.

"6th of March."

He nodded thoughtfully. "So, you'll be fifteen."

"Yep. When's yours?"

"12th of April."

He'd turn sixteen then. Mirabel mentally jotted down that information.

Her calm dropped as foreboding set in. "Do you think… Do people want to attack our Encanto?"

He knew her fear stemmed from the note.

"I don't wish to believe that. I want to have faith that nothing harmful will happen. I want the entire Colombia to be free of conflicts and thrive."

She didn't miss the almost insignificant detail. I want to have faith, not I have faith.

"Have you and Rafael adjusted here?" She was in desperate need of a subject change. "Could Encanto ever be your home?

He grinned, alleviating her doubt. "It already is."

She didn't hold back a genuine smile, despite the pain and uneasiness that lingered. "That's wonderful to hear!"

A/N: Thanks for reading!

Well, mysteries have started to arise. I'm curious to know what you think.