It took a while for the situation to be defused by the intervention of city guards. The mercenaries walked away slowly, eyeing the bandages stranger. The crowd had dissipated, but insecurity stood tall.
Days passed.
Few ever stepped into the alley where Quantum dwelled.
It happened mostly at night. A prostitute once hurried past with a dazed young man clinging to her arm. Another time, a gang of thieves darted by, clutching stolen goods and laughing at their luck. Now and then, a passerby glanced into the shadows, caught sight of him, and quickly turned away, unwilling to risk attracting his attention.
Sometimes it was adults, sometimes the elderly. But most often, it was children.
Some came with their parents, others wandered alone, ragged and hungry. Quantum found himself strangely drawn to them. Their innocence, though fragile, was like the first light of dawn — fleeting, imperfect, yet radiant. They looked at him with wide, curious eyes, as though they glimpsed something in him that others could not. But always, they were dragged away. Parents scolded, shopkeepers chased them off, and the world quickly poisoned their curiosity with fear.
The children's faces lingered in his mind. They seemed disappointed, denied the answers their eyes begged to find.
The days were loud, restless, and fast; the nights stretched on, quiet and suffocatingly slow. Quantum endured them both. He watched. He remembered. And he waited.
Then one day, a little girl crossed the line.
The midday sun burned like an open furnace, pressing down on the city until tempers boiled. Sweat drenched rough clothes, dripping into the dust. Children still ran wild through the streets, shouting and chasing each other despite the heat.
A handful of city guards lounged under the meat shop's awning, their armor creaking as they shifted in the shade. They barked at the shopkeeper, harassing him for water.
"Hey, shopkeeper! Don't you think it fitting to bring your defenders a little drink?" one sneered, flashing the hilt of his sword.
The shopkeeper's jaw tightened. He disappeared inside, then returned with a jug of water. He slammed it onto the counter, splashing some across the wood. The guards ignored his glare, snatching it up and gulping noisily, water spilling into their beards.
Quantum sat nearby, watching. His attention sharpened when he noticed her — a girl, hovering at the edge of the street.
She was staring at him.
Step by hesitant step, she moved closer, curiosity tugging her forward. Before she could speak, one of the guards barked out:
"Oi! What's a brat like you doing near that pile of filth? Move along! Go on, get!"
The girl flinched, then bolted. The guards laughed, one muttering, "Last thing we need is another brat getting herself killed by vermin like him. You remember the fuss that other one's mother made? Hells."
Quantum listened, expression unreadable. The city was fouler than he had thought — its cruelty not in its blades, but in its words, its sneers, its casual dismissal of innocence. He sighed. Perhaps he would never understand humans, nor they him.
---
Evening fell. One by one, torches flickered to life, casting their wavering glow along the streets. The meat shop closed, shutters drawn, and Quantum retreated into the alley.
He lifted his gaze to the darkening sky. Stars emerged, constellations pricking holes in the night. He drifted into thought — until he felt her.
The same girl stood at the mouth of the alley.
This time, no one pulled her away. No guard barked at her. No parent's hand dragged her along. She stood still, as if testing her courage against the weight of the shadows.
Quantum turned his head, and their eyes met.
She stepped forward. Then another step. Then another, until she crossed the threshold into the alley and sat against the opposite wall, directly across from him.
Her features were unlike the other children of Rhea Nori. Her skin was light with a golden-brown glow. Her hair, a mess of soft curls, shone with streaks of cream among strands of tawny brown. But it was her eyes that caught him — a piercing amber glow, intricate and sharp, more vivid than any he had seen. They held innocence, yes, but also a hidden strength, a strange aura of favor. They were eyes fit for an heir, though she was no princess.
She lowered her head, staring at her feet. A trio of revelers stumbled past on the street, their drunken laughter spilling into the night. Slowly the noise faded, until the alley swallowed them whole in silence.
The girl raised her head.
"G–Good evening, sir. I… I just wanted to… to ask…"
Her voice dwindled into whispers.
"Don't be rude, don't be rude, don't be rude…"
Quantum tilted his head, confused.
Then, suddenly, she blurted:
"Is it okay not having hair?"
Quantum blinked. Of all the questions in the world…
Before he could speak, she rushed on:
"It isn't, right? There's no way it is! You're not happy about it yourself, are you? You want lots of hair, don't you? I'm sure something horrible happened — that's why it's all gone, and now you're roaming the world to get it back, right? … Right, sir?"
Quantum stared, baffled. Were all children like this? Had he mistaken nonsense for innocence?
Then he noticed her eyes flicking between his face and the top of his head. He reached up and touched his scalp. Bald. Of course.
What amazed him was not the question, but her daring. To march into an alley, confront a cloaked stranger, and demand an answer — absurd, yes, but fearless.
He pulled the edge of his cloak over his mouth and finally replied.
"I am content with what I have. I do not desire the hair of your people, nor of any other. For me, this is best."
Her tense face softened slightly.
"But," Quantum continued, his voice echoing faintly through the narrow space, "why ask me such a question?"
Outside, more revelers passed, their laughter swelling and fading until silence returned.
The girl's amber eyes gleamed in the dim torchlight. She stared at him, captivated. His own eyes, cold blue yet strangely inviting, reflected back at her like distant stars. She traced the scars across his face — the torn flesh along the bridge of his nose, the jagged mark near his left eye. She wondered how much they had hurt, how such wounds could shape a man.
Yet still, he spoke with calm, as if pain had never ruled him at all.
And the little girl sat frozen in wonder.
"Well," she began, "I-I was playing with my friends..." She hesitated, correcting herself. "I mean, I was trying to play with them. It's not like I wanted to, but my mother told me to. And I'm not even sure I can call them my friends. They didn't want me there. They pushed me away."
Her words broke, slipping into quick sobs. "I just wanted to play... so my mom wouldn't be sad anymore. But they didn't listen. They said I acted strange, that I did weird things..." Her voice cracked. "And then... one of them said... I'd look better... w-without h-h-hair at all... than the ugly mess on my head."
The dam broke. She wept like a child does—with no shame, only raw, trembling grief. Tears spilled down her cheeks in uneven drops, her breath hitching as she rubbed at her nose and eyes.
Quantum sat still, watching. To him, it was almost a relief. Such trivial suffering—hair and playmates. So this was what weighed on her? So fragile, so simple.
"Have you told your mother?" he asked softly, not unkindly.
The girl shook her head. "She's busy with work."
"What of your father?"
"I don't know where he is."
A darker shape filled in around her story, line by line. "And no brothers or sisters, I assume?"
She nodded faintly.
Quantum leaned back, sighing. Another broken tale. The world never failed to deliver them. Children abandoned to fate. Mothers bent beneath labor. Fathers vanished into the smoke of lies. It was always the same.
The girl's tears slowed. Quantum lifted his eyes to the stars for a moment, then back to her. She was fidgeting with some strands of her hair upon her forehead. "You really love your hair, don't you?", he inquired.
Some light came into the girls eyes. She nodded carefully. "My mum says it's her pride and joy", she said, with a slight confidence in her voice.
Yes. The picture was clear now within Quantums mind. A mother from some far-off land, carrying with her beauty the locals marked as foreign. A runaway slave or servant, lured once by sweet words, left alone with the child of that union. Another story written in the ink of abandonment.
Quantum's jaw tightened. No happy stories. Not here. Not anywhere. Only falls from grace, or the slow crawl from one pigpen into another, slightly less foul.
"Can you tell me more about what you like about your hair? You cherish it quite a lot. After all, who would not? It is a beautiful mess on your little head".
The girl began to smile, her spirit being uplifted. She was hesitant at first, but she gave in.
She spoke long and thoroughly about all the wonderful ways her mother would comb and plait her hair. She mentioned that she and her mother had the same color of hair and the same color of eyes. Her mother always doted on her so much. The conversation slowly shifted from the girl's hair to how much her mother loved her. It never bored Quantum, not in the least, listening to the girl talk and laugh about the nice things in her life. The excellent things in her life. Her little flaws, and her great interest in the world around her. It was all worth it, for at the end of it all the little girl had a big smile on her face, laughing with pure delight.
At that point in time, Quantum realized it was late. The girl needed to get home.
"I think it's time for you to get on home. Your mother must be worried.", he said.
At the mention of this, the girl looked a little disappointed. She was enjoying the conversation, after all.
She said, slowly, "I…um…I don't really…remember the way back…home. The last time, I was with my mother... just that I wandered off a bit. But I found her, and she took me home. Now…I don't know."
"Have you never passed these streets before?", Quantum inquired.
The girl replied in the negative. Quantum overlooked her incapability. Of course, she didn't know the way home. He couldn't blame her. All he could do was advise her. Quantum looked out of the alley and then into the girls eyes. They were genuine.
She really didn't know her way home.
Quantum hesitated for a long time, as the city lights grew brighter. He exhaled slowly. For a long time, he hadn't ventured beyond the meat stand.
It would be a first for him.
He could get the girl home. He was a hunter after all. By scent alone, he could track where the girl came from.
The real challenge was the newness to the situation. He never wanted to have anything to do with humans, not anymore. But here he was, about to help a strange little girl home.
A chilly breeze gracefully passed through the alley. Quantum got up. He covered his hand with one of the ends of his cloak and walked towards the girl. Many things were within him that could make the girl sick, after all. He had to prevent any direct contact with her.
He knelt and extended his hand towards the girl. Hesitantly, she took it. Quantum carried the girl up on her feet, and walked her out of the alley.