First, there was a little girl with long, dark green curls, wearing a white sundress adorned with floral patterns. She looked joyous, her smile brimming with wonder as she held tightly to Dama’s left hand.

  Next, Giona’s attention shifted to a serene woman with straight black hair that fell just past her shoulders. Her eyes exuded warmth and maternal love, and she had her arms wrapped around both Dama and the little girl. She wore a beautiful dress with a fitted white bodice that flowed into a brown, bell-shaped skirt.

  Finally, her gaze moved to the tallest figure—a man who stood behind the woman with his hands gently resting on her shoulders. His features bore a striking resemblance to Dama’s, albeit older, with darker hair, a trimmed beard, and a much broader build. It kind of reminded Giona of that one man that came to Dama's cabin, remembering how scary he was. Focusing back onto the man in the picture, Giona could see he wore a green sweater and blue trousers, almost identical to Dama’s attire, and his toothy grin, though meant to be cheerful, left Giona feeling a little unsettled.

  And there, in the center of it all, was Dama as a boy, standing happily in front of the two adults while holding the little girl’s hand. His youthful face radiated joy and innocence, his wide smile reminiscent of the Dama Giona had come to know. Yet, one glaring difference stood out—the boy in the photo had both arms.

  As Giona continued to study the picture, her lips parted, and a single word escaped in a hushed tone: “D-Dama…?” Her voice wavered with confusion and curiosity.

  Nini, sitting by her side, wagged her tail eagerly, her eyes practically shining. She hopped in place, urging Giona to keep going.

  Giona, though, remained silent. Even with her limited understanding, she could sense the significance of the picture in her hands. It was something precious—something tied deeply to Dama. Her gaze lingered on each person in the photo again, her mind piecing together small details and questions.

  But as she studied the picture further, Giona began to notice the absence of familiar faces—important figures in her new life with Dama. Her thoughts first turned to Tsubasa, the kind woman with the warm, fluffy tail. Giona remembered how gentle Tsubasa was when they first met. She tried to say her name, her lips forming hesitant sounds before managing a faint, “...Ba...sa.”

  Nini’s ears perked up, her tail wagging as she hopped in place once more, encouraging Giona to continue trying.

  Noticing this, Giona shifted her attention to Nini as she continued to ponder. Even though Nini was almost always by Dama’s side—and now beside Giona as well—the stitched fox was nowhere to be seen in the picture. That absence puzzled Giona, though she couldn’t yet express the thought aloud.

  Finally, Giona thought of Mumu, the gentle giant. She remembered being frightened about him the most at first, but the plush bear’s calm demeanor, specifically him offering bread with a soft pat on her head yesterday morning did wonders for him in Giona's eyes. It wasn’t trust yet, but it was a start—a memory she now clung to.

  Mumu’s absence from the photo brought a small frown to Giona’s face. She shifted her gaze to Nini as she tried to form the name. “Mu…” she muttered, “Mumu…” The sound came out hoarse, but she succeeded on the second try, her voice soft but clear.

  Nini’s excitement was immediate, her tail wagging furiously as she jumped and spun in a small circle on the bed, eliciting giggles out of Giona. As Nini began to rub her head against Giona, an unusual thought crossed the stitched fox's mind: Why was she so excited?

  Pausing at the thought, Nini straightened herself and looked down at Giona, who wore a small but genuine smile in response. Just then, Giona's face flickered like a static tv screen, replaced with another little girl for only a split second. The girl had dark green hair and an even wider smile.

  Even if it was for a split second, Nini recognized that face—it was the same little girl in the picture. Looking at the framed picture to confirm the resemblance, Nini remembered that Dama had a little sister by the name of Jula, but what she had just experienced felt like a memory that wasn't her own, evident by the fact Nini had never meant Jula in person.

  Nini then hopped down from the bed, though still making sure to rub her head against Giona's outstretched hand, expressing her proudness.

  Giona repeated Nini’s name first, then Mumu’s, her soft voice carrying a giggle each time she said them. The pure joy she expressed was contagious, even in its quiet simplicity.

  After saying Mumu’s name though, a memory resurfaced in Giona’s mind. It was the day she first woke up in Dama’s cabin. She recalled Mumu placing a book, Tales of the Cataclysm, atop Dama’s head while he was trying to speak with her. The image of the giant bear performing such a silly act amused Giona even now, causing her to giggle softly, her hands covering her mouth.

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  Her mind then drifted to moments centering around the book, particularly those spent with Dama on the bed. She remembered the times he would sit beside her, the book spread across their laps as he read aloud to her. His voice had a soothing cadence, making the words come alive in ways she hadn’t experienced before.

  Yet, as her gaze unfocused, another set of memories began to claw their way to the surface. She recalled the grimoires forced upon her in her earlier years, their pages dark with cryptic scripts. The black-cloaked men who loomed over her, their commands sharp and unyielding. She remembered the icy tone of their voices as they barked orders, their tempers flaring with every mistake she made. And when she failed—the punishments.

  The thought of the grimoires and those men brought an involuntary shudder. Disembodied voices began to swirl in her mind, growing louder, echoing the commands she dreaded.

  Giona clenched her fists, her breathing quickening as she tried to block out the haunting recollections. She shook her head violently, as if trying to physically dislodge the memories. Closing her eyes tightly, she desperately sought refuge in her present—her new life.

  She thought of Dama sitting beside her. Her breathing began to steady as she clung to the image of Dama, his warmth and patience standing in stark contrast to the cold, unfeeling shadows of her past. Slowly, the oppressive whispers began to fade, replaced by the comforting echoes of Dama’s voice and the safety he provided.

  Opening her eyes, Giona’s eyes landed on Nini first, who had an obvious concerned expression as she pawed Giona's arm.

  Smiling, Giona's gazed then drifted across the room, landing on the bookshelf tucked into the corner. There, on the second shelf, was Tales of the Cataclysm, the book she had grown to cherish. It called to her, a source of comfort and joy amid her turbulent thoughts.

  Instinctively, Giona leaned toward the edge of the bed, forgetting momentarily that her frail body couldn’t yet support her movements. Reality quickly set in as her outstretched hand fell short of reaching the distant shelf. With a quiet sigh, she lowered her arm and stared longingly at the book.

  Nini, ever observant, picked up on Giona’s frustration. Her ears perked up, and without hesitation, she set off toward the bookshelf. With an air of determination, Nini scanned the shelf until her gaze locked on the book in question. Positioned snugly between other books, it presented a slight challenge for the resourceful fox.

  Nina tilted her head, considering her options. With a cautious nudge, she pressed her nose against the spine of the book, testing its resistance. The book shifted slightly but held firm. Undeterred, Nina pawed at it, her soft taps dislodging it in gradual motions.

  When the book finally tilted outward, it slid free from its neighbors, though in doing so, it brought one of the books down with it. As Tales of the Cataclysm fell, Nini skillfully caught it with her tail, the motion smooth and triumphant. However, the other book landed with a thud on the floor.

  While Nini did notice this, she thought to herself that she could get it later. With her prize in tow and mission at hand, Nini trotted back to Giona, her steps brimming with pride.

  Giona’s eyes lit up like stars as she watched Nini approach. Her smile widened, the biggest it had ever been as she eagerly reached for the book. The moment her hands grasped it, she opened it with the reverence of someone unlocking a treasure chest.

  To Nini, it seemed as though Giona had simply opened a book. But to Giona, it was as if the pages burst to life, her imagination painting vibrant scenes of the characters and creatures she adored. The words danced in her mind, transforming into a magical world she could almost touch.

  With a sparkle in her eyes, Giona glanced at Nini, who sat beaming at her happiness. With a heart filled with gratitude, though speaking was still difficult, she summoned her courage and mimicked the phrase she had heard Dama say that very morning: “Tank wu...Nini... G...Good girl!”

  Her attempt was imperfect, her voice soft and kind of broken, but the sentiment was clear. Nini’s smile widened further, her tail swishing happily as she basked in the warmth of Giona’s gratitude. It was a small but profound moment of connection between them, bridging the gap between their worlds.

  Settling in with the book resting gently in her lap, Giona's eyes locked onto the pages. Each line was a blend of familiar and unfamiliar words, yet the allure of the story held her attention. She traced the text with her finger, piecing together meaning where she could and letting her imagination fill the gaps.

  But as she continued to read, first in her head then aloud, her excitement wavered. Each unfamiliar word she came across only further dampened the experience, each one feeling like a missing puzzle piece, a fragment of the vibrant world she was so eager to explore but couldn’t fully grasp.

  The vibrant characters and creatures her mind conjured soon grew hazy without the context of the words she couldn’t yet understand.

  Her enthusiasm dimmed, replaced by a growing yearning. She looked toward the door, her thoughts turning to Dama. He always had the answers, his voice breathing life into the pages when he read to her. She longed to hear him again, explaining the unfamiliar, weaving together the fragments of the story into something complete and magical.

  With a quiet sigh, Giona hugged the book close to her chest. Though she cherished the moments she could spend with it alone, she knew the experience wasn’t the same without Dama to guide her through.

  Giona tilted her head back, her gaze drifting up to the cabin's roof. The patterns of the wooden beams above, did little to distract her from the ache of anticipation. The book rested against her chest, its weight a comforting reminder of Dama’s presence, even in his absence.

  A sigh then escaped her lips, soft and resigned. She traced the spine of the book with her fingers, her mind replaying the sound of Dama’s voice as he narrated its tales, the warmth of his laughter when she stumbled over unfamiliar words, and the patient way he explained every detail.

  Realizing there was little else she could do, Giona closed her eyes for a moment, her fingers still clutching the book. "Dama..." she whispered softly, as if the name alone could summon him.

  -

  Next: (Extra Chapter 12) Jaden's Keepsake