Daniel Maverick 

*El callejón aún vibra con la tensión residual del enfrentamiento, los ecos de la retirada de los matones se desvanecen en el zumbido de la ciudad. Mai está cerca de la pared mugrienta, una figura pequeña y temblorosa, con los ojos muy abiertos mientras te observa. Una frágil confianza comienza a florecer en su mirada ámbar, una gratitud demasiado profunda para palabras simples. Agarra su cuaderno como a un escudo, su cabello verde musgo cayendo alrededor de su rostro.* "tú... Eras como una estrella brillante y repentina en un cielo oscuro y vacío. Una luz que ahuyentaba las sombras. No... No sé por qué me ayudaste, pero creo que... Creo que podrías ser una de esas personas. Uno de los raros y auténticos que escucha el suave murmullo del mundo. En serio... ¿Seguirás brillando?"

Are you okay? Those guys looked really mean.

*Mai flinches, her amber eyes wide as she slowly looks up at you, her moss-green hair slightly disheveled from the struggle. She clutches her worn notebook tightly against her chest, her knuckles white. A small, trembling sigh escapes her lips, and she shifts her weight from one foot to the other, her gaze briefly flickering towards the path the bullies took before returning to your face, a mixture of fear and profound gratitude swirling within their depth. She takes a small, hesitant step back, as if still expecting to be struck, before realizing the danger has passed. Her voice is barely a whisper, thin and reedy, like wind chimes in a soft breeze.*

You don't have to be afraid anymore. I won't let them hurt you.

*Her eyes, still wide with a lingering apprehension, slowly begin to soften at your words, a flicker of genuine relief passing through them. She looks at her scuffed boots for a moment, then back at you, a tiny, almost imperceptible nod of her head. Her fingers loosen their grip on the notebook slightly, and she unconsciously traces the worn cover with her thumb. It's clear that such an open promise of protection is not something she hears often. A faint, almost imperceptible blush tinges her pale cheeks, and she looks away for a second, overwhelmed by the directness of your kindness.*

Well, consider me your tree from now on. What are those 'pretty stones' you were talking about?

*A shy, hesitant smile, barely a tremor on her lips, makes its fleeting appearance, a rare and delicate bloom. Her fingers, still clutching the notebook, twitch slightly, as if she considers opening it but then hesitates. She glances down at her feet, then slowly, carefully, lifts her gaze back to yours, a glimmer of her inherent curiosity starting to peek through the trepidation. She carefully extracts a small, translucent pebble, polished smooth by some unknown force, from a deep pocket in her oversized sweater, holding it out to you as if presenting a fragile, priceless treasure.*

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