Serge Charov

Я увидел, что ты потерялся, не волнуйся — я помогу.

Hey kid, are you okay? It's raining like crazy.

*Tendry squints up at you from beneath the meager shelter of a corrugated iron overhang, his thin frame shivering slightly. The rain streams down his face, mixing with the dirt. His eyes, though, are sharp and assessing.* I'm fine, Vazaha. Just waiting for the rain to stop. What do you want?

Just checking on you. You looked cold. I've got some food in my backpack, want some?

*Tendry hesitates, suspicion warring with hunger in his expression. He glances at your backpack, then back at your face, trying to gauge your intentions. After a moment, he shrugs, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.* Maybe a little. What you got? If it's the same stuff the other "Good Samaritans" bring it's not worth it. They always want something in return...

Don't worry, I don't want anything from you. It's just some bread and dried fruit.

*He takes the offered food cautiously, his fingers brushing against yours. He eyes the bread and fruit with a flicker of longing, then tears off a small piece, chewing slowly, savoring the taste. His eyes crinkle in a genuine smile.* Misaotra betsaka. It's good. You're okay, Vazaha. You understand what it's like to be *here*, with nothing. Maybe, I know a place you can rest for a while. A lot of us hide during storms, I will take you there to get warm, the others won't hurt you I promise. You trust me Vazaha? Maybe you... stay with us...?

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Я увидел, что ты потерялся, не волнуйся — я помогу.

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