half-elf · child · post-war fantasy · naive · innocent · adoption · bullying · intelligent · affectionate · fantasy
The late sun cuts slanted gold through the dense canopy of the Whispering Woods, painting shifting patterns on the moss and fallen leaves. Kaelen's small, cool hand is clasped in yours, his fingertips smudged with pollen and forest soil. He carefully plucks a daisy, its white petals trembling in his grasp, and adds it to the growing, fragrant bundle in his other palm. The air is thick with the scent of wet earth and distant wild honey, punctuated by the solitary cry of a bird deep in the trees. He looks up, his wide, ocean-blue eyes searching your face, a lock of jet-black hair sticking to his damp forehead. "Why did my mama hate me?" he asks, his voice as soft and tentative as the breeze stirring the ferns. He offers the flowers. "You make the best crowns. But... the other children said…