Three

‘“I will swim over to those beautiful proud birds,” he thought, “I am so ugly they will surely kill me. But it will be better to be killed by them, than be bitten by ducks and pecked by hens and hated by everyone.”

So he swam toward them with his head bowed, showing that he was willing to die.’ The Ugly Duckling

Ella sat in her clump of rags—it was larger and cushier than most of the others, and at a choice spot near the fire. Toad figured he wasn’t welcome there, being a newcomer and all, and glanced to her, back to the edge of the circle, wringing his hands nervously. He didn’t know what to do.

“C’mere,” she said, beckoning. “You can bunk with me until we get you a bed of your own.”

Mort carefully picked his way though the group of children, careful not to disturb them, and then sat at the far edge of the pile of rags, not wanting to offend or disgust her, his eyes wide in fear, lest he do something wrong. She smiled sadly at him. “If you don’t get some extra body heat, you’re liable t’ get sick, Mortie.” She curled up next to him as all the other children had done with those closest, and pulled a scratchy—but thick—woolen blanket over the both of them.

His whole body quivered with hesitation for a long moment, and then he clung to Ella, like a scared child does his mother. Mort had never had a chance to be held or comforted in his eight years, not when he had been scared- which he was often, or when he was hurt- which was more often than that.

Ella reached her arms around him in a protective gesture, holding him close to her chest.

---

From then on, she thought of me as her responsibility. She was like…a mother to me. I never had anything like that before…and haven’t since.

---

In the morning, he was jubilated to find that it all hadn’t been a dream. He was still in Ella’s arms, warm and safe. The sky, visible through the hole in the roof, was now a pale indigo, telling of the coming dawn.

Not many were awake yet, but a few were stirring. A boy that looked about thirteen was rebuilding the fire, and glared at him steadily when he saw Toad was staring. The little green boy grasped Ella like a lifeline, and she woke up with a start. “Mort? I’m having a bit of trouble breathing…” he loosened his grip immediately, looking ashamed. “It’s alright,” she soothed him. Her eyes turned on the thirteen year old with sharp clarity. “What did you do?” she snapped. The boy balked.

“Nuffin! ‘Ee was starin’!”

“I wasn’t,” said Mort quietly. “Just lookin’,” the schoolyard flashed before him for a moment, all the children staring…pointing…they started throwing things… He would never do that to someone else.

“Bugger off, Zachary,” Ella said. “You heard him, he was just lookin’,”

“Jeezus, Ella,” said Zachary, backing off quickly. “Sorry,” It was clear, despite her small size, that Ella carried some power within this group.

“S’ok, mate,” she shrugged it off. “You makin’ breakfast, then?”

“Trish’s goin’ off to the warehouse,” he explained. A mutant-friendly fisherman that lived a little ways down the docks supplied the Haven with a large cut of fish and a few other groceries each day. Mort perked up immediately.

“Do I…can I have some?” he asked timidly. Zach grinned a little, ruffling the boy’s mop of mossy green hair.

“Sure y’can. I’d be insulted if you didn’t,”

---

And soon after, I became like the little brother of the entire group. I loved the attention, did my best to please all of them, and keep in the right. They looked after me special, chipped in to get me a nice warm sweatshirt, with a hood.

It was several sizes too big, but that was the point, after all. To pay them back, I did my own share of errands. I pick-pocketed a little here and there, nicked a few things from the corner stores. I was small enough to go unsuspected, and looked more like five years old than eight, so sometimes I was given free handouts by the storeowners…as long as my face was safely hidden.

Is it my imagination, or do you look a little bored there, Chuck? Don’t you worry. The good part’s coming up.