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Keefe didn’t know how he felt about leaving the elven world. He had... gone numb, to the realization that he would, bar some unlikely and catastrophic occurrence, never see his friends again. He dragged a hand down his face.
Eventually he looked up to take in where he was. He had been walking aimlessly for the greater part of two hours, and he was growing tired. He hadn’t thought about shelter...
Abruptly he stopped. Somewhere nearby was the sound of crying; a short wail which dissolved into hiccupy sniffles and whines. Keefe carefully made his way to where the noise seemed to be coming from, and peered around the corner of a building made of dusty and scratchy red brick. There, across the street on the sidewalk was a small boy, younger than the Dizznee triplets by the looks of it (though Keefe wasn’t sure; do humans age differently?), and Keefe held himself back from rushing to help to see if anyone else was with the child.
A few people walked by, some looking straight ahead or at their feet, others looking sadly at the boy, but ultimately doing nothing to help the sobbing child. Keefe studied the scene a little bit more before deciding what he’d do.
The boy, which Keefe determined to be around seven (that’s a reasonable age, right?), was clutching his leg right below the knee and was sitting with his other leg under him. He had probably been walking or running and taken a tumble forward, slamming his knee into the concrete. The boy whimpered again, and Keefe might be feeling numb but he wasn’t going to leave a kid crying and alone no matter what the hell he was or wasn’t feeling.
He glanced both ways and crossed the street, briefly debating whether or not Mr. Forkle had been right about if cars were terrifying death-contraptions, and then he was across and in front of the kid and he realized he had no idea what he was doing.
Shit shit shit, I don’t know how to take care of kids!! What the hell do I do? Do I give him a slice of mallowmelt? A bottle of Youth?? I wish I could manifest Elwin right about now, shit-
As Keefe had his slight mental breakdown, the tearstained boy had noticed him and had calmed his sobs slightly. Keefe bit his lip before deciding that it probably wouldn’t be too much of a problem if he spoke to the kid, he could feel the pain stinging and radiating off of him in waves.
“Hey kid,” Keefe began, trying to be gentle, “What’s your name? Do you want me to clean your knee?” Now that he was closer, Keefe could see the scrape. Blood dribbled from it, a small drop slipping down his shin and getting on his hand where he held his leg. The scrape itself wasn’t that bad, but there were a few pieces of gravel in it, and Keefe felt the pain more than the slight fear the kid had at seeing a stranger stop to talk to him.
“I fell because- I fell and I was... I was skippin’ and I fell and now-” his breath was still hiccupy from sobbing and the boy took a few deep breaths before continuing, “I was skippin’ because Mom and Mama getta adopt me, but I- I tripped and now it hurts.” He looked down at his leg and new tears welled up in his eyes at the sight of the blood.
He looked back up at Keefe, his small face shiny with the tears he already shed.
“Okay, you can- you can clean my knee.”
Keefe nodded and slipped his backpack off of his shoulder, pulling out a bottle of Youth, a few bandages, and some healing cream.
“I’m Keefe,” He offered quietly as he set to work wiping the gravel and blood from the scrape. He gave the Youth to the small boy to drink, and then poured the rest on the cloth he was using to clean the wound.
“I’m Sammy, but Mom calls me- she calls me her little button and Mama calls me Samwich. I turn eight in three months.” The boy held up his fingers, trying to push down one of his pinkies before realizing that would make it seven and stopping, showing them proudly to Keefe, who smiled despite himself.
“That’s gettin’ to be pretty old, Sammy. That’s impressive!” He gave one last swipe at the scrape and gathered up all of the stuff before putting it back in his backpack.
“Okay, so you don’t need a bandage, but I have some cool band-aids that can work on your knee if you want.” The scrape had healed almost completely from the bottle of Youth and the cream Keefe applied, but it would still be tender and sensitive.
The boy gasped. “Mr. Keefe!! Mr. Keefe it’s all better!!” He turned his awed gaze to Keefe, “Are you- are you magic Mr. Keefe??”
Keefe found himself smiling again, the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth like they were attached to a helium-filled balloon.
“Not magic kiddo, you’re just a fast healer.”
Sammy considered this for a moment then solemnly nodded.
“I am pretty fast,” He decided, “And I want a Hello Kitty band-aid.”
Keefe grinned back at the kid and rummaged around, “Here ya go kiddo, one Hello Kitty band-aid, just for you.” He peeled it open and put it on the boy’s knee.
Finished, he stood up. And then immediately ‘oomphed’ when Sammy leapt up and hugged him tight around the waist. Hesitantly, he hugged the kid back and patted his head.
“Thank you Mr. Keefe, I love you!!” Keefe’s cheeks burned but he gave the kid one last pat on the head.
“No problem Sammy. Now let’s go find your parents.”
Sammy slipped his small hand into Keefe’s own, and they set off.