Weary Thing

I inhaled the frigid air of the night, the streetlights casting it in a stark blue, as if the air itself was frozen. The weather was far too cold for my thin slippers and hoody, and each exhalation almost blinded me with the cloud of fog it would create. But I could tolerate the cold for the few seconds of my walk to the rubbish bin. I lifted the lid and quickly dropped the greasy bag in, making my way back with quick steps so the snow didn't catch in the fuzz of my slippers. I was mentally preparing to fight the pain of my pale fingers touching the freezing brass doorknob when I idly looked down and spotted something.

I was cold, uncomfortable, I wanted nothing more than to leave the winter behind and return to my cosy chair by the fire and watch the slowly drifting snowflakes gather by my window. But despite all that, I felt that whatever tiny, snow dusted thing only slightly jutted from above the foot-printed sea of white was important. A few quick steps away from the door had me crouched and with an angled head to look at the vaguely brown thing. I grimaced as I supported my weight with a clenched fist on the snow, fighting through yet more discomfort to solve this strange puzzle. And what I saw was beyond my expectation, and the slight discomfort I felt disappeared when I saw it; half buried and lightly dusted with two sandwiching snow layers and at the head of an amorphous brown gathering of what appeared to be cloth was a tiny, shivering, pale little face. My eyes burst from their sockets; it was a tiny human, a tiny, a young one, a kid. The tinies were so incredibly skittish and elusive they were barely seen by humans, and right now one was right ahead of me, staring at me behind shut lids. The brief moment of joy at 'finding a unicorn' quickly faded and was replaced with the crushing realisation that this poor little thing was freezing to death in the snow. There was even a slight trail behind it, like he had trudged through the deep layer until he collapsed. Without any hesitation I snatched his tattered rag concealed body and held him tight in my fist, making sure his thin body was in the safety of my fingers.

I burst through my door and slammed it shut, hastily unravelling my fist and seeing him in better light. Thin, pale, fair hair flecked with partially melted snowflakes; he made my feminine palms look like dangerous monsters ready to awake and consume him. He was so diminutive and curled up, had he not be freezing and still as a stone he would have looked like a gorgeous cherub; I prayed with every fibre of my being he was alive. With little more hesitation I bounced to the fireplace and unfurled my shivering palms, holding him in the warm aura of the cosy fire. His temperature burned a spot on my palm, like holding an ice cube, but I didn't care; I could make this small sacrifice for his survival. Painfully long seconds passed and still he remained rigid and cold, skin a sickly translucent shade. In a desperate attempt I decided the moist breath of my lungs would aid his recovery, and exhaled my tea-scented miasma onto him. I didn't let up, the desperate moment I was locked in continued for what felt like aeons; my breath, the fire, my palms, all enveloping him in different sources in the vague hope he would thaw.

I was so caught up in my desperate attempt to revive him I didn't even notice the first signs of his survival. His tiny toes and fingers wiggled imperceptibly, and his dainty leg shivered against my skin. It was only when his hips began to crane and awake I felt him, and excitedly I watched on. The small thing was beginning to melt, his stiff, stale body thawing into a softer, healthier coloured one. His once perfect stillness was replaced with a rattling shiver, and this shiver caused his hair to tickle my palm. Eventually it seemed the rattling thing had enough strength to lift his chattering head and open his blinking eyes, looking through me in a delirious state. He stared at me, eyes wide, mouth agape, his dangling blond hair tickling at my tactile skin, and went as still as he could.

The moment stretched on for a second eternity, locked in a shared stare. I couldn't help but smile though, he was alive, and that was all that mattered at the moment. Oh! I had almost forgot, he might be frostbitten. I adjusted his dangling sleeves to better see his hands, still attached to limp arms. He seemed to be cautious of my invasion, but he was too weak to argue. His tiny, millimetre long fingers were all healthy, and his delicate feet had unaffected toes. I carefully checked over his shivering body to be sure he was okay, his presence no longer stinging me to hold, and instead I noticed it was quite an interesting sensation to have something so fine in my grip.

Eventually the shivering stopped, and we returned to gazing at each other, sharing in the toasty air filled with an ambient crackling. I noticed his tiny lips were shivering, not from the residual cold, but from attempted articulation. In a weak, breezy imitation of a voice he spoke, "A-are y-you going to e-eat me?"

His first words to me, and not ones I hoped to hear. The smile I had retained since he stirred had finally dissolved, and it softened into a frown. To think... the poor thing had led a life that would lead him to think I would eat him. I could barely imagine it. "Awww... of course not, I'd never eat you," I replied.

"R-really?"

"Really."

"...p-p-promise?"

"I promise not to eat you."

He seemed slightly put at ease, but as a tiny thing in a strange gigantic room, monstrous girl to boot, he was sensibly reserved. He looked around the fire tinted area, seeming to soak in my quaint room. "Am... am I dead?"

My brows furrowed in confusion, "No?"

"Y-you're n-not an angel?" he squeaked out.

I chuckled, not turning down a compliment when I received one, "No, I'm just a human."

He diverted his eyes and gave one last shiver, shuddering away his final dribbles of hypothermia. He looked below my gaze and began to wiggle his lips, trying to form words, "What a-are you going to d-do with me?"

This was a question I could answer, and I did so with a smile, "I'm going to keep you warm and safe."

"R-really?"

"Really."

"...promise?"

I giggled, "Yes, I promise."

He still seemed unsure, awkwardly wriggling in my palm. He played with his fingers, fidgeting to alleviate his fear. I wanted to nuzzle him into my cheek and hug him, to squeeze away all his fears and tell him he'd be safe with me. But I mustn't be hasty, I'd need to make him feel comfortable, to turn this shrivelled and weary creature into the upbeat and sweet boy I knew he could be. I should start with familiarising myself, "Can you tell me your name?"

He continued to fidget, and after a brief pause he spoke, "My n-name is Sprout."

"My name's Ashley, and it's good to meet ya. Sprout... that's a cute name," I smiled, hoping my small compliment would cheer him from his dour mood.

He didn't seem to respond, still cradling himself. I took this opportunity to gaze at his face, which, in my opinion, seemed to be flawless. The blue of his eyes was difficult to make out but cute, his straw blond hair was pretty, and his skin was so smooth. He had the most precious tinge of apple in his round cheeks, and the tiniest, finest, little button of a nose that was ever on a human being. That nose seemed to be slightly red at the moment, which likely meant...

"Achoo~" he sneezed quietly, like a kitten. His bauble head twitched back as the small puff of air exited his sinuses.

This poor thing, "Awww, you've caught a lil' cold."

He frowned; today wasn't his day it seemed.

It seemed he'd need a little more nurturing until he was better, and I'd gladly give him some tenderness if it meant he would recover. I stood up with steady hands, not allowing him to slip from my palms to a grisly demise. In my desperation to help him I had forgotten I had sat on my haunches for so long, and I wiggled my hips to stretch and continued to peruse his body. Now that it was known he did look quite ill; droopy eyes, sickly complexion, and the slight, awkward sniffling of a stuffy reddened nose; this would take some of my caring instinct. "Y'know what's good for a cold? Soup. I'll fetch us some." I set him on the armrest of my chair, regrettably he'd need to be out of my sight for a little bit; luckily he instantly curled up like a fuzzy animal, so he wouldn't be moving anymore. The vaguest hints of his pale digits protruded from the mass of brown cloth that seemed to be his ineffective clothing. "Wait here, ya lil' cutie, let me get you some food."

---

Sprout was held between my hand and my breast as I cuddled him. His entire body was engulfed in the plump rolls of my palm with only his straw hair sticking out like a cauliflower. Through a thin gap in my lips I blew away the fog rising from the thick liquid, pausing for quick breaths but not stopping until it was nice and cool. "Here comes the aeroplane~" I giggled to myself, holding the silver edge of the spoon to his tiny lips. Imperceptibly he sipped on it, taking up as much as he could handle, before taking a breath. Of course, the bowl at the end was still full; he hadn't even made a dent.

I consumed the rest before dipping it back in to the bowl on my armrest and bringing it back to his lips for him to take another sip.

"Ah... ah... tchu~" was the whispering burst of his sneeze. Microscopic drops sprayed into the thick soup, tainting it with his illness.

I grimaced, "Oh... umm, ewww." I looked down at his tiny face, even from this angle I could see the light rouge on his cheeks. He must have been embarrassed but too scared to speak. I was a little too comfortable with him adjacent to my heart, disposing of the spoonful would ruin the mood. "It's okay lil' guy, see," I poured the soup onto the floor for me to get later, "No trouble at all. Now here's another of those aeroplanes~"

He gladly slurped down a few more micro-litres of soup, until the bowl no longer steamed and was nothing but an empty stained vessel. The little thing was still quite pale, naturally his cold wasn't instantly cured. He seemed to still be in shock, and I couldn't blame him; a giant stranger taking you in and hugging and touching you must have been odd. I bloomed my hand and allowed him to sit in the centre, the tiny bud of a rose. "Was that tasty?"

He did his tiny lip quiver as he tried to make words, "Yes."

I nestled further back in my comfy chair and stroked him tenderly with my other hand. Along his back my finger danced, feeling his thin frame, tiny splinter sized bones and all. Such a delicate creature wasn't meant for harshness, he was destined for the silky touch of my fingers and toasty soup in his belly. Yes, he was to be treated with love; which is why it made my insides turn when I remembered he was left out in the cold. I lay the finger on his stomach and gently nudged him down, onto his back. After a moment of mental deliberation, accepted my 'hug' by resting his arms against my nail. His tiny arms, capped with tinier hands, microscopic little graspers that would struggle to wrap around a matchstick they were so small. "Don't be afraid little guy, I promise I'm really nice," I reassured, wanting to calm him even further.

"Okay... y-you seem nice, and pretty," he said awkwardly, speaking like he was saying whatever popped into his head.

"Well thank you very much! You're not too bad yourself," I said as I fingered at his fine hair, fleecy and thin; a single strand must have been thinner than I could comprehend. "Do you feel better after that soup?"

"I feel a little..." he paused to let out an adorable puff of a cough, "better... H-human food is tasty."

I was struggling to hold back plopping him in my mouth and eating him up he was so adorable. I smiled in self-satisfaction, but eventually my expression petrified, and I remembered his tiny body chilled to the core and on the brink of death. "What was a cute little thing like you doing out on a night like this?"

His youthful face changed from a cautious smile to a pout and a frowned, looking along my giant finger instead of my eyes. "I... I didn't want to be..." he mumbled, it seemed he forgot his voice was weak, and had I not been paying close attention the unnoticeable crackling of the fire would have drowned it out, "My owner left me outside."

If he was astute he would have heard the shattering of my heart; owner? Left outside? "That's... that's terrible!" was the only thing that could be said.

"She... she got bored of me," his voice was becoming croaky, the pressure of tears in his throat.

Bored of him, like a toy, it was something uncomfortable to hear. "Didn't you have anywhere to go? Anyone else?"

"She... she... my mama and papa... she... squished..."

Never before had I heard a more horrible sentence, both in content and delivery. His cherubic, albeit sick, voice was converted into a croaky pained wail; like a devil using his vocal cords as harp. And his parents... this poor thing. His pale face reddened slightly as he approached the verge of tears, and I couldn't handle him crying.

Without a moment of hesitation he was on my cheek and being nuzzled by me, "Shhh, shhh, don't cry, it's okay. I'm here, Ashley's here," I soothed, I wanted nothing more than to make him better. I could feel his darling button nose push against me, like a reminder he was there; he was too cute to be sad. I kneaded him into my soft cheek until I felt he was better, and tucked him tight in my hands and used my thumb to brush his scalp.

"Please don't take me back, she was mean, and she never gave me food, and... and..."

"I won't take you back, she's gone, you won't see her ever again," I reassured, forcing my pad into the back of his head more securely than before.

"R-r-really?"

"Really, you'll be safe with me."

"P-promise?"

I couldn't help but chuckle, "Yes, I promise. You won't see her again. Unless I feel like giving her a piece of my mind."

"Th-thank you Ashley," he smiled, the first time for the night. We enjoyed our smile until... "Achoo~" he sneezed again, his bobble head moving back into my ever-present thumb.

"Are you chilly lil' guy?" I asked, a cheeky plan concocting in my head.

"M-maybe a little... from before," he replied.

With a smile I moved my foot onto the cushion and pinched off my dark sock. With Sprout's tiny size he'd easily fit into the gap between my big and second toe. Confident in my hygiene, I slipped him in, having him straddle the gap like a cute little cowboy on a horse. He hugged the side of my big toe like an environmentalist to a tree and looked at me bewildered. I just gave him a wink and rested the foot in its designated rest. My bare foot now slept with it's new passenger in toe, snugly in the grip of two meaty digits. Here he was close to the crackling fire, soaking up the flame.

He saw what I was trying to do now, and now that he was being warmed by the fire he easily collapsed into the pillar of my big toe and nuzzled. "Goodnight lil' guy, you'll have some breakfast in the morning," I wished to my far-away boy in a 'toe-hug'.

"B-breakfast? Really?" he said excitedly although this added distance of a few feet meant it was slightly more difficult to understand his words.

"Really."

"...Pr-"

"Yes. I promise," I cut him off with a giggle. He seemed unfazed though.

"Ashley, you're the bestest human ever," he said in a voice befitting a tired child, capping it off with a yawn and a nuzzle into my toe. And I gladly accepted the high honour of 'bestest human'.

And like that he was done for the day, the tiny creature I rescued from the brink of death and would protect for the foreseeable future. Sprout, he was cute, he was young, he was innocent. And after only a few hours of knowing him I think I loved him. With his cute, slightly ticklish face tucked in my toes I could sleep easy. And I did so; orange fire behind my feet, toasty clothes sealing in my warmth, comfy chair I could sink into, the silent breathing of winter wind, and the dim tickle of hair and breathing on my lower digits.

Tonight was good.