Heads up here, there's not going to be anything lewd in this story. It is strictly paternal.
Looking for any sort of criticism to help me improve. If you have anything, tell it in /HMoFA/, I'll probably see it.

***

>Be Anon.
>You've been living in your new house for a week now.
>Its the first time you've owned one yourself.
>You got it really cheap too.
>An old lady had been living there for a while until she felt it was too big for her alone. She really wanted to sell before winter struck.
>Apparently she had family in a far away neighborhood.
>You luckily had started scouting for a house around the same time she put it up for sale.
>The house itself wasn't half bad.
>Two-story,
>Well furnished kitchen and dining room,
>Spacious living room,
>Very spacious overall in fact.
>Partly due to how few of your belongings you had brought with you.
>Of course you'd be adding more stuff to make your house truly yours, but for now you didn't want to go splurging just yet.
>Even if your parents decided they'd be sending you money every month, despite your multiple refusals.
>You knew they just wanted to ensure your financial stability after purchasing a house, but you can't help but feel they don't have enough faith in your responsibility. You already have a budget planned.
>Your parent's money is going straight towards your savings account or paying bills.
>Work at your new job starts in a few days.
>It's in the city, but still very close to your suburban neighborhood. You could walk there with ease as long as you wake up early, but you still planned to get a car sometime in the future.
>For now you've stayed within your neighborhood.
>Before you moved in, you were warned that this area was fairly populated with anthros, which concerned your parents.
>Human-Anthro relations haven't been the best.
>Things today are definitely better than they used to be, but there are still many people on both sides who aren't comfortable being around the other.
>And unfortunately, every now and then, there'd be something tragic on the news to reflect that.
>To be honest, you weren't exactly sure your parents were concerned because of the violence they've seen on the TV...
>Or simply that they didn't like anthros.
>Either way they were slightly relieved when you learned that no anthros actually lived in your neighborhood.
>Only apartments in the city.
>Your parents want you to do your work from home as soon as your manager will allow it.
>But if you do work at home, it'll be your own decision.
>...
>You blink, then rub the sleep from your eyes.
>You've been sitting up in bed for a while now, lost in thought.
>Today, you had decided, you were going to try and get more acquainted with your neighbors.
>You stand up, feeling the pops in your back as you stretch, and head for your shower.
>
>"And we got married in that very backyard," Mrs. Norcott gestures to the sliding glass door leading outside.
>She's grinning ear to ear.
>"Really?" You were trying not to space off in the elderly Norcotts' living room.
>When you knocked on their door to introduce yourself, you hadn't expected them to invite you in.
>You also didn't expect them to tell you the story of their development from middle school sweethearts to husband and wife in detail.
>In LOTS of detail.
>Your tea was finished long ago.
>You'd been meaning to sneak a look at the clock just to see how much time has passed, but you refrained. Don't want to be rude during your first visit with your new neighbors.
>"Fancy marriages are a scam!" Mr. Norcott adds from kitchen.
>"Popularized by those who can make a profit off of them!"
>"Huh," you respond.
>He emerges from the kitchen with three more glasses of tea.
>"Our marriage was better than any of those wedding planners could have done anyway," he affirms with confidence. His wife nods in agreement.
>"You see, we put the whole thing together with the help of our family and friends. Oh! Remember what Mrs. Aberdeen prepared for us, Mikey?"
>That name rang a bell to you.
>"Mrs. Aberdeen? You mean the lady who sold me her house?"
>"Yes, that was her," Mrs. Norcott's face turns somber for the first time you've been there.
>Her husband doesn't seem too cheery either.
>"But I'm certain you'll be just as good a neighbor as she was," Mrs. Norcott lifts her expression to a weak smile.
>"Thank you."
>"So Anon, what are you doing for a living?" The husband asks in what you think is an attempt to move on from the subject.
>"I'm going to be working in the city for an advertisement agency. Stuff involving graphic design and even a little bit of website development."
>"In the city you say?"
>"Yeah."
>Mr. Norcott stares at you for a while, lightly nodding.
>"Watch your back in the city Anon. Things can get a little more...unruly out there," he says.
>You're unnerved slightly at his tone.
>"How so?"
>"Well...not the most friendly people live there."
>"Oh."
>The both of them aren't looking at you anymore, rather their eyes are fixed on their tea.
>They're sitting completely still.
>...
>Silence.
>...
>All of the sudden you don't want to be here anymore.
>You're unsure why, but you feel like you just need to get out of here.
>"Thanks again for the tea," you say as you stand.
>"I need to get going."
>Mrs. Norcott looks up at you, trying to offer another smile.
>"It was nice meeting you Anon."
>"You too. Have a good rest of your morning."
>They don't say anything more as you make your way to the door.
>You finally get a glance at the clock.
>It's past noon.
>
>The Norcotts live to the left of your house.
>After finishing your lunch you decided you'd would would introduce yourself to your neighbors to the right.
>You were a little hesitant about it after whatever that was at the Norcotts.
>You've been feeling uneasy since then.
>But you realized that you didn't have anything to do otherwise.
>Your newish laptop has been just about been your only source of entertainment.
>Might as well knock this out now.
>You get to your neighbors' front step and ring the doorbell.
>From inside you can hear the excited giggles of a child.
>Then a stern, female voice.
>You've actually seen the woman who lives here before, stepping outside to get her mail.
>You've also seen her with what you assume to be her husband.
>They were much younger than the Norcotts.
>The door opens, and you're face to face with the woman.
>"Hello?"
>She studies you, seemingly wondering if she's supposed to recognize who who you are.
>"Afternoon, I'm Anon. I just moved into the neighborhood, right next to you actually. I just wanted to introduce myself," you say.
>"Amy McHugh," she returns, smiling and extending her arm.
>You shake it.
>"Welcome to the neighborhood."
>She peers over to your house.
>Before either of you can say anything else, the child's voice calls out from inside.
>"Moooooom! Can I play outside?"
>"In a minute!" Amy calls back before turning to you again.
>"Saturdays are always a handful," she says smiling to herself.
>"I'll get out of your way then. Nice meeting you."
>"Have a good one," she waves as you leave.
>You give a small wave back.
>Only when he hear the door click shut do you breathe a sigh of relief.
>You were really glad she didn't invite you in
>You didn't want to spend a few hours in another Norcott situation.
>Giving a simple introduction was all you came to do.
>The question is what to do now.
>You have nothing left to unpack,
>You've introduced yourself to your next door neighbors,
>Work doesn't start till two days,
>Maybe you should explore the city a bit before it gets dark out. Find a good place to eat.
>Your stockpile of miscellaneous microwaveable foods got tiring long ago.
>But...
>You can't help but remember what Mr. Norcott said.
>Maybe on second thought, it'd be better if you stay home.
>...
>No. You aren't going to be avoiding the city.
>That's stupid. You're going to be working there soon.
>You're blowing implications way out of proportion for no apparent reason.
>If there really is going to be a problem, it'll be something you see for yourself.
>You head home to grab a jacket.
>
>The city sure was something else.
>The tall concrete towers were to be expected, but it was still jarring how quickly the suburbs turned urban.
>Your house's distance from work wasn't going to be a problem.
>The next jarring aspect was the sudden appearance of anthros.
>Mammals, reptiles, avians...
>You swear you saw some kind of praying mantis in the distance.
>Humans still made up the majority of the population.
>But this is still the most anthros in one place you've ever seen.
>In the past, you really only remembered seeing the occasional anthro at supermarkets or school.
>You don't think you've ever directly interacted with one.
>After a while you took notice that even though anthros were still a minority,
>They were a heavy majority of the homeless population.
>It became more and more evident as you traveled downtown.
>You're unsure what to make of it.
>You're also unsure if you should care.
>It's not like you haven't seen a homeless person before.
>You see even more anthros in the variety of shops and stores you pass.
>A few advertise products specifically tailored to certain types of anthros, particularly clothing stores.
>You make mental notes on places you might want to return to.
>For now you were looking for a place to eat.
>You spot a fast food joint at the corner of an intersection.
>Probably not the best this city had to offer, but you were looking for something cheap and quick.
>Pushing open the doors, you find the place is completely empty.
>Except for a wolf in uniform behind the counter.
>He's giving you a real funny look.
>Squinting as if he can't quite see you nine feet away.
>It makes you a little uncomfortable.
>You step inside, trying to look at the menu rather than him.
>They had a few different burger variations,
>A couple sandwiches,
>Plastic-looking salads...
>"Hey, humie. You new or what?"
>He almost startles you. Your eyes snap back down towards him.
>He's still giving you that look.
>"Huh?"
>"Humans don't usually come here."
>You don't know where he's going with this.
>How're you supposed to respond to that?
>"Do you not serve humans?" You guess. You hadn't thought of the possibility that some place might restrict which kind of people they serve.
>Were businesses allowed to do that?
>"No, we do. When they come here that is."
>Alright...? You're here aren't you?
>A few seconds of uncomfortable silence pass.
>You turn back to the menu realizing he's probably waiting for you to make your order.
>Maybe you'll try-
>"You didn't answer my question."
>"What?"
>"I said, are you new here?"
>You're a little taken aback.
>Maybe because it was the first time you've ever actually spoken to an anthro.
>Or possibly there was something about this wolf that told you he wants you out.
>"Yeah... Just got here last week."
>The wolf ponders this for a second, eyes still fixated on you.
>"The apartments across the street?"
>"No, I got a house in the surburbs nearby."
>"Hm." The wolf nods at that.
>"Figures. Why would a humie want to move in here? God knows-"
>He's interrupted as the entrance doors are forcibly opened by an older weasel man in the same uniform as the wolf.
>"Larry! Are you harassing my customers again?"
>The wolf, Larry apparently, finally breaks eye contact with you, giving fearful attention to the newcomer.
>"No boss!"
>"I know what I heard!"
>The weasel anthro turns to you for a second, giving a bashful smile.
>"My apologies sir, I assure you we have no qualms with humans. Please wait here."
>His expression performs a 180 as he faces Larry again.
>"Kitchen, now!"
>Larry grits his teeth as his boss steers him to the back of the building.
>Before they're completely out of sight, you catch Larry trying to whisper to the weasel's ear.
>"Come on man... I don't want to have to move back in with my parents...."
>You could tell that was louder than he wanted to sound.
>Now alone, you're left a little dumbstruck.
>You aren't sure you want to stay after that interaction.
>Leaving would probably seal the fate of that wolf's job.
>You also aren't sure if that's a good or bad thing.
>A new anthro emerges from the kitchen.
>Some kind of white-feathered bird.
>"I'll take your order when you're ready, sir," she speaks with recited politeness.
>"Uh, yeah. I'll take a number 3."
>You hadn't looked over the whole menu yet,
>But you didn't want to stay here longer than you needed to.
>You reach for your wallet, but the bird stops you.
>"No no, it's on the house. Would you like a drink with that?"
>Well that's nice.
>"Sure. Thanks."
>She offers you a cup.
>"Hey, uh, could I have my order to-go?"
>"Of course."
>She retreats back to the kitchen.
>
>You don't see Larry again.
>Just his boss handing you your order and apologizing on his behalf.
>You tell him you didn't mind.
>You were glad to get out of there.
>When you were waiting, two sheep anthros had walked in.
>They were giving you more curious looks.
>You think you understood why once you stepped outside.
>Only anthros seemed to have been entering and exiting the apartment complex Larry mentioned.
>Almost the same for the buildings around it.
>Apparently this part of town was more anthro-oriented.
>Dinner in hand, you begin your trip back home.
>
>Your burger is bland and mediocre.
>Typical of fast food, you guess.
>Still better than whatever you could throw into the microwave though.
>God you were getting sick of that stuff.
>You'd go grocery shopping if you had a car.
>Pretty sure you remember a dealership in the city's outer rim.
>But you weren't sure if you wanted to start facing car payments just yet.
>Too late to go there today anyway.
>Not that you wanted to go just after getting home.
>You put your trash into the to-go bag and throw it away.
>You can't stop thinking about how that wolf spoke to you.
>It shouldn't bother you so much, but it does for some reason.
>You try to preoccupy your mind with your laptop.
>You search for stores and dealerships near you for future reference, among other things.
>But it doesn't take long for you to get bored and turn it off.
>You think about calling your parents, but it's later than you thought.
>They'd be sleeping about now. You don't want to risk waking them up just cause you had nothing better to do.
>Someone else?
>...
>You can't think of anyone.
>You haven't talked to any of your close friends in years.
>Those ties just sort of deteriorated over time.
>You don't have their numbers anyway.
>...
>You've just noticed how quiet it is.
>Absolutely silent.
>No wind blowing,
>No insects chirping,
>No cars driving by,
>Nothing.
>You peer out the window.
>It's dark.
>No houses have their lights on, at least from where you're looking.
>It must be a new moon out as well.
>You sit back in your chair.
>And for a minute, that's the only thing you do.
>Alone with nothing to do in this big empty house.
>You wonder if this was how Mrs. Aberdeen felt.

***

>Sunday isn't too different.
>You spend most of the morning in bed.
>Only getting up once you were hungry for breakfast.
>Afterwords you bide your time by organizing the house.
>It doesn't take long, there's barely anything TO organize.
>You make sure the clothes you're going to wear to work tomorrow aren't dirty or crinkled.
>You're startled by the loud ringing of your phone.
>It really is too quiet here.
>You look at your phone.
>It's Mom.
>"Hey Mom."
>"Anon honey, how're you holding up?"
>"Fine, fine. Just getting ready for work tomorrow."
>"Ah, that's good. Any problems with the house?"
>"No, it's a really nice house. I really was lucky to get it so cheap."
>"You know, we were worried there'd be something wrong with that house with how cheap that lady was selling it for."
>"Well I haven't run into any problems with it so far. The neighbors seem friendly, and being so close to the city is a plus."
>She doesn't respond right away.
>"...You are being careful around the city, aren't you?"
>"Come on Mom. Stop worrying about it, I'll be fine. Tell that to Dad too."
>"We can't help it Anon. With so many anthros there..."
>You get an urge to change the subject.
>"So how are you and Dad doing? Is Dad there?"
>"Oh! Hold on."
>Her voice becomes distant.
>"Danny! Come take the phone, it's Anon!"
>You hear your dad call back something the receiver can't pick up entirely.
>Then some shuffling.
>"Anon! How'ya doing?"
>"Hey Dad. What've I been missing out on over there?"
>"Nothing interesting, that's for sure. Well, some idiot teenager almost rear-ended the car."
>"What? How fast was he going?"
>"Too fast on ice."
>"Ice? Did it snow over there?"
>"Friday night, yeah. Came down hard. I'm getting too old to shovel the driveway. Next time you're coming back down here and helping your old man out, I don't care how far away you live from us now."
>A joke, obviously. You live more than a day away from them.
>"Heh... Sure Dad."
>"But seriously, you oughta be prepared for cold weather over there. The weatherman keeps saying its gonna be a harsh winter."
>Then your mom's voice,
>"Anon, have you gotten a car yet? I know you're close enough to your job to walk, but I don't want you walking when it's so cold out."
>"Soon, I promise."
>"Are you running low on cash? If you want, we can-"
>"No, stop right there. I've barely spent a thing since I got here. I'm fine."
>"Are you sure?"
>"Yes."
>Your mom doesn't say anything to respond.
>...
>Your dad breaks the silence.
>"...Are you being careful around the city?"
>You love your parents, but they can really get overbearing at times.
>You can guess why.
>When you were young, your grandmother told you that your parents always talked about wanting a lot of children before you were born.
>She accidentally let slip to you that your parents were trying for more.
>You're an only child.

***

>You awaken to an alarm for the first time in a while,
>Take a shower,
>Get dressed,
>Eat breakfast,
>Grab a jacket,
>Step outside,
>And lock the door.
>Time for your first day at work.
>It's barely dawn out.
>A downside of walking to work means getting up even earlier than usual.
>The early morning suburbs are desolate.
>You don't see a sign of life until you get to the city.
>Mostly cars and the homeless.
>You arrive without any problems.
>Your branch is smaller than one would expect, especially for a well populated city.
>For an advertising agency, it ironically isn't very distinct.
>You push through the glass doors to find a human receptionist.
>You walk up to the desk.
>"Hello sir, can I help you?"
>"Hi, I'm Anon Mous. I just got a job here."
>"How is that spelled?"
>"M-O-U-S."
>"Just a second..."
>The receptionist types something into his computer and clicks on whatever his search yielded.
>"Yes, you'll need to head to the second floor. I'll phone the manager to meet you there."
>"Uh, Thanks." You give an awkward nod and turn to the elevator.
>Pressing the up button, you hear the receptionist dial a number in.
>"Ms. Ceight? Mr. Mous has arrived..."
>The elevator doors open.
>Ceight? That was one person you had sent your resume to for this job.
>"He'll be waiting on the second floor."
>If there's more to that conversation, you don't hear it. The elevator doors block out his voice when they close.
>You never actually had a face-to-face interview with your future employers. Not even any type of video chat. Just back and forth emails.
>The job was suspiciously easy to get now that you think about it.
>All you really needed to do was verify your qualifications.
>The elevator dings and the doors open.
>You step out into a short hallway.
>Distant voices and computer keys clacking can be heard from where you stand.
>Before you ask yourself if you should wait by the elevator or not, the problem answers itself.
>A tall woman appears from the end of the hallway.
>Very tall.
>As in, she's a giraffe.
>"Anon Mous?"
>"Y-Yeah, that's me."
>You walk over and shake her hand.
>"Rubia Ceight. Manager and Art Director of this branch."
>"Nice to meet you."
>You need to crane your neck to keep eye contact.
>She's wearing dark boardroom attire and a pair of thin, circular glasses.
>You release your grip.
>"Why don't you follow me?"
>Rubia leads you into an open office space.
>It's mostly what you expected.
>Rectangular desks and computers.
>There are already a few people strewn about, seemingly in groups.
>Among the multiple humans, you only spot a few anthros.
>Your and Rubia's arrival turn a few heads.
>"This is where you'll be doing most of your work. Your computer is over there, by McHugh, Morrison, and Kohlburry."
>McHugh?
>She gestures to a lone computer at the far edge of a table.
>There's a human male and female across from your monitor.
>Next to it, a doe lady.
>"They're working with a client about a new toy store in the area. They can help you get situated. I need to prepare for a meeting if that's not a problem."
>"No problem. Thank you, Ms. Ceight."
>You hold out your hand to shake hers again.
>Was that excessive?
>Regardless, she shakes it.
>"Welcome to the team, Anon." She gives you a warm smile.
>You do your best to give one back.
>When you let go, she retreats to a room with her name on the door.
>You turn to your desk.
>The three people are staring curiously at you.
>You clear your throat and walk over.
>Before you can introduce yourself, the man speaks.
>"You're Anon Mous, aren't you? Ceight told us to be ready to show you the ropes."
>The human woman speaks up.
>"I'm Jane Morrison."
>Then the doe.
>"Reita Kohlburry."
>And finally the man.
>"Gregory McHugh."
>"Is Amy your wife?"
>"Oh, do you know her?"
>"Not really, no. I just moved in next to you."
>"Really? What are the chances?"
>You shrug and take your seat next to the doe.
>She looks you over for a second, but says nothing.
>Greg and Jane do most of the explaining.
>
>The day is long, but it wasn't bad.
>You're taught the basic ins and outs of the functions for the company.
>Work is smooth, if not a little uneventful.
>It's late when you clock out.
>Greg offers you a ride home, but you politely refused.
>Perhaps that wasn't a good idea, as you find yourself walking in a fairly empty area of the city, alone and in the dark.
>Your paranoia prompts you to peer into every alleyway you pass.
>You have your wallet on you, with quite a bit of money.
>Empty...
>Empty...
>Empty...
>"Spare some change, sir?"
>You jump.
>An anthro, a wolf by the looks of it, holds out a grimy plastic cup.
>There's nothing in it.
>He's wearing a ripped up coat a size too small.
>Strangely, although the coat is torn, it looks...clean?
>"Please sir. My daughter and I need money."
>He gestures further into the alley.
>There's a little wolf girl sitting on a blanket, staring at you.
>She's in terrible shape.
>Her gray fur is all ruffled and pointed in every direction.
>It's stained, similarly to her long purple dress.
>It doesn't look like she's had a filling meal in forever.
>She doesn't even have a coat like her father.
>She looks absolutely miserable staring blankly at you.
>You turn your attention back to the father.
>You don't entirely know how to respond to this...
>But you're not going to deny them money. The girl looks no older than eleven.
>"Uh...yeah, here."
>You reach for your wallet, and sift through your bills.
>As you do, you notice the father is now avoiding your gaze.
>He looks familiar...
>He sounded familiar too, actually...
>You focus on him instead of the bills.
>"...Larry?"
>He flinches.
>"Who's that?"
>He's trying to make his voice sound deeper.
>Something's up.
>You tuck your wallet back into your pocket.
>"Hey, you mentioned something about moving back with your parents, didn't you?"
>He doesn't respond.
>"You don't need this money, do you?"
>Larry turns his back to you, facing the young wolf.
>In an assertive, almost hostile voice,
>"Get off."
>She scrambles off the blanket.
>Larry peels it up, revealing a cheap looking tote bag.
>Slowly, he lifts it up to himself and peers in.
>You notice the girl is also a little unnerved at whatever is happening.
>It looks like she wants to ask him something, but can't quite get the courage to do so.
>Larry keeps the opening of the bag folded shut with his hands.
>He looks at you for a second.
>And fucking books it out of there, pushing you aside so hard you nearly fall over.
>Trying to regain your balance before you get a face full of concrete, you hear the wolf girl speak for the first time.
>"H-Hey! Mister! Come back!"
>She tries running after him, but only makes it one step before tripping over the discarded blanket.
>She probably scraped something.
>By an instinct you weren't aware you had, you hurry over to help her sit up.
>"Hey, are you okay?"
>Obviously not, but it's all you can think to say.
>She sniffles.
>Her eyes are wet with tears.
>She stares at the ground.
>"That man. Is he really your dad?"
>She shakes her head.
>It looks like she's hesitant to speak.
>"H-He said we'd get m-more money if we pretended he was... B-but he took it all..."
>You know all of this is absolutely none of your business, nor should you be involved, but you can't help yourself.
>She looks so helpless.
>"Where is your dad?"
>She gives a weak shrug.
>"Your mom?"
>Another shrug.
>"...Who takes care of you?"
>"...Nobody."
>Another sniffle.
>"What? Have you been to a foster center?"
>"They don't have enough money anymore."
>"Why weren't you moved to a new one?"
>"...Humans only."
>She's trying hard to fight back tears.
>It's not working.
>You don't know what to say.
>This homeless child is living by herself in the city...
>Then the realization finally hits you.
>What the hell are you doing?
>A grown man,
>Talking to a little girl,
>Obviously not related,
>Alone in an alleyway.
>You can't stay here. You're lucky nobody's passed by the two of you yet.
>...
>But you can't just leave her like this.
>You take off your jacket and place it over her back.
>She freezes at this.
>You bring out your wallet again, and pull out a few twenties.
>Her eyes widen at the amount of money you're offering her.
>You're surprised she can see the value of the bills through her tears.
>She grips it with a shaking hand.
>"Keep that money hidden, alright? It's only for you."
>She's still in awe, but nods.
>Time to get out of here before someone mistakes you for a predator.
>You stand up and take your leave.
>You can't help but feel you should have done more.
>You were overcome with some emotion you aren't familiar with.
>Pity? No, it was more than that.
>Before you're out of hearing distance, she whispers something.
>"Thank you."
>
>You step into your house, relieved to finally get out of the cold.
>What a difference one jacket can make.
>You hope it's helping that wolf girl.
>She has fur too, but can it really block out weather this cold?
>You can't stop thinking about her.
>She's just a little girl...
>No relatives to help guide and protect her from whatever homelessness has in store for her.
>It's out of your control though.
>What could you even do? Take her to your place?
>Hope you don't mind moving to a prison cell and having your reputation ruined forever.
>Creep.
>You kick off your shoes and scan the pantry for something to eat.
>But...
>What if there ARE creeps out there? Ones who'd...
>No.
>No, you're not going to think about that.
>This isn't your problem.
>You shouldn't be thinking about the "what if"s, you should be moving on.
>There's nothing you can do.
>You can't just take her in.
>"No officer, I brought her to my house so she could be SAFE from those kinds of people! Please believe me!"
>It's not like you're equipped to take care of her anyway.
>You find a can of soup.
>It's tomato.
>You get out a pot to heat it up in.
>Placing it on a burner, you stare at the red paste as it begins to heat up.
>...
>She trusted Larry, a complete stranger to her.
>He never intended to hurt her.
>But what if it was someone else?
>...
>The soup starts to bubble, so you stir it a little.
>...
>That money you gave her...
>Is it going to help her?
>Or is it just putting a target on her back?
>Obviously there are other homeless out there, people with incentive to steal it from her.
>Maybe with force.
>Who's to say they'll hold back just because she's a kid?
>If anything, that-
>No, stop thinking about it.
>This isn't your problem.
>Child Protective Services or something will find and help her.
>...
>Then why hasn't that already happened?
>She was at a foster center before. Where were they there when it went broke?
>Your soup's done.
>You turn off the burner and grab a bowl.
>She's still out on the streets.
>And it looked like she'd been there for a while.
>With the sheer number of people who live in the city, you can't deny some of them could be dangerous.
>You fear that one day you'll peer into an alleyway, and find her...
>You shiver.
>You look at your tomato soup,
>And dump it.
>You've lost your appetite.
>You decide to just go to bed.
>Unsurprisingly, sleep doesn't come easy.

***

>The alarm sounds much more obnoxious today than yesterday.
>Probably because it took hours for you to actually fall asleep.
>Why was that again?
>...
>Oh yeah. Her.
>Great, now she's going to be stuck on your mind again.
>You get out of bed and prepare to take a shower.
>Unfortunately, said shower not only wakes you up, but amplifies your worries.
>Where did she go to sleep?
>Could she have gotten hurt during the night?
>Does she still have the money you gave her?
>You try your best to push them out of your head, but your thoughts always loop back around.
>Regardless, you aren't going to be late for work.
>You make yourself a quick breakfast and brush your teeth.
>You have a spare jacket your mother insisted you take.
>Apparently she was right, you do need it now that you gave away your old one.
>You slip it on and step outside.
>It's gotten colder out.
>The wind chill certainly isn't helping.
>But you begin on your route to work just like yesterday.
>You can't help but keep your eyes peeled for the wolf girl.
>You really want some sort of confirmation that she's okay.
>No luck though, by the time you get to the agency you still hadn't seen her.
>The receptionist is at the desk once again.
>He checks you in, and you head toward the elevator.
>Time for day number two of your job.
>
>"Oh, I forgot to ask. Anon," Greg peers over his computer.
>You're pulled out of your thoughts when you hear your name.
>Was he talking before?
>"Did you make it home okay?"
>"Huh? Oh, yeah."
>Greg opens his mouth to speak again, but instead eyes Reita for a second.
>Whatever he was going to say, he decided against it.
>Jane speaks instead.
>"Must've gotten cold out there."
>"A little, yeah. It wasn't really a problem."
>"It could be today. Did you check the weather?"
>"No. What does it say?"
>"Snowstorm's moving in sometime soon."
>For some reason your stomach drops when you hear that.
>You can brave the cold from the distance to your house, so why did that make you so uneasy.
>"What? When?"
>"Sometime late tonight apparently. Ceight will probably send us home an hour early anyway though, just so we can start driving before the snow piles up."
>That's fine then. You'll probably be home before it even starts.
>So why do you still feel so nervous?
>It doesn't take you long to realize.
>She's still out there.
>She's going to freeze.
>No, you don't know that for sure.
>Stop worrying.
>That's not your business, nor is it your duty to do anything about it.
>She'll find someplace to stay.
>Someone else will help her.
>But what if they take advantage of her trust?
>What if they...
>Stop.
>You're doing it again.
>There's nothing you can reasonably-
>"Anon? Hello?"
>Your thoughts are interrupted once more.
>Your eyes shift to Jane.
>She looks a little concerned.
>Actually, so does Greg and Reita.
>"You look a little out of it," Jane says.
>You blink.
>"It's nothing. Don't worry about it."
>You don't sound very convincing, but they don't press.
>Instead the three of you somewhat awkwardly place your attention back to work.
>Or at least, they did.
>You tried to, but the miserable image of that wolf girl in your memory makes it hard.
>Why can't you just move on with your life?
>No matter how many times you tell yourself you aren't responsible for whatever could happen to her, your subconscious ignores it.
>You give it some thought.
>You're so concerned about that wolf, yet you never learned her name.
>With that in mind, what would you think if you learned she died out there?
>...
>It'd never leave your conscious, would it?
>That realization terrifies you.
>You could have done something.
>But you didn't.
>She would still be alive if you didn't turn your head and look the other way.
>She was so young.
>You can't undue death.
>It's your fault.
>You didn't help her.
>It's all your fault.
>All. Your. Fault.
>...
>You don't want to live with that regret.
>You know yourself. Even if it's not really your fault, it's going to feel like it is for a long time.
>Quite possibly for the rest of your life.
>Although ill advised, you still have time to do something about the situation.
>Find and take her to your house.
>Unfortunately, said solution will give people the wrong idea.
>VERY wrong ideas.
>It'd have to be a secret.
>Which makes you seem even more like a creep...
>Why are you even beginning to consider going through with this?
>And why can't you stop?
>You must have inhaled some bad fumes in the city or something, because right now a decision that could easily ruin your life is starting to win you over.
>No matter how good your intentions, consequences will hit just as hard.
>But on the other hand...
>How much longer can she survive on the street?
>She's so young, with nobody to rely on.
>Maybe not today, but eventually...
>She will die out there.
>Your monitor shuts off from inactivity.
>You stare at yourself in the reflection.
>It looks so tired, like all it wants is to sleep off a bad day.
>Just like her.
>You can't believe what you're thinking, but...
>You're going to help her.

***

>Just like Jane predicted, Rubia allowed the office the leave early if anyone thought the snowfall would become a problem driving home.
>You hoped it didn't look unprofessional with how fast you got out of there, but you were in a hurry.
>You spent your entire lunch break today finding a place to rent a car and working out the details.
>Found a place within walking distance and called them ahead of time.
>Although hastily, you managed to reserve a car for yourself.
>The walk there was uneventful, but those puffy clouds rolling in were much more ominous than they had any right to be.
>Getting the car wasn't hard.
>After showing your license and an upfront payment, it's yours for a week.
>Small and slim with a black paint job.
>That's as discrete as a rental car can be, right?
>As you start the car, you try to think of the most likely places you could possibly find her in the city.
>There's that one row of alleyways you saw her at. And...
>...
>Shit. This part is going to be more tedious than you anticipated.
>In retrospect, you should have expected that finding one particular stranger somewhere in a city with almost nothing to go off of would be time consuming.
>With a low success rate too.
>If you don't end up finding her, you'll have wasted money for the car as well as a whole lot of your time.
>You question why such obvious deterrents were only brought to your attention now.
>The only answer you can come up with was that you were too worried to think logically when you made this decision.
>Whatever the reason, you aren't going to get a refund.
>You lift the parking break and begin your search.
>
>The longer you drive, the more you realize what a bad idea this is.
>And you've been driving for a while.
>Snow's been falling moderately hard, and apparently it's only supposed to get worse.
>You can't tell if the sun has set yet over the thick canvas of clouds.
>You're just wasting your time.
>Maybe it's for the better if you don't find her.
>What would your parents think if you were caught?
>You'd no doubt lose your job, and struggle to find any other decent one.
>If you go to prison, you won't be able to pay your mortgage and bills on time.
>If not, your neighbors will make certain that you move away anyway, especially since the McHughs have a kid.
>You really don't know what'll happen, but it won't be good.
>It's so easy to turn the car around and drive home.
>In theory at least.
>No matter what you think, it feels as though your brain is detached from your body, because you never make any sort of effort to commit giving up the search.
>So for now, part of you hopes you don't find her.
>But the other doesn't want to imagine her suffering out there.
>Or dead.
>
>You've noticed there's a lot less traffic in anthro-populated areas.
>Less people in general even.
>There was absolutely nobody around the backstreet you were cruising in.
>Not from your point of view at least.
>Just trash, bottles, and chain link fences at the backs of faded, unlabeled buildings.
>Not exactly a place you want to spend a lot of time at alone.
>Your brain tells you to leave and go home again.
>Sounds just as tempting as the last ten times, but like before, your better judgement is ignored.
>You haven't been feeling like yourself these past 24 hours. You've never tried anything close to this before.
>It's not hard to imagine what kinds of miscreants lurk these corners, and how they could place your life in danger in the blink of an eye.
>And yet you're still here.
>Maybe at this point you're just too tired to completely process the situation well.
>It feels like you've been on autopilot for a while.
>All this time looking though shadows and snow is really taking its toll.
>You imagine how good it would feel to just be in your warm bed as the snow builds up.
>You don't remember your mattress being anything special, but if it didn't sound appealing right now...
>The coincidental sight of a ragged blanket behind a fence puts a stop to your thoughts that would have caused you to completely overlook the whole area.
>Mentally, you remark how fitting the blanket is in relation to your daydreaming.
>You almost turn your head and give it no second thought...
>But there was something about that blanket.
>...
>Wasn't that the same one Larry used to hide the money?
>The one the little girl tripped over?
>It looks similar, at least from what you can remember.
>Something stirs underneath it.
>A little gray snout, and a pair of glossy eyes, peek out from the cloth.
>Oh shit.
>It's actually her.
>You actually found her.
>You're immensely relieved and terrified at the same time.
>On one hand, you now know she's okay.
>On the other, you have to go through with your plan.
>It's hard to see in the dark, but you can tell she's watching you from the other side of the fence.
>You put the car into park and turn off the lights.
>This probably looks sketchy as fuck right now.
>You roll down the passenger side window so she can see you better, and you gesture for her to come over.
>Scratch "probably", this could not look any more misleading.
>Although you try to keep a calm resolve, your heart is thudding rapidly in your chest.
>If anybody sees this, you're done for.
>She stares at you, unmoving.
>You actually thought that would work? Of course she wouldn't approach some random stranger in their car at night, especially when there's nobody else arou-
>The wolf stands up, draping the blanket over her shoulder.
>Very cautiously, she trudges through the snow and approaches the fence.
>There's no way...
>Despite every possible red flag presented to her, she ducks down and crawls under an opening shredded at the bottom of the fence to get to you.
>Thank god that you found her before anyone with less savory ideas.
>Suddenly you feel a bit more assured about what you're doing.
>She stands at the side of your car, peering in at you through the open window.
>She's wearing a puffy white coat with the tag still on.
>Her curious but miserable eyes lock with yours.
>She stands still with an awkward silence.
>"Hey, uh, why don't you get in? Just for a second."
>You hate how much of a creep you must sound.
>It takes her a second to place her attention on the door handle.
>It almost seems like she's worried she could break it with how softly she pulled on it.
>She scooches in the seat and gently closes the door, almost failing to click it shut.
>You don't like how easy that was.
>She's completely silent.
>You're still very nervous that this is actually happening, and you struggle to think of what to say.
>With how bad this looks, you need to set something straight.
>"So... Before I get to it, I want you to understand that if at any point you feel at all threatened or uncomfortable, you can get out and leave. Alright?"
>The expression she gives you is only that of confusion, like she doesn't grasp the possible implications at all.
>Maybe you really are doing the right thing...
>"Er... What's your name? I'm Anon."
>She stares at her folded hands in her lap.
>"Sophia," her voice is subtle and timid.
>Now for the next part... How exactly to you ask if she'll be okay with you taking her in?
>As you plan it out, she speaks again.
>"Thank you for helping me, I haven't spent all of the money, if you want it back...."
>"No no, that's fine. I see you bought a new coat with some of it. Did you know it was going to snow?" Maybe breaking the ice a bit first would be a good idea?
>"No, I just don't like being cold...."
>You feel your heart sink a little.
>She turns her eyes to you for a second before focusing back at her lap.
>Having a limited experience with anthros, it's sometimes hard to read their facial expressions.
>At first you thought she appeared worryingly apathetic, like she's been used to living like this for a long time.
>But looking closer, you now find traces of nervousness and haggard depression.
>You clear your throat.
>"Do you have anybody that takes care of you? After the foster center was shut down?"
>She shakes her head.
>"N-No."
>You almost don't notice her eyes beginning to water.
>Fuck, maybe now's the time to pop the question.
>Here goes nothing.
>"Sophia, listen. If you're okay with it, I can take care of you. Is that something you'd want?"
>She jolts a bit in her seat, and her eyes widen. Her attention shifts completely to you.
>"W... What?"
>"Only if you want to. I'll give you food and shelter, but you can leave whenever you want. I can't promise that I'll be an exceptional host, but I try my best. I know you hardly know me, but if there's nobody else who can take care of you...."
>You trail off. Listing off what could happen to her... You don't want to scare her into making a decision. It needs to be her own.
>Sophia stares at you, wordless. But eventually, she speaks.
>"I don't understand."
>"Huh?"
>"Why... Wh...."
>She's shaking in her seat.
>"...Why would you want to help me?"
>Her tone sounds guilty, almost shameful. Her ears flatten against her head.
>"Well, you're too young to be living out there. Especially when it's not your fault you have nowhere to go."
>She turns away from you again.
>"...I don't want to bother you."
>Bothering you? Is that really her main concern?
>"You won't, I promise."
>Can you really? You know her about as much as she knows you.
>The wolf stays silent. You can't see her face turned away from you.
>"I only want to help if you're okay with it. If you're uncomfortable with the idea, you can leave. I won't stop you."
>More silence.
>"You can take your time."
>You're surprised how well composed you've been so far. Sophia's decision isn't only going to impact her.
>If she doesn't want your help, things will go back to normal... Hopefully. You can't feel guilty if she herself refused your aid, right?
>And if she does decide to go with you...
>You'd be taking on a whole lot of risk and responsibility.
>Not only will you be taking care of a child, something you've only partially done in babysitting, you're fairly certain that this is illegal.
>Why you're so intent on doing this then, you still aren't sure.
>To get her off the streets, obviously. But resorting to this? What's gotten into you?
>You look out into the dark street, your heartbeat beginning to pick up again in paranoia.
>"You mean it?"
>You nearly dent the roof of the car as you jump in your seat. Luckily Sophia didn't notice, still looking away from you.
>"You don't think I'll be a burden?"
>"Not at all," the quickness and confidence of your reply surprises you.
>But maybe that assurance was just what she needed.
>"...Okay," while still meek, her voice sounds a bit less fearful.
>"You'll go with me?"
>"If it's alright...."
>Well, there's your answer.
>Illegal babysitting, here you come.
>"Okay then, I'll take you to my place. Remember, you can change your mind at anytime."
>She gives a gentle nod of acknowledgment.
>"Go ahead and put in your seatbelt and we'll get going."
>Lifting the parking break, you notice Sophia struggling to locate the belt in the corner of your eye.
>"Here, I got it," you say as you reach over the wolf and, as delicately as you can, buckle her into the seat.
>Her ears flatten to her head again.
>"I-I'm sorry," the shame of her voice has returned, "I didn't know what you meant, I've never ridden in a car before... I'm sorry...."
>Her expression falls even more so to embarrassment and fear, although it's a little hard to see when she ducks her head down like that.
>"I'm sorry for being annoying...."
>Annoying? Because she didn't know what a seatbelt was?
>She's actually trembling in her seat. The sight it gives you the impulse to remedy it.
>So... How do you go about it?
>You get an idea, although you're worried how she might react to it.
>After awkwardly hovering your hand over her shoulder for a second, you gently lay it down.
>She flinches at the touch, immediately turning to you.
>It's unnerving how tiny her pupils shrank.
>Your words are spoken wholeheartedly.
>"You're not annoying. It's not your fault this is new to you," you try your damnedest to look reassuring. The terror in her eyes scares you as well.
>Luckily though, you seem to have had an effect.
>Sophia's trembling wavers and her pupils begin to dilate back to their normal size.
>You lift your hand and put it back on the wheel.
>She's calming down.
>Giving you a weak nod, she adjusts herself to sit up straight in her seat.
>That... Actually kinda worked.
>You actually feel really good about that. You haven't felt pride like this in a long time.
>Okay, calm down now. You didn't cure cancer.
>Right now you need to get out of here before anyone shows up.
>You realize that driving back, having Sophia next to you would look conspicuous.
>The blanket she brought in with her rests at her feet. Maybe you could cover her up with it?
>No. You want to look like you're smuggling a corpse? Plus you don't think Sophia would appreciate it very much.
>Instead, you drape it over her lap. She doesn't say anything as you do.
>"Hey... Sophia? Could you do me a favor and put your hood up?"
>She complies almost immediately. Wordless, but with another nod.
>Perfect. As long as she sat like that, blankly staring at the glove compartment, just about no one would be able to tell that she was an anthro.
>At last, you turn your on lights and step off the brake.
>You've succeeded in finding Sophia and can now bring her home to safety.
>Only now you're terrified about what could happen to you.

***

>At last, you make it to your driveway.
>Your chest feels ready to burst. Simply seeing Sophia looking out the window in the corner of your eye was enough to mortify you.
>What an idiot you are for doing this.
>Luckily, nobody seemed to notice the difference in species.
>Doesn't stop you form being on edge. For Sophia's sake, you keep your fear internal.
>You ask if she could stay in the car once you realized the only way to open the garage was from the inside.
>Again, she only gives a small nod in response.
>As quick as you can, you unlock the front door and hurry to open the garage.
>You swiftly pull in, shutting off the car and closing the garage door.
>Once it's shut, you breathe a sigh of relief.
>Again, why the hell have you come this far? Or considered it in the first place?
>Even if you manage never to get caught, you don't think your heart can take much more of this.
>You know you shouldn't be doing this, no matter how moral it sounded on paper.
>But mentally you know you'd blame yourself for whatever happened if you didn't go looking for her.
>There really was no winning choice, was there? You're fucked either way.
>You take a deep breath.
>Any sort of relaxation is welcome. Hopefully clear your head a bit.
>...
>Wait.
>Sophia's still in the car.
>She hasn't moved from her seat, just sitting patiently.
>Watching you.
>You gesture for her to get out.
>She notices, and begins tugging on her seatbelt, apparently not realizing she needs to press the button to click it off.
>Oh boy.
>Well, you can't really blame her. She's never been in a car before.
>Honestly it's a little cute.
>You walk around the car to the passenger side seat to help.
>It surprises you when the door suddenly bursts open just before you get there, and Sophia tumbles out. The blanket spills onto the floor.
>"Woah-! You okay?" You ask as you run over and help her regain her balance.
>She nearly fell onto her back before you helped reorient her. Despite this, she nods profusely, albeit avoiding your gaze.
>The fur on her face seems to have shifted a shade pinker.
>You peer into the car.
>The seatbelt is still buckled in. She must've weaseled her way through the straps.
>You turn back to her, and kneel to get eye level with her... Even though she's avoiding eye contact.
>You barely notice her slight tremoring through her puffy jacket.
>"Are you alright? Did you hurt yourself?" You try, calm yet concerned.
>Her eyes dart to you, but only for a second before they retreat. Her trembling appears to fade away.
>A quick head shake tells you "no".
>"...Are you sure?"
>A quick nod.
>Neither of you say anything for a while. You aren't sure whether you should press it or not. It looks like a small amount of her fur snagged on the belt and was pulled off.
>Or is it just shedding? Something similar?
>You really need to learn more about anthros if you're to continue this plan.
>Standing up, you simply press on the seat belt's release and shut the door.
>When you look back at her, you notice she looks even more flustered than before. Probably embarrassed.
>You try giving her a gentle smile.
>"Come on. Let's go inside."
>"...Okay."
>You pick up the blanket before you start heading inside.
>As you lead her around the car, you notice that she's both trying to keep pace with you and stay at a distance.
>She can't decide how close she wants to get to you.
>You keep your friendly demeanor in hopes to make her more comfortable.
>It feels strangely forced and genuine at the same time.
>What is wrong with you and these indescribable feelings? Some sort of side effect of the anxiety?
>All in all, this just feels so...weird. You can be certain about that at least.
>You hold open the door for Sophia, who eyes you cautiously.
>In soft trudges, she moves past you and into the laundry room. You step in after her and set the blanket on top of the washing machine.
>You notice one again just how unkempt her gray fur is.
>She makes it about three feet before stopping and looking back at you.
>You close the door and unzip your jacket, hanging it on a mounted hook on the wall.
>"You wanna take your jacket off?"
>She looks down at her coat. While you get no verbal response, she unzips it and shakes it off into her arms.
>You see she was wearing your old jacket underneath.
>She's much hastier to get that one off, only this time she walks over to hand you it.
>She's still wearing her long and raggedy purple dress.
>"Thank you...for the jacket. I tried not to get it dirty."
>From what you can tell, it looks exactly like it did when you gave it to her. Well, minus the fur.
>"It looks just fine. Here, I'll hang up your coat too," you extend a hand to her.
>With a slight hesitation, she drapes her puffy coat on your arm.
>You can't help but smirk a little at how carefully she did so.
>"You can kick off your shoes and leave them right there," you point to two pairs of shoes tucked in the corner of the room.
>Taking off your current pair and hanging up the jackets, you notice Sophia isn't moving.
>She looks a bit befuddled.
>Any remanence of your smirk fades as you piece together what this means.
>"Do you...not have any?"
>"...No."
>"..."
>You really can't find it in you to respond to that.
>This child has been roaming the streets for days without a pair of shoes.
>Rough concrete, trash, pebbles, shards of glass...
>"You... Have you gotten cut because of that?"
>She shakes her head.
>You're slightly relieved at this. Hopefully, this means you won't have to deal with any sort of possible infections.
>But still, just because she got lucky like that doesn't mean it was a pleasant aspect of her life on the streets.
>You take a good look at her.
>Ruffled hair, ragged dress, tired eyes...
>Her presence greatly contrasted with the tidiness of your new house. Hell, it wasn't even very organized at that.
>She's just a kid. She didn't deserve the whatever circumstances happened to make you feel it was necessary to intervene.
>Regardless, she's here and is your responsibility. Hopefully you can make her life a little less shit.
>Lets start with the obvious.
>"Are you hungry?"
>Sophia ponders your question for longer than you'd expect, apparently having some sort of mental debate to what should be a simple answer.
>"Mm-hm," you almost couldn't hear her response.
>"Have anything in mind? Do you like soup?"
>"Anything is fine," you could've swore you heard traces of guilt from that.
>Either way, you make your way to the pantry and look for some more soup.
>You find another can of tomato. That'll be okay for a wolf, right?
>As you bring out the can, you notice Sophia isn't in the kitchen.
>After a brief search, you find her still standing in the laundry room, watching you.
>You motion for her to come into the kitchen.
>She does so immediately, only to plant herself just past the threshold of the kitchen.
>You keep her in the corner of your eye as you heat up the burner.
>She doesn't move an inch, attentively watching as you dump the soup in a pot and place it onto the burner.
>More awkward silence ensues as you wait for the soup to heat up.
>You clear your throat.
>"So, uh, do you wanna take a seat?" You ask.
>"...Do you want me to?"
>"Do you want to?"
>The two of you share a tone of uneasy uncertainty. Apparently, neither of you completely grasped the other's respective question.
>Bubbling soup fills in the silence.
>"...There's a few chairs at the table. Go ahead and sit down," you say after a few seconds of mindlessly staring at each other.
>"Okay," her response is more concrete this time, and she doesn't hesitate to sit at the table.
>Sophia doesn't say anything as you stir the soup.
>You want to break the silence, but for whatever reason can't muster up something to say.
>So you stay quiet as well.
>...
>Once you feel that the soup is ready, your pour it into a bowl and grab a spoon.
>You notice that Sophia's focus has shifted from you to the bowl.
>Actually, she seems to switch between the two.
>You place the bowl in front of her, and the spoon next to the bowl.
>Her hand immediately reaches for the spoon, but she stops herself.
>She looks you right in the eyes.
>"Thank you...."
>And, with more finesse this time, takes the spoon.
>You walk over and have a seat directly across from her while she attacks her meal.
>She recoils a bit from the heat from the first sip, but it doesn't slow her down.
>You're about to suggest waiting until it cools, but something about her stops you.
>It's so desperate...
>You wait until she's finished, which doesn't take very long.
>After she finishes the last of it, her attention reverts immediately back to you.
>"Thank you...." she mumbles once again.
>"You're very welcome."
>You smile at her, getting up and taking the bowl and spoon from her.
>You rinse them in the sink and leave them there.
>Sophia sits in the chair, silent and seeming expectant of you to do or say something.
>You look at her for a bit.
>She undeniably appears tired. You suppose you did just find her late at night.
>You don't have a guest bed, but there is the couch in the living room.
>There's some spare blankets somewhere in your room, you're pretty sure.
>Standing up, you head to the living room.
>Closing the blinds is probably a good idea. The sun won't shine on her face in the morning, and more importantly, it'll decrease the chance someone sees an anthro in a human neighborhood.
>Again, you get a slight feeling of nausea as you imagine what could happen if someone finds out...
>You take a deep breath in before heading back to the kitchen.
>Sophia hasn't moved, eyes on you just as always.
>"Are you tired?" You ask.
>As expected, she affirms with a weak nod.
>"Come over here."
>You turn back, and she follows you to the couch. You rest your hand on it.
>"You can sleep on this for the night," you state simply. Tiredness is beginning to override your anxiety.
>"I-I can?"
>"Yeah... You can."
>Her eyes, usually droopy, stare widely at the couch.
>"Are you sure?"
>"...Yeah."
>Sophia takes a step closer, only to step back again.
>"M-My fur could make a mess."
>"It won't. It'll be fine."
>"...Okay."
>At last, she moves in front of the couch. Very delicately, she sits in the center, and slowly leans onto her side so that her head lies on the armrest.
>You realize she still doesn't have any blankets or pillows.
>"I'll be right back," you tell her.
>"Okay."
>You leave her for a moment to head to your room, grabbing two spare blankets and a pillow and bringing them back to the living room.
>Sophia watches as you place them on the floor by the couch.
>"You can use these for now. At least until I can, er, work out something better," you say.
>She doesn't respond, at least not verbally. Subtle nods indicate she's listening.
>She hasn't reached for the pillow or blankets yet. Should you...tuck her in?
>...
>"Ahem," you clear your throat. "If you need me, I'll be in my room upstairs. I'll keep the door open... And don't be afraid to wake me up."
>You step away from her and to the light switch.
>"Uh, goodnight."
>You flick off the lights and begin to make your way upstairs.
>Before she's out of earshot, you hear her say something.
>"...Goodnight."
>Once you've navigated through the darkness and into your room, you collapse onto your bed.
>All your energy had seemed to just drain away within those past few minutes.
>Once again, your conscious reminds you that you are actually going through with this.
>And that you're probably going to pay for it.
>Really going to pay for it...

***

>Last night wasn't too great.
>You were up so late looking for Sophia, yet no matter how heavy your eyelids felt, you couldn't for the life of you drift to sleep.
>You've really grown to hate your alarm.
>At least it wasn't as loud this time. Don't want to startle Sophia.
>Getting up, you start your morning routine, same as usual.
>Showering, putting on work clothes, all that.
>Once you've gotten downstairs, you take a peek into the dark living room.
>Looks like she put on the blankets. You can just barely see her head and ears poke out.
>Asleep probably. It's still very early in the morning.
>You leave her be for now. Instead you make your way to the kitchen for breakfast.
>You find some really bland cereal you didn't know you had. That'll be something new.
>Grabbing a bowl and some milk, breakfast is prepared within seconds.
>It doesn't take much longer to eat.
>Instead of putting the cereal box away, you leave it and a new bowl on the counter for Sophia later.
>Speaking of which, checking on her would be a good idea.
>Back at the living room, you find her still asleep.
>You think about waking her up so you can tell her you'll be gone at work for a while, but then realize you could leave a note instead.
>Now you don't have to disturb her slumber. You're a genius.
>It doesn't take long to find a pen and a sheet of paper.
>"Sophia, I'll be at work for a few hours, but I'll be back during my lunch break. There's some cereal you can have in the kitchen and some milk in the fridge. Don't go outside, and stay away from the windows."
>After some thought, you add...
>"Please."
>You leave the note on the table next to the couch.
>It makes you a little--no, very nervous leaving her in your house without your supervision, but you were the one who decided to do this.
>You hope that somehow, in the end, everything will turn out alright.
>Maybe you could find her a good family?
>Maybe her real family is still out there somewhere.
>You'll have to think about this later. For now, you quietly make your way to the garage.
>Maybe work can distract you from this.
>
>"Hey... Hey Anon. You seem a little distracted," Jane says from across the table.
>You blink.
>"I'm fine."
>She gives a weak shrug.
>"Well, if you say so," Jane puts her attention back to her monitor.
>Just like yesterday, you're finding it hard to focus on your work.
>Except instead of worrying about what kind of trouble Sophia could get into alone in the city, you're worried about the trouble that both of you could get into if she's found in your house.
>You told her she could leave anytime, so should you have specified that you needed to be there to escort her? Someone could see her step right outside your front door.
>It doesn't help you live in an entirely human populated neighborhood.
>You did tell her not to go outside on the note.
>...Did you?
>Why do you need to be second guessing yourself?
>There's no way you didn't write that on the note.
>Most likely.
>Will she even see the note? Did you put in a good spot?
>What if she-
>"Anon?"
>"Y-Yeah?" You look up.
>Jane, Greg and Reita all stare at you.
>"Planning on working at all today?" Greg asks.
>You're too unfocused and tired to tell if that was asked jokingly or sarcastically.
>"Sorry guys, just thinking of some problems back at home."
>"Problems?"
>"Yeah, uh... Family problems..."
>Sure, let's go with that.
>"Oh, sorry. I hope you get that figured out then," Greg turns his head away from you.
>You try to be more cooperative from then on.
>
>You hurry out for your lunch break, wanting time to buy a few necessities for Sophia.
>After some driving, you eye a general store that heavily advertises "Quality Items for Both Humans AND Anthros!"
>You step inside to find it completely empty, bar one apathetic-looking lizard anthro reading a newspaper behind a counter.
>Iguana? Newt? You honestly have no idea.
>Whatever he is, he doesn't pay you much attention.
>You try to do the same as you pass through what's essentially one large room crammed with shelves of miscellaneous items.
>Though, it is at least organized.
>You stumble into a section full of hair products.
>You're surprised to find many different types of shampoo and conditioner specifically for anthros. They come in bigger bottles than the ones for humans too.
>You grab some bottles conveniently labeled "Canine".
>Next, clothes that aren't stained and torn up should be a good idea.
>As you approach a clothing rack, you realize that you're very uncertain about the size you should be getting.
>Does the fact she's an anthro factor into what dimensions she needs? Does she need more room for her fur to breath?
>To be safe, you'll get her another dress, and one size bigger than your current estimate.
>Hopefully she won't be tripping over it.
>Almost every single article of clothing has a unique color or design, not dissimilar to a bargain bin.
>You find only one of the size you're looking for.
>Its white on the top, and orange with white polka dots on the actual dress.
>She's going to look like a carton of orange juice, but you don't think she'll mind too much. It's not in horrible condition.
>This'll be good for now. Might as well save some time to talk with her and not need to rush back to work.
>As you approach the lizard, you notice a mini freezer with pints of ice cream on the counter.
>It's very limited in its the amount of flavors. You grab a vanilla flavored one.
>Hopefully Sophia will like it.
>You bring everything up to the lizard man.
>He inspects the price tag on the dress first.
>"You got a daughter?"
>You're heart skips a beat at the realization that you'll need to lie about why you're getting it. But the panic is short lived, since you also realize he gave you the perfect excuse.
>"Yeah... She likes orange."
>"Hm."
>He brings the label of the shampoo to his vision. He squints at it, and then at you.
>"Canine hair products?"
>Shit.
>"Hey... Don't judge. That's the only brand that works for me. You're getting money for it either way."
>"...Yeah, okay pal."
>He doesn't inquire about your purchases after that.
>
>"Sophia? I'm home!"
>You place everything you bought on the kitchen counter.
>In doing so, you notice the cereal box and bowl exactly where you left them.
>Is...she really still asleep?
>Quietly, you make your way over to the couch.
>Sophia's still there, but she's not asleep. She's staring right at you.
>In fact, she looks the complete opposite of tired.
>Lucid and alert.
>It makes you a little uneasy honestly.
>"Uh, Sophia? Have you been there all day?"
>"Mm-hm."
>"Did you see the note?"
>She looks down, quick to break eye contact.
>Her ears and tail droop down.
>"I-I'm sorry. I can't read..."
>Oh. You hadn't thought about that.
>She's shivering again.
>"I'm sorry..." She repeats.
>"No, it's my fault."
>She looks back up at you, expression shifting slightly towards confusion.
>"I guess I hadn't considered that. You must be really hungry right now."
>"Y-You're not...?" She trails off.
>"Not what?"
>She opens her mouth, but stops herself, and resigns to weakly shaking her head.
>You decide it's better to not try and force anything from her. Instead you change the subject.
>"I got some stuff for you. Follow me to the kitchen."
>"She gets off the couch quicker than you'd expect.
>"Yes sir."
>"Sir?"
>You look back at her just in time to see her eyes widen.
>"D-do you not want me to call you that? I'm sorry, I th-thought you expected it and it was respectful and-and--"
>"Woah, calm down," you cut her off from the verge of panic. "You're fine. You've done nothing wrong. Just caught me off guard a little."
>"I'm sorry..."
>"You apologize too much."
>"I'm... Oh."
>You watch her shift around nervously, and hatch a thought that makes you sadder than you thought it would.
>"Are you afraid of me, Sophia?" you ask.
>"What?" she freezes.
>"Do you want to leave?"
>"I..." She stands there, completely flustered.
>Maybe you shouldn't have asked that.
>Just before you can fill the silence, you hear her meek voice.
>"I don't know."
>It could have easily been a throwaway answer, but she sounded so genuine. Confused and genuine.
>She stares at her feet.
>You don't like seeing her like this.
>"I, uh..." You clear your throat. "I want to find a good family for you. People that'll take good care of you. Would you like that?"
>Sophia looks back up at you, and affirms with a subtle nod.
>Seems like you said the right thing. Sophia looks slightly less dejected now.
>Still, something about that exchange didn't sit right with you.
>
>"I hope it isn't too big for you. Didn't quite know what size to get," you hold up the new dress so Sophia can see it.
>She stares without speaking, and for a moment you're concerned.
>"Do you not like it? I'm sorry about the color, I can get another one sometime soon."
>"...It's new?" She asks.
>"Yeah. I bought it on the way here."
>"And it's for me?"
>"Are you surprised?"
>She looks down at her own, raggedy dress, and fidgits with the cloth.
>"A little...."
>You realize the dress she's wearing must be a hand-me-down. Probably an attempt by her foster center to save money.
>It makes you wonder if there are any other cut corners that Sophia has grown to be used to...
>You lay the dress onto a counter.
>"I also got you some of these...."
>From a plastic bag, you pull out the canine hair products.
>"You know what they're for, right?"
>She nods.
>"And how to use them?"
>She nods again. Good.
>"And one more thing... Are you still hungry?"
>Obviously you know she is. She hasn't eaten anything today yet.
>Instead of waiting for her to reluctantly confirm it, you pull out the final item of the bag.
>As you do, you notice her attention shift right towards it. Her ears droop.
>"Do you like ice cream?"
>"I don't know..."
>You're sensing a pattern here involving anything that isn't a necessity.
>"You've never had ice cream before?"
>Sophia stares down at her feet.
>"No...." She sounds very...defeated? That's the best way you can describe it.
>Is she lactose intolerant or something? Is that possible for wolves? The norm even?
>"...Would you like some?"
>All the sudden, she looks back up at you, seemingly taken aback by your offer.
>"W-What? I... What did I do?"
>Oh no, did you say the wrong thing? You don't want her to start panicking again.
>"Hey hey hey! You aren't in trouble! I'm not trying to punish you!" you try reassuringly.
>Your words seem to be working; her perked ears and tail begin to relax... But now she's looking at you weirdly?
>"Ice cream is not for punishment..." she says softly, almost as if she's trying to be reassuring to you instead.
>"Ah... Yes," you really have no idea what to say. This whole interaction about ice cream has just been confusing to you.
>Her pupils drift downward; and her ears and tail appear to completely succumb to gravity.
>"...Ice cream is for good kids."
>She's almost completely motionless.
>You're getting that feeling again. The one you felt seeing her scrape her knees in the alleyway.
>It feels like pity, but with a strong sense of duty attached.
>It makes you nervous for some reason.
>...
>But...
>You need to be doing better.
>"Ah, hey, you've been good..." you try, "Go ahead and take it."
>For some reason, that jerked a quick response, and she wordlessly takes the pint from your outstretched arm, surprising you.
>She doesn't try opening it though, she just...holds it.
>"What did I do?" her eyes stare past the pint and settle cautiously on you.
>"I... Sophia...."
>Taking a short pause, you clear your throat.
>A tone of confidence is something you'll likely need to get your point across to her.
>"You don't need to feel obligated to earn it. I'm giving it to you because I want you to feel better here. You don't need to do anything for it. You're not a bad kid."
>She remains unmoving, unblinking, and unresponsive.
>Did it not work?
>"..."
>"..."
>"...Are you sure?"
>At last, she blinks, briefly turning her attention to the cold pint in her hands, before staring back at you.
>Without much hesitation, you try to regain your confidence that had fleeted during the silence.
>"Of course," and then, a little less stalwart, "Eh, aren't your hands getting cold?"
>She peeks down at the container.
>"Mm-hm."
>It's been in her grip for a while, and her palms are wet from thawing the frost.
>"Aren't they getting numb?"
>"Mm-hm."
>Still, Sophia doesn't move.
>"...Here, I'll put this on the table."
>With one hand, you gently grasp the top of the pint.
>The little wolf offers no resistance whatsoever as you slide it out of her grip.
>Cracking the lid open and grabbing a spoon, you place the ice cream at the table for her. She lingers behind you.
>Once that's done, you motion for her to take a seat, and she promptly does so.
>She appears to contemplate the treat, as if it were forbidden from being eaten.
>After some intense inaction, she grips the spoon.
>She turns her head to face you, wordlessly seeking confirmation.
>You simply respond with an approving nod.
>Its enough for her to scoop a small sample of ice cream, contemplate it some more, and finally eat it.
>And for a very brief moment, you witness something that catches you off guard.
>Her eyelids droop, and the edges of her mouth shift upward into a smile.
>She looks happy.
>Experiencing something she's never had the chance to take for granted...
>Unfortunately somethings seems to click within her, and instead of scooping some more, she turns to you once more.
>She appears nervous and regretful...
>But before you can do anything, her somber expression quickly melts away.
>You have no idea why, but you aren't complaining.
>"Thank you Anon," she speaks the most confident you've ever heard her.
>Her next spoonful is a much bigger one.
>It takes a little while for you to realize that you had been smiling.
>
>During the remainder of work, and the drive home, your thoughts are once again fixated on Sophia. However, they're much less paranoid this time.
>Like usual, you don't want to think about the authorities finding out you're taking care of an anthro without any sort of paperwork done.
>But this time it's not because you're scared of the consequences. It's because such thoughts just feel like a nuisance at the moment.
>You've been feeling...optimistic lately. Almost, you shamefully admit to yourself, giddy.
>This good mood has been lasting much longer than you thought it would.
>It makes you think about why you're feeling the way you are.
>Because you made her happy, that part is obvious.
>But why does that make YOU so happy?
>It's not that you're an edgy, cold-hearted bastard. But you're also not a super sunshine-y fellow that feeds off of the positive vibes of others.
>It just made you feel...
>...
>There it is again. That alien impulse you're starting to become so familiar with.
>No time to decipher it now. You're home.
>"I'm back, Sophia! Could you come here for a sec?" you announce once inside the house, holding a freshly bought purchased pajama set among other things.
>You had quickly gone to get a few more articles of clothing for her, though you realized you still hadn't figured out her size. Estimations were made.
>The pajamas are a dark blue with a pattern of yellow moons, both full and crescent variants.
>Is that insensitive for a wolf?
>Pit pat! Pit pat! Pit pat!
>Rushed footsteps, starting from the living room, find themselves stopping two feet from you.
>"Yes s... Yes Anon," the young wolf speaks, posture as if she were about to salute a military superior.
>It'd be cute if she was jokingly acting so stoic, but she doesn't loosen up.
>You take a moment to recollect your thoughts.
>"Were you okay while I was gone?"
>"Mm-hm," she nods her head.
>"Good. Did you have anything for dinner?"
>Another nod, "You told me to have the cereal," she says less matter-of-factly and more as a confirmation that she had understood your recommendation.
>Anyway, cereal was more like a quick suggestion before you had to leave for work.
>Though thinking back, you didn't have too much stuff she could prepare on her own.
>Nothing for breakfast, ice cream for lunch, and cereal for dinner...
>You really need to get your game together.
>"Anyway," you change the subject, "I got you these."
>You present the pajama set to her, which she studies intently.
>"For...?" she stops herself from finishing her question, as if some new thought had invalidated it. Instead, she looks back at you. "Thank you, Anon."
>"You're welcome," you smile. You want to make sure you smile a lot.
>You don't want her to be afraid of you.
>Hopefully it doesn't seem creepy.
>Sophia herself isn't smiling, but she doesn't look tense either.
>Her eyes scan the pajamas, and her mouth is ever so slightly open. Tail perked up, but still.
>You suppose that she looks curious, or inquisitive.
>"But first, you need to get cleaned up. Could you follow me upstairs?"
>Whatever kind of trance she was in looking at the pajamas is broken. "Okay," is all she says as she waits for you to lead the way.
>You grab the canine shampoo and conditioner before making your way up to the second floor, Sophia trailing behind you.
>Before long you've made it to the bathroom.
>"I'll run a bath for you," you say, placing her new clothes on the counter and the hair products on the rim of the tub, "You, uh, you'll know what to do if I leave you to it?"
>She nods her head without hesitation.
>"Good."
>Turning the lever, you get some hot water flowing. Once the tub is about three quarters full, you stop it.
>"When you're finished, just flick this thing down; it'll drain the water," you inform, drawing her attention to the drain trigger.
>"Okay."
>"Alright... I'll give you some privacy."
>"Okay."
>You close the door behind you as you leave.
>It can't be overstated how glad you are that she doesn't need help bathing.
>As you wait for her to finish her bath, you grab your laptop and head to your bed to pass the time.
>Instinctually you begin typing...
>"teaching someone how to read"
>You blink.
>Were you even consciously thinking when you typed that?
>Why do you need to know how...
>Oh yeah...
>You had forgotten Sophia couldn't read, even though she had been notably scared to admit that to you.
>Doesn't really matter, you aren't a teacher.
>You highlight your question, ready to press delete.
>...Though, it couldn't be that hard, could it?
>Maybe you'll just look at the first few tips that pop up, for curiosity's sake.
>You press enter.
>The results are semi-predictable: go through the alphabet in its entirety, apply sounds to recognizable things, start with single syllable words...
>Again, you ask yourself why you're looking into this.
>You're not obligated, much less qualified, to teach a child how to read.
>You'll find her a nice family that will get her enrolled in school.
>...Though, her getting a head start on it would undeniably be a big help.
>But what if she doesn't even want to be taught by you? How many conversations have the two of you shared that weren't awkward during any point?
>...Though, you could just ASK if she'd be okay with it.
>But her willingness wouldn't make you any better a teacher...
>Your thoughts on the matter continue to go back and forth as you sit there.
>However, they're interrupted at the sound of a door opening.
>She's done already?
>You close your laptop and head to the bathroom door.
>She stands at the threshold, wearing her new pajamas, and holding her dirty purple dress.
>The bath really went a long way for her fur.
>The inconsistent coloring caused by its dirtiness is gone, replaced with a clean, solid gray.
>The raggedness is absent as well. Each strand of hair appears uniformly down, shining like silk all together.
>You also notice just how skinny she is.
>It was hard to tell before with her dress, but now it really shows just how few full meals she's gotten to experience...
>So frail... But at least clean now.
>"Did everything go well?" you ask.
>She nods.
>"That's good. How do the pajamas feel?"
>"Warm."
>"So... You like them?"
>She gives a more vigorous nodding for that question.
>"I'm glad," you smile at her again.
>Sophia stares at you, as if she needs to say something.
>"I-I... Um. You..." she mumbles, pauses, and then with more finality, "Th-thank you," her voice sounds genuine, but still uneasy.
>In fact, you notice her tense up a little bit.
>"You're welcome."
>But just like that, and to your relief, she loosens up again.
>Turning slightly away from you, Sophia tries to hide a yawn with the back of her hand.
>This doesn't slip past you of course, she's mere feet away from you.
>"Are you tired?" you ask.
>"...A little."
>"Do you want to go to bed?" couch technically. You find that you really wish you had a guest bed or something.
>She ponders your question for a little while.
>"...Okay."
>"Here, I'll take that to get washed," you extend a hand towards the dress she's holding.
>Without missing a beat, but still cautiously, she drapes it over your arm.
>With the dress in hand, the two of you make your way downstairs.
>Your paths split at the bottom. You to the laundry room, and her to the living room.
>You place her clothes into the washing machine and start a cycle.
>Such mundane things feel as if they have more weight now. More purpose. The reason is obvious, but it still surprises you how different it all feels.
>Walking back toward the living room, you find Sophia as you saw her this morning: lying on the couch with blankets and pillows.
>"Are you comfortable?"
"Mm-hm."
>"Good," that could have easily been the end of such an engaging conversation, but then you remembered, "Sophia? Do you...wish you could read?"
>She gives it a moment. A familiar silence builds its way between the two of you.
>"...Yes."
>Now for the tougher question, "Would you like it if I tried to teach you?"
>Another period of silence, this one longer than the last.
>"...If you're okay with it...."
>"I'm okay with it as long as you are."
>"..."
>"Alright then... I'll, uh, let you get some shuteye. I'll be in my room."
>"Okay."
>"Goodnight."
>"...Goodnight."
>You flick the light switch off and leave her be.
>Once you've turned all the lights off downstairs, you retire to your room.
>You let out a sigh.
>Part of you is glad that your conversations with her have only been in short bursts.
>For whatever reason, speaking with her drains your energy.
>It's not that you dislike her or anything, just that all your conversations feel a little one-sided.
>Though you can't...aren't...going to blame her for that. You understand she's probably unused to this situation.
>Hopefully things will get better as you attempt to tutor her.
>...
>You really are going to try and teach her, huh?
>You're realizing just now how much of a whim that idea was.
>But you can't take it back now.
>No matter how bad of an instructor you'll be, you at least promised her you'd give it a shot.

***

>Sophia's orange dress was, in fact, a little too long for her.
>But as far as you can tell, she doesn't care at all.
>Instead of complaining, she opts to pinch the fabric and feel it between her fingers.
>You watch as she trots around the living room, feeling out the new outfit.
>It makes you glad that she's enjoying it so much, though slightly concerned that she may trip on it.
>Luckily that never happens.
>Sophia stops to look expectantly at you every now and again.
>You smile each time, and she goes back on her way.
>There's a strange sense of...rhythm? Familiarity? You can't quite place it.
>Meanwhile, you shuffle through some papers that you had printed out.
>You find one that has every letter of the alphabet, capital and lowercase versions adjacent to each other.
>Each pair of letters has a design representing something that starts with that letter.
>The "Tt"s are trees,
>The "Ss"s are snakes,
>The "Oo"s are oranges, and so forth.
>Overall, a very colorful and happy looking sheet of paper.
>Taking a deep breath, you set aside the other sheets for now.
>"Sophia, could you come over here?" you gently call.
>She freezes for half a second at the mention of her name, but other than that, you quickly find her in front of you.
>She stands up straight and eyes you attentively.
>"Careful running in that dress," you say, "You could easily trip."
>She breaks eye contact.
>"Oh... I'm sorry."
>"It's okay. I just don't want you getting hurt. Remember when you scraped your knee?"
>Instinctively, Sophia placed her hand on where the mentioned injury occurred. You realize there's probably still a scab.
>"It hurt...." she recalls.
>"Has it been hurting recently?"
>She shakes her head.
>"That's good," you say.
>Should you...check the injury?
>"Well, uh, how about we let you get your mind off of that..."
>You hold out the alphabet sheet to her.
>Sophia stares curiously at your offering before slowly taking it from your grasp.
>"...Is this the alphabet?"
>"Yeah," you try to add a slight amount of enthusiasm to your voice, "do you recognize any of the letters?"
>"Um..." you noticed a slight droop of her ears at the question.
>"That one..." she points at the "A".
>"That one..." the "B".
>"That one..." the "C".
>"And...um..." she scans the page, and it takes her a moment before she can point at another.
>"Oh, that one!"
>She points at the "S".
>"My name starts with that one."
>Sophia herself had also expressed a little bit of enthusiasm with her remark. It makes you smile a bit.
>"Hm... That one too," she says, pointing to crossbones "X", displayed through an x-ray.
>"X?" you question.
>"Mm-hm. It means 'No' or 'Gone'," Sophia states matter-of-factly.
>"Well, I suppose it could, but uh, do you know what sounds it makes?"
>She doesn't have an answer for that, head lowering a bit in shame.
>"...Never mind. Sorry...."
>"Hey, don't be sorry. This is why we're doing this."
>"..."
>She doesn't respond.
>"So," you break the silence. "Do you know the song Twinkle Twinkle Little Star?"
>"I think..."
>"Well, kids use the beat of that song to help memorize the alphabet. Why don't we give it a try? Repeat after me..."
>Oh God, are you really doing this?
>You clear your throat and hope this won't sound too bad.
>"A B C D E F G..." you don't attempt to stretch your voice very far in either direction. You're no singer. With every letter, you point at the sheet where said letter is located.
>"...A B C D E F G..." Sophia repeats quietly, matching your own vocal range. You aren't setting too good an example it seems.
>The two of you make your way through the alphabet. Despite what your semi-monotone singing voice would imply, you really are trying to get her into it.
>"Y and Z."
>"...Y and Z."
>"Good!" you praise, "Just like that."
>"O-Oh... Okay," she mutters, "But I don't know if I can remember all of them."
>"That's okay, I just wanted to introduce you into it. We'll practice it some more later," you point at the sheet, "Let's look at this for now. What is this?"
>Sophia focuses where you're pointing.
>"A?"
>"Yes, but what's crawling over it?"
>"...An ant."
>"Yep. Since the ant is on the 'A', can you guess what 'ant' starts with?"
>She gives it a little bit of thought.
>"A?"
>"Good! Do you see where I'm going with this?"
>"I think so."
>You point at the "N", which is encased within a transparent butterfly net.
>"This is an 'N'. Do you see what the 'N' is inside of?"
>"A...net?"
>"Yes, good! So the sound it makes is...?"
>"Neh?"
>"Er, yeah. Nnh. How about the 'T' over here?" You point at the tree-formed letter, "What sounds to you think it makes?"
>"Um," the wolf stares for a moment, "Tch?"
>You realize the flaw of your method too late.
>"Ah, no. That's not quite it," you say, partly to yourself.
>"Oh...." Sophia ducks her head in a dejected manner once again.
>You realize the other mistake you just made.
>"Ah, hey! That wasn't your fault!" She looks back up at you. "It was my bad. That letter, 'T', makes a 'tuh' sound. The word 'Tree' starts with 'T', but doesn't quite follow the rules."
>The wolf's eyes scan you, as if she's trying to decipher a clue from whatever you just said.
>Explaining the phonetic inconsistencies of the English language is going to be fun time...
>"So anyway, let's try putting that all together."
>You take out a pencil and write "A N T" in the free space at the bottom of the page. You set your pointer finger on "A".
>Sophia watches intently, ready to absorb the secret skill of literacy.
>"What sound does this letter make?"
>"Ah."
>You slide your finger to the "N".
>You manage to spot her taking a glance at the net.
>"Nnn."
>You nod and smile. Now for the "T".
>"...Tuh?"
>"You've got it! Now, can you say every sound together?"
>"...Antuh?" Upon hearing her voice, Sophia's wrinkled confusion suddenly transforms to wide-eyed awe, "Ant! Like right there!"
>A small tingle of accomplishment wavers in your chest as Sophia points to the ants around the "A".
>Your lesson was godawful, obviously, but the end result was fulfilling nonetheless.
>"Great job Sophia!"
>The sound of her name triggered some kind of realization for Sophia.
>She tries to turn her head at an angle as to obscure her grin from you, but you can still make it out.
>"T-Thank you," she bashfully makes out.
>"Of course," you smile. "Let's try another. How about this?"
>You write "C A T" on the paper.
>"Do you remember what sound 'C' makes?"
>In a moment, Sophia's pride was exchanged for intense concentration.
>"Cuh...Cuh-at? Cat!" she beams.
>"Aren't you a fast learner?" with your pencil, you write down a few more words to form a sentence.
>"A   C A T   S A T   A T   A   M A T"
>The change of your pupil's expression would have implied that you just wrote something obscene.
>"U-Um...." she stutters.
>"I know this looks difficult at a glance, but you've already have most of it down," you tell her.
>"I do?" she sounds unconvinced.
>"Of course. Just look at each word by itself, and ignore the others. Start here," you cover the entire sentence, minus the beginning "A", with your palm.
>"Ah...." she utters, and you slide your palm to unveil the next word as she goes along.
>"Ah...cat...s-at...at...ah...."
>Sophia appears to be stumped on the last word, so you decide to drop a hint.
>"Mmm."
>"...Mmm-at," she finishes. "A cat...sat at a...mat?"
>"Perfect!"
>"I got it?" she turns wide-eyed to you.
>"You've just read your first sentence," you confirm her achievements, with another warm smile of course.
>Sophia's eyes glisten, appearing utterly awestruck.
>Speechless, she can't take her eyes off of the sentence she read.
>Something about her glee must be rubbing off on you, as you wouldn't be able to wipe the genuine smile off your face if you tried.
>It's not just her achievement that's making you feel good, but her just how...happy she looks.
>Well, more so surprised, and maybe a little unsure, but there's no doubt that she's reveling in this moment.
>But you know that your teaching methods need to spend a bit more time in the planning phase.
>"How about we take a break, and continue this another time?" you suggest.
>There's a twinge of disappointment on her face for a millisecond, but it immediately reverts back.
>"Oh... Okay," she speaks with a nod.
>Sophia looks from the paper to her twiddling fingers.
>"It was fun," she puts in.
>"Fun, hm?" there's another small taste of pride in your chest. "You'd make a great student, Sophia."
>She's doesn't respond right away, and for a second, you worry you may have said something wrong.
>"...D-Do you really think so?" she says softly.
>"I know so," you admit, that response was a little corny.
>"Thank you, Anon."
>Corny, but effecti-
>...
>Your mind froze for a second, after having realized she said your name.
>That shouldn't have surprised you so much, but it did.
>In an epiphany emphasizing the obvious, you realize that YOU are the one who's been taking care of her.
>YOU are the one who's providing food and shelter for her. You're even attempting to start an education for her.
>In realizing all of this, you begin to feel...
>...Afraid?
>...
>Maybe this is all a big mistake, the consequences just haven't come into fruition yet.
>Is it too late to-
>No, stop.
>You mentally slap yourself.
>Are are NOT going to just dump her back in the streets.
>What the hell are you getting so scared all of the sudden?
>Everything has been going fine. In fact, you dare think that things are going better than fine.
>Let's just...shake this feeling.
>You stand up. Sophia simply watches.
>She appears expectant, as if waiting for an order.
>"How about I make us some dinner?" you ask.
>"Okay," she nods.
>As you collect the papers, you realize you could have easily put on some sort of educational program on your laptop.
>In retrospect, it probably would have been much more effective than you were.
>Why hadn't that crossed your mind?
>Though, that seems a little...impersonal?
>Maybe you can still guide her through it. No reason not to.

***

(To be updated)