Be kind, Quimor. Be strong, Quimor. The words echoed in a head now empty.

  His back lay on a soft bed of grass. It was the intensifying fragrance of roasted chicken that awoke him. Consciousness gradually seeped into his body and he opened his eyes. He had passed out on a riverbank it seemed. Taking a deep breath, finding refuge in the calm and gentle sound of the water rushing past and the rustle of leaves in the forest ahead, he lay back down and looked up at the sky blankly.

  Immense and unnatural exhaustion filled his body and mind. For a few minutes, he just lay there, eyes skyward and ears listening. His nose twitched, the smell of food kept him awake and alert; then, it caused his stomach to grumble.

  He mustered the strength to sit. A strange feeling of detachment washed over him as he moved his black hair from his eyes and looked at his arms and legs, his expression was as though he was surprised they were there. The wafting rich scent gave him further strength to stand. He took in his surroundings: a river with a forest on one side and plains on the other. Walking up the bank, following the smell, he then saw a small, humble cottage.

  Beyond the cottage, a distance away were high walls, likely protecting a town or city. With great effort, he painfully walked to the cottage, his hunger growing as the smell became stronger.

  Once he reached the door, he knocked. Behind the door he could hear the muffled sounds of children conversing and a sequence of someone putting something metal down and walking over to the door, opening it to see a boy no older than 12, crimson hollow red eyes and pitch black hair - shaggy and messy - that hung down to his waist.

  The last thing he saw before he fell forward, unable to keep standing, was the kind face of a woman in her thirties, long brown hair tied in a bun, an old apron adorning her.

  She caught him. Some of the children inside turned their attention to the scene in the doorway. The woman quickly glanced around outside, searching for anyone that might know the boy or might have come here with him, but she found no one. She called over one of the older kids, a 16 year old named Teerom. "Help me bring him to my bed." She requested.

  Teerom set down his fork and jogged over, taking most of the weight of the black-haired boy from the woman, Madella. The thing he noted most was the unnatural paleness of this boy, some part of him feared that it was a vampire that had stumbled into their home.

  Together, Madella and Teerom carried the young boy onto a bed underneath a staircase, the other children in the cottage watching and coming along.

  Teerom ran some checks on the boy despite another child, Jurie, a girl one year younger than himself, teasing him on his cautiousness.

  "You can never be too cautious." Teerom checked the boy's teeth - no fangs - he checked his pulse - a weak but present heartbeat - he bought a piece of reflective glass - a normal reflection.

  "You know they tend to stay indoors when the sun's out." Jurie commented,

  "Or in caves!" A little boy with caramel skin, the youngest of the pack added.

  None of them had the medical prowess to examine the boy, but Jurie still tried regardless. She opened his eye lid - her eyes narrowed and her face darkened when she saw the bright red.

  "He looks just like him." Teerom's eyebrows furrowed and his gaze intensified.

  The rest of the orphans held back the urge to enquire on Teerom, Jurie, and their mother's sudden hesitation.

  "But he's not him." Madella stepped forward onto the bed and held the pale boy's cheek in her hand. "He's warm."

  The boy seemed to respond. Tears began to flow from his eyes down the sides of his head - he relished in Madella's touch, snuggling his cheek into her hand. "Mom..." He cried, his face twisted with sorrow.

  "You're okay. I'm right here." Madella shifted her weight to sit properly beside him, now with her other hand holding one of his - he tightened his grip as he opened his eyes. She was a pretty woman, a brunette in her early thirties, a small beauty mark beside her lip, bright brown eyes, and a warm, cozy smile.

  She helped him sit up. "What's your name?" She asked, rubbing his back.

  Her answer was returned with a blank stare. His eyes were entirely devoid of any essence; something deep within them hinted at hesitation. Hesitation to remember.

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  "Do you remember your name?" She pressed gently.

  He shook his head.

  "Would you like a name?"

  Slowly, he nodded.

  "How about-"

  A bright-eyed, energetic 9-year-old, Bacha interrupted her, "He's all pale. Let's call him Paley!"

  "That's a terrible name!" Reben argued, a boy one year younger. "We should call him Vladimir." He suggested. Teerom immediately regretted sharing the stories of the vampire nation with Reben.

  "Vampires aren't cool, Reben. They suck." Adimia, a bald by choice, 13-year-old offered his opinion, "They're monsters. It's a knight's duty to slay the creatures that threaten the peace."

  "That'd be monster hunters, Adimia." Teerom corrected.

  "No! It's knights. Knights are the coolest!" Adimia argued.

  "I like the sound of Paley." Jurie cut in.

  "So do I." Madella agreed, turning to the boy in the bed. "How do you like Paley?"

  "I-I don't mind..." The boy seemed more awkward than hesitant now. The atmosphere of this cottage had immediately changed his state of mind. He knew he didn't fit in in the least. Somewhere deep down, something tugged at him. The feeling of being foreign. Of being unacceptable. But he still saw their cozy home and tried to hide the fact that he desperately wanted to be a part of it.

  "Paley, it is." Madella ruffled his hair, "Do you want to live here with us?"

  "N-No. I don't want to burden you." He looked down at his sheets.

  Teerom laughed. "You know I was a little worried that-" He stopped himself, choosing to leave whatever it was that he was going to mention in the past, "You won't be a burden. All of us here play a part in this family. An extra pair of hands would be good."

  "Look at you taking the initiative." Madella teased, making him blush, then she looked back at Paley for his answer.

  He looked around their faces. Teerom, Jurie, Adimia, Reben, Bacha, and Amasha. There was one more, a 7-year-old, who seemed to be staring at him blankly. She had bright flame-like red hair and crimson eyes like his, though a shade darker. He finally looked at Madella.

  "I'll do my best. I'll never let you down." Paley spoke. His words weren't forced but their earnestness warmed their hearts.

  "Try not to take it too seriously." Jurie snickered.

  His stomach grumbled, a sound like a fissure. Already he was being a burden.

  "Good timing. Let's get some hot food in you." Madella smiled and took him to the table. There were only 8 chairs for the 8 members of the family. To him, it was an overwhelming kindness when Madella slid her chair and offered it to him, standing behind him and encouraging him to be more bold with the food. Especially with Adimia, Reben, and Amasha around. All three had aspirations to become great men that fight for the people. All three insisted on needing to eat as much as possible. It was Teerom and Jurie that looked out for everyone, mainly ensuring the quiet Rauba, the red-haired girl, got to enjoy the limited food.

  During the dinner, the orphans introduced themselves to Paley. He gave it his all to memorise their names and understand every aspect of them that they presented.

  Teerom was the oldest and somewhat of a nerd, idolising one of the Four Quimnias, Aneros. Jurie and him went way back, Jurie was Madella's first orphan, and it showed in her picking up Madella's sweet and caring traits. Adimia was a boisterous lad who had shaved his head as a military drill - he desperately wished to be a knight despite his magicless state. Bacha was outspoken but not loud, she seemed to come from the Hijian continent, an assumption he made based on her almond-shaped eyes and smooth fair skin. Reben was an awkward boy, he often minced words and struggled to keep eye contact, but he had a good heart. Rauba was the quietest and strangely dignified, or perhaps she was just tense. As she introduced herself, Paley had no idea whether she wanted him there or wanted him gone. Amasha was the youngest and the most energetic, he came from the Nijian continent, a rare sight in Eri.

  The sun was high in the sky and another wave of exhaustion washed over Paley. He tried to remain awake as the orphans tried to get to know him. They had begun to launch question after question in an attempt to revive Paley's memory after finding out he had forgotten everything. Madella knew there was something deeper than just memory loss. She scanned his expression as the others attempted a memory reboot and saw a hesitation and lingering pain - perhaps a pain that he himself did not know of.

  "That's enough, guys." She clapped her hands and took control. "Paley is tired." She rested a hand on his shoulder and smiled to comfort him, "You don't need to remember anything if you're not ready. Besides, you can always make more memories." She guided him upstairs to a large room connected to a bathroom shared by all the orphans. It was a shoddy two floor cottage but his body craved to sleep on the beds, even if they were cheap and hard.

  "Who'd like to offer up their bed?" She turned to the orphans. They looked away avoidantly, pretending not to have heard her.

  Teerom offered, raising his hand meekly after seeing the other orphans' hesitance.

  "Good boy," Madella pinched Teerom's cheeks, "I'll make sure to get you some chocolate next time we go shopping."

  "Mother, I'm a little old for chocolate." In reality, he did not want her to spend any more.

  "You can never be too old for chocolate." She said playfully,

  "I..." Paley began as she sat him down on the bed, "I want to extend my gratitude... truly ."

  Madella laughed at his formality. "Maybe you were a noble before."

  "Leia, I hope he's not." Jurie scoffed.

  Paley found nothing to say.

  The orphans watched him tuck in - he felt a slight anxiety being watched as his body begged him to sleep. Fortunately, it was an easy passing into the world of rest and darkness. He did not dream. He didn't remember if he could. But he did know that others dreamt. He wondered. What does it mean to dream? Does it mean to want? Who shows people dreams? Do they only come to those who have a goal? Perhaps that was why he did not dream. He did not want anything.

  He held on to the name "Paley" as his only piece of identity in a sea of nothingness as he drifted off.