Chapter 4: Are You Lost, Little Girl?

After a few seconds, one of them stepped forward to check if the beasts were truly dead. "They're dead. Let's proceed."

With a collective nod, the group prepared to move on when one of them suddenly spoke. "Captain, what about her?" He gestured toward Xhaelyn, who sat perched on a tree branch.

Xhaelyn frowned, internally lamenting, I forgot to hide my presence once their situation calmed down.

She let out a silent sigh as she stared at them. Meanwhile, the captain of the mercenary group—who had arrived last—finally spoke. "Are you lost, little girl?"

Xhaelyn's expression remained neutral as she met the captain's gaze. His tone was cautious but not unkind, though the underlying wariness in his stance didn't escape her notice. The rest of his group observed her curiously—some with suspicion, others with mild concern.

She tilted her head slightly, feigning confusion. "Lost?" she echoed, her voice carrying the innocence expected of a child her apparent age.

The captain narrowed his eyes, studying her. His armor bore scratches from battle, and a faint scar ran down his left cheek—evidence of years spent in combat. "This forest isn't a place for children," he stated. "Where are your parents?"

Xhaelyn hesitated. What should I say?

Instead of answering, she hopped down from the tree with effortless grace, landing lightly on her feet. A few mercenaries tensed at her movement, their hands instinctively reaching for their weapons.

"I'm not lost," she said simply, brushing the dirt off her clothes.

The captain exchanged glances with his men before turning back to her. "Then why are you here?"

Xhaelyn debated her response. Saying she was just 'passing through' would sound suspicious, but coming up with a fake backstory would invite even more questions. Before she could answer, a mercenary muttered under his breath, "Creepy kid."

"Owen, cut it out. She's just a child," Carlo reprimanded. He was the only one who had shown concern for her so far. As a father to a daughter around the same age, he couldn't help but feel protective.

"What? Look at the height of that tree she just jumped from. And her expressions," Owen countered.

At his words, the rest of the mercenaries gave Xhaelyn another look, scrutinizing her more closely. Only now did they notice her bruised body and deathly pale skin. And then there was her face—completely devoid of emotion.

Jacob, the mercenary captain, sighed at both the state of his team and the unsettling image of the child before him. He decided to take a gentler approach.

Crossing his arms, he asked, "Alright, kid. If you're not lost, then what are you doing here?" His voice had lost its earlier suspicion, though caution still lingered.

Xhaelyn met his gaze, unreadable. The weight of their stares pressed on her, expectant and questioning. It was clear they wouldn't let her leave without an explanation.

"I was… running," she finally said, choosing her words carefully. It wasn't a lie.

"Running from what?" Carlo asked, concern evident in his tone.

Xhaelyn hesitated briefly before pointing toward the fallen duskrend beasts. "Them."

A few mercenaries exchanged glances, surprised.

"You mean to tell me," Owen said, raising an eyebrow, "that you managed to escape from those things? Alone?"

Xhaelyn gave a small nod.

Disbelief settled over the group. Duskrend beasts were relentless hunters, even for seasoned fighters. The idea of a child escaping them—let alone surviving long enough to find them—was difficult to believe.

Jacob let out another sigh, rubbing his temples. He wasn't sure whether to believe her, but the bruises and battered state of her body at least supported the claim that she had been through something.

"Where's your home?" he asked instead.

Xhaelyn blinked. That's a problem. She had no answer. She couldn't exactly tell them she had just transmigrated into this world with no past to speak of.

Thinking quickly, she lowered her gaze slightly, as if reluctant to answer. "Far," she murmured.

Jacob frowned. She was hiding something—he was certain of it—but he sensed hesitation rather than deception.

Carlo crouched to her level, his voice soft. "Kid, do you have anywhere safe to go?"

Xhaelyn remained silent for a moment before shaking her head.

Jacob exhaled sharply, resigned. "We can't just leave her here."

Owen scoffed. "Oh, great. Now we're taking in strays?"

"She's a kid, Owen," Carlo shot back, glaring.

Jacob ignored their bickering, keeping his focus on Xhaelyn. "Listen, we're heading back to town. You can come with us for now."

Xhaelyn weighed her options. She didn't sense any malice from them, so traveling with them seemed relatively safe. And even if they had bad intentions, she could handle herself and slip away when needed. More importantly, going with them meant she could gather information about where she was.

Her prolonged silence made the mercenaries believe she was wary and hesitant. Especially Carlo, whose heart ached at the thought of what this child must have endured to end up in such a state—bruised, alone, and so guarded.

He softened his voice further. "Don't worry, we won't hurt you, okay?"

Xhaelyn studied him for a moment before giving a small nod. "Alright."

Jacob gave a curt nod in return before signaling to his team. "Let's go. We don't want to stay in this forest longer than necessary."

As they started walking, Xhaelyn followed, silently observing the mercenaries. It seemed she had unintentionally become part of their journey—for now.

They walked with the heavy weight of the duskrend carcasses strapped to their backs. As dusk settled, one of them scouted for a safe spot to rest for the night.

By the time their camp was set up, a fire crackled in the center, casting flickering shadows on the trees around them. The scent of simmering broth filled the air as they cooked their meal.

Carlo approached Xhaelyn, handing her a bowl filled with hot soup.

She accepted it, murmuring, "Thank you."

Carlo smiled, then reached out his hand toward her head, intending to ruffle her hair.

Xhaelyn immediately stepped back, her eyes narrowing in warning.

Carlo froze mid-motion, surprised by her reaction. The flicker of wariness in her gaze wasn't the shyness of a normal child—it was the guarded reflex of someone who had learned not to trust so easily.

Jacob, watching from the side, let out a quiet sigh. Just what has this child been through?

"She's not used to kindness, Carlo," he muttered before addressing Xhaelyn directly. "Little girl, sorry if Carlo startled you. He has a daughter back home around your age—five years old."

Xhaelyn, who had already started eating, paused and glanced at him. "I'm seven."

The mercenaries blinked in surprise.

Owen scoffed. "Are you sure? You're as small as a five-year-old."

Xhaelyn resisted the urge to sigh. She was certain of her age—this was exactly how tall she had been at seven in her previous life. Why am I always so small? she lamented internally. Her parents in her first life—though she had lost them early—had been tall, yet she had inherited none of their height. It seemed her physique had remained the same through both her past and current lives.