The soft, amber glow of the early morning sun filtered through the windows of Dama’s cabin. The air was still, save for the faint rustle of the blankets. Dama stirred awake, his senses coming to as he felt movement beneath the shared blanket.

  He sat up and rubbed his eyes, glancing down at the figure lying beside him. Giona, curled into a ball with her back turned toward him, was moving slightly, her small body tense under the fabric. Her breaths were uneven, though she tried to keep them quiet.

  With a yawn, he asked, “Giona?” Dama whispered softly, his boyish voice high-pitched, yet gentle, careful not to startle her. “You okay? Why are you squirming like that?”

  For a moment, there was no response. Then, Giona mumbled something incoherent, her words tangled and muffled by the blanket. She gave a small, hesitant nod but kept her back to him, her shoulders stiff.

  Dama blinked, tilting his head in confusion. He frowned and his brow furrowed, but decided it was best not to push her. After all, he had already learned in their brief time together that she wasn’t ready for too many questions or sudden attention.

  “A-All right.” he responded, leaning back and stretching his arm. “Hope I didn't bother you.”

  With a contented sigh after the stretch, Dama glanced around the room, letting his eyes adjust to the dim light. His gaze fell to the floor near the bed, where Nina lay curled up, her patchwork body rising and falling. Her stitched ears twitched slightly, her paws sometimes jerking, as if she was acting out a dream.

  But, even in the moment of cuteness, Dama unconsciously knew something felt off.

  Surveying his own cabin thrice more, he realized why it felt off: Mumu, his other companion, was nowhere to be seen. “Huh...? Where’d Mumu go?” he murmured under his breath.

  He swung his legs over the side of the bed, careful not to disturb Giona, who had gone completely still now, her back still turned to him. Dama’s hand brushed against the edge of the blanket as he rose to his feet, his curiosity outweighing his sleepiness.

  "This wouldn't be the first time this has happened," Dama thought to himself in the silence of morning, glancing at Nina, "both of them have free will and can do whatever they want. Still, this is a bit strange, where could Mumu have go-?"

  It was then, in the middle of Dama's thoughts, when a soft sound broke the stillness—light pats, like raindrops against wood. Dama turned his head toward the door, a bit shocked. The noise came again, deliberate and rhythmic.

  "There's no way..." Dama said under his breath as he crossed the room quickly, careful to avoid stepping on Nina, who remained peacefully curled up. He unlatched the wooden door and pulled it open, revealing Mumu standing outside, his pudgy figure blocking most of the outside view.

  “Mumu!” Dama exclaimed, his tired expression lighting up with joy at the sight of his stitched companion. “You’re back!”

  As Dama's eyes adjusted to the outside light, he focused more on Mumu, who stood there with something in his hands-a small, battered cauldron filled to the brim with water. A few droplets spilled over the rim, glistening in the morning light. His black slits for eyes arched upwards, and the faintest crinkle of his stitched snout gave the impression of a smile.

  Transitioning from a face of delight, to curiosity, then concern, Dama stepped forward, bringing his hand on Mumu's arm. “Hey, I really appreciate when you do stuff like this, but you’ve gotta warn me first when you go off on your own. You know it worries me, anything can happen to you!”

  Mumu tilted his head to the side as he swayed a bit, causing some more water to spill over the cauldron's edge. After a long moment, he then looked down, his shoulders hunching in defeat, as so did his stitched smile turn upside-down.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  Seeing this, Dama stood on his tippy-toes and reached out to ruffle the fur on Mumu’s head. “Aw, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.” he said softly, almost being able to feel Mumu's own sadness.

  Mumu looked up at him again, his stitched features reforming back into a faint smile as he set down the cauldron then patted Dama’s head in return.

  Dama laughed, his earlier concern melting away as he rubbed Mumu's patting arm. “Okay, okay, I forgive you. But still, what’s with this water?” he gestured to the cauldron, raising an eyebrow. “We already have enough for stew in the pantry, don’t we?”

  Mumu stared at him for a moment, then raised his stubby arms and mimicked a motion that took Dama a second to understand. He tucked one stub under the opposite arm, rubbing it in an exaggerated manner.

  It clicked. “Wait...are you saying it’s for bathing?” Dama asked, his voice rising in surprise.

  Mumu nodded, his stitches tugging into an unmistakable grin.

  Dama blinked, then instinctively raised an arm to sniff his armpit. He flinched slightly and laughed nervously. “Oof, you're right. Maybe a bath right now isn’t such a bad idea.” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked back at Muma.

  In a surprising move, Mumu pulled Dama into a hug out of the blue, though Dama already knew this was his way of saying: "I’m taking care of you."

  Dama smiled with gratitude as he giggled and hugged back. “All right, all right! Let’s get this bath ready before Giona wakes up.”

  Now in the back of Dama's cabin, the boy stepped into the washroom, the cool air of the main room giving way to the faint earthy scent of polished wood.

  The washroom was simple, but functional, with the entire space crafted from hardwood. Several wooden buckets were stacked neatly in one corner, ready to be filled and dumped over himself. Small shelves lined the sidewall, holding folded white towels that were frayed at the edges from use. Off to the side, a raised wall sectioned off a corner of the room, marking the bathing area—a small, recessed pool with a drain at the bottom. Finally, a large, slightly foggy mirror hung on the wall opposite the entrance.

  All of it crafted and routinely maintained by the hands of Mr. Koul.

  Then came in Mumu, his arrival reflected in the mirror. He set down the now simmering cauldron of water, heated for some time in the fireplace, on the wooden floor with a soft thud.

  Giving a thumbs up for Mumu to see in the mirror, Dama caught a glimpse of himself. His messy hair, the smudges of slobber on his cheeks, and the faint sweat marks was evident of him requiring a bath. “Yeah, I really do need this.” he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair.

  He turned back toward the cauldron, crouching slightly as he began ladling the water into the buckets one by one. Mumu tried his best to help without getting in the way.

  "Ah, this should do it!” Dama said with as he carried the first bucket over to the raised bath area. “Time to freshen up!" he said as the first bucket emptied into the recessed pool, pooling at the bottom.

  As Dama continued emptying bucket after bucket, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of gratitude toward Mr. Koul. This washroom had been one of the few luxuries Dama allowed himself after settling in the cabin. The craftsmanship made every bath feel like a small escape from the weight of his responsibilities.

  With the last bucket filled, Dama stepped back and admired the steam rising faintly from the bathwater. He glanced at Mumu, who gave him an encouraging nod.

  “All right, all right. I’m going.” he said with a small laugh. First taking off his shirt, an activity Dama had long since found to do easily with one arm, he prepared to slip out of his pants, but stopped after noticing Mumu still standing there. "A little privacy, Mumu?"

  Mumu tilted his head to one side again, confusion forming itself within the stitches on his face. Right after, he would start rubbing himself, mimicking the actions of a bath.

  Dama, however, dismissed his friend's sign of help. "Mumu, we've been over this—while I am immensely grateful for the things you do, the things you have done, and the things you will do in the future, when it comes to some things, I can take care of myself. I am turning fourteen this year, you know?"

  Raising a paw to his face, Mumu looked as if he was contemplating Dama's words. With each passing second, the stitches on his snout would curve more and more into a frown—that is until his entire body perked up at an idea. Mumu then slammed one paw on top of the other, nodded, and walked out of the washroom.

  Meanwhile, Dama lowered himself into the lukewarm bathwater water, his previous feeling of slight confusion being replaced with a warm wave of refreshing relaxation.

  "I wonder what I'm going to do today…”