Before him, the meadow was white and motionless, its silence folded between his strides.

A woman stood by the shallow pool, waiting. Her clothes were draped loosely, layered in gentle folds that clung to the slightest air movement. Her face was composed and hidden in the fog, and he sensed the quiet solemnity of her being there before he did.

Half-swallowed by the fog, the faint figures of men and women stood motionless behind her. They just watched; they didn't talk or move.

The boy’s bag sagged heavily at his side. He lowered it to the ground, fingers trembling slightly as the material gave way to what it held.

Inside, the three infants lay asleep, their breaths shallow and uneven, as if borrowed from another world. They had been asleep ever since the crying spells and the 'Flower' encounter.

The woman knelt. Her hands were warm as she lifted the first child, then the second, then the third. Her movements were unhurried and patient, as though she had done this before countless times. Three other women would accompany her, checking them for injuries, and so on. But they did find genders. Additionally, the female appears to be ill. One boy and two females. It likely explained the mystery man's behavior. Before retreating, the boy gave the women another smile. They were frowning, one of them. He would retreat a bit. Didn't the group consist of five people? He bumped into a big man standing behind him. He was looking tired. Behind him, his robes dragged. He was obviously bare, with curly blond hair on his chest. He had a frightening appearance! similar to a bear. He appeared to have been awake or awakened. The woman struggled to apprehend the boy, which caused him to awaken. They were all familiar with this man. He looked terrible. Emptied. But the child was aware that he had been crying. The toddler knew; he knew the boy was aware. Which made the boy smile even more.

One of the women stood up, and turned to face the boy without saying anything. Between them, the air felt charged, intensely alive but neither warm nor cold.

Reaching forward, she placed her palm on his forehead. A human and sacred gesture, her hand lingered there. Then she leaned over and kissed his chin without saying a word.

It all stopped for a second. The breath in his chest, the faint sound of distant water, the mist—stilled. Everyone emitted smoke from their heated bodies. The tiny one is included. The man appeared to be in his fortys or sixties just by his movements alone; however, he looked quite old. Older looking than 'Flower,' with several aging lines. Nothing too serious. No wrinkles. Or such. His neck was embraced by his short, curly hair. large curls.

And then she was gone. Her form dissolved gently into the air, veil and all, as though the fog had reclaimed her. One of the women had left, kissing the babies goodbye.

The boy exhaled. He had planned to keep the infants. However, he would be open to giving them up to these kind women. to transport them to the end of the road. There was peace in the fact that he was now standing empty-handed. Alone again. 

The meadow breathed once more and then fell silent. The larger man stood still, still trying to wake up as he was told. What the tiny one did. He smiled. He looked happy. He bared his 'large teeth!' is what the boy had thought. A bear! A bear! His eyebrows would arch angrily. The other three women stood beside the man. It was obvious those were his wives. All of them, he stood on a trail. He had found his way out; the golden shackles would glisten immediately when he stepped into the light. They'd attach around his ankles. Wrists and neck area. He'd play in the dirt quite happily.