Arthur smiles. “Nowhere near as big as the ocean, but yes. It is big. But not always comfortable, or safe. It takes sixty days to get from one place to the other. You’ll be with me at all times, though. You will be safe.” Arthur learned early how battering a trip by sea is. Still, this child is, already, used to weathering storms, death, disease, callous folk and Arthur doesn’t think it can get much worse for him. It will be worth it, then, if at the end of this he has a home, as any child of their kind should. It’s hardly safe for him merely to roam about by himself, with no education, no training in anything in these times. 

      The kid nods again and smiles. “My name is James ... I never had a name before. Did you have a name before?” 

      “A long time ago. I chose Arthur for myself.” 

      “I want to be James.”

      “It’s a good name, eh?” 

       James nods, not a trace of doubt in his eyes. “What did you do before you had a name?” 

      “Eh? Same thing you’ve done, luv. I roamed about until I found my way.” Was found, rather. But it doesn’t matter which way it goes. 

      “You didn’t have a mom, either?” 

      “Not at all.”

      “What did you do?” 

      “Same thing that you’ve done, luv. Again. I roamed about until I found my way.” 

      “Will I have friends in the new place?” 

      “ … I don’t know a lot of your kind.” An unexpected question, and he can tell he’s answered it wrong, because he can see the child’s expression begin to falter into an upset panic. Almost as if he might cry. Arthur glances around as if in some sort of panic of his own, as if someone might tell him what to do or say. “But there will always be people around to take care of you. You will have everything else. I might even find you a sibling, or an animal companion.” 

      It’s pointless. He feels like he’s begging for this not to happen, but he can see it now. The quiver in his lip, the hitched breath. He keeps waiting for the horrendous moment when the child will begin to wail miserably, but it never comes. He realizes that he cries silently, bringing his hands up to wipe away at his face. Arthur doesn’t know how long he stands there, frozen, can’t tell why he keeps shaking or crying or what to do with it.

      Realizing that no one else is coming to deal with it, Arthur drops the grass and dirt and pebbles in his hands and scoops him up so that his chin is resting on his shoulder. He can’t see him crying any longer, but he can hear it and feel it and it is just as unfortunately painful. Sniffles on his shoulder. What is he supposed to do? 

      “Shhhh,” he follows it with a small staccato of shushes, sh-sh-sh-sh-sh, rocks him a bit like he’s seen not mothers but caretakers do for the princesses at home, when they are carrying their children, children that are not on their own, expertly rocking them into a lull. Only he feels woefully inadequate for it. He can’t be sure it’s doing much of anything, and tries to adopt a more casual tone. “When I was like you I had all sorts of friends, too, in the forest, you know. Back then the snakes were the size of a young human, just like you, did you know that? I woke up every morning to the sound of chirping birds, and squirrels running about, and the rats stealing my food. Animals can be nice companions too, we will just have to find ones that won’t bite. But you’ll have everything. Pets, toys, people to take care of you and read to you, they will be older than you but they will be your friends as well. And me, of course. I’ll be your … your parent, friend, mom, dad, what do you want me to be?” 

      “All the kids g-grow up, but not, but not—” Whether he finishes his sentence or not, Arthur can’t tell. He already knows what it is. He doesn’t want to hear it, but he does. Not the words, but the sound of the kid choking on his own sentence, wiping his wet hands on his shirt. “M-my friends get sick and leave and d-don’t come back.”

      “I know. I know.” Suddenly he sounds much more resigned. “It’s not your fault, do you know that? You’re special, that is all. It’s a small miracle from God, who put us here. You may not see it that way yet, but you will and you’ll soon get used to it.”

      Eventually he puts him down, even though he is not too heavy. In fact, he is not heavy at all from how malnourished he is, and maybe he would carry him all the way if he knew it would not make matters worse.