When the child gave their reply, All of it, Thea was startled initially, but then she mentally shook herself.

Well, there’s no telling just how sheltered or isolated this child has been. I’ll just find them the most comprehensive books I can, ones that a child might understand.

She assumed, despite their apparent ignorance, that they could read if they were asking for books, so she didn’t ask and just went to pull the books off the shelves. She ended up pulling three books, ones with text that was on the larger side and that were written for more general audiences. But she still worried that the child might not be able to understand them.

“Do you need me to read some of it to you? I don’t mind really. You’re the only visitor at the moment.” She smiled as she sat the books down in the child’s lap.

The child shook their head. “I will read them myself.” Their lips slowly turned up into a small smile. It was as if they were unaccustomed to smiling–a thought which saddened Thea. “Um, thank you.”

Thea stood, her finger pointing into the air. “Oh, right! I have something else for you. I’ll be right back.” She scurried to the tiny closet-like office behind the circulation desk. She rarely used it, so it was stacked with boxes and other items she often needed but didn’t want to clutter the circulation desk with. She kept a box of snacks for when she was stuck watching the library and could not always close up to grab a quick lunch, usually at the restaurant just down the street.

Grabbing a handful of packages of dried fruit and granola, as well as a muffin she had put in there this morning from her stop by the bakery, and returned to find the child turning the pages quite quickly in the middle of the second book she’d given them. Hmm…there are no pictures in them. Are they just skimming for something in particular? But when the child looked up from the book at her, she pushed those thoughts away.

“I have some snacks. They aren’t much, but they might help if you’re hungry. Just be sure not to drop crumbs on the books.”

“Snacks?”

“Yes, just some small foods that I keep on hand in the library in case I get hungry. Don’t worry though, I have plenty for myself.” Thea held out the packets and muffin.

The child closed the book they had been looking at and sat it to the side in the chair with the others. Slowly, they touched one of the packets of dried fruit but then moved their hand to the muffin. Cautiously, they put it to their mouth and took a bite. Thea had the satisfaction of watching as the child’s eyes lit up. Their next bites were much more enthusiastic, and it wasn’t long before the muffin was gone.

“More?” the child asked.

“That was my only muffin for now, but I have these.” She held out the packets of granola and dried fruit. The dried fruit was nice and chewy and sweet, so she pushed that packet forward a bit on her hand. The child took it but seemed to get frustrated with the packet, not sure how to open it. She reached out. “I can open it for you.”

The child’s attention was fixed on her hands as if storing the movements in their memory as she grabbed each end and gently unfolded the wax paper. She gave the opened packet back to the child. Satisfied that the child had seen how to open the packets, she laid the packet of granola on the arm of the chair and walked back to the circulation desk to give the child some space. It wasn’t long before she heard the granola packet being opened.

She got up a few more times to check on the child, but they only asked for more books on general topics: one on government, one on natural sciences, and one on the basics of mana and magic tools. Each time, the child seemed to breeze through the moderately thick books quite quickly.

If they really are reading through these books fully, they’d have to be some sort of genius. She wanted to conclude that the child was just skimming through things, but each time they’d asked for another book, the topic was more specific and seemed as if they truly had understood at least most of the previous book they’d finished.

It wasn’t long before the two bells of time passed by, and it was time to close the library down for the night. As she approached, the child closed the last book and placed it on top of the stack of previously read books beside them and looked up at her.

Thea felt her heart sink at the thought of turning this child out onto the street this late in the evening alone. She knelt down in front of the child and asked the question she hoped had a positive answer. “I have to close the library up now for the night and go home. Do you have a safe home to head to? If it’s on the way, I can walk you there.”

“Home…no, I don’t have something like that,” the child replied, and Thea’s heart sank further. The child didn’t appear distressed by that fact though, which only made Thea more concerned.

“I could walk you to the temple. They take in children who have no home, protect them, give them food and clothing too.” The temple orphans didn’t always have the best life, but it was better than being out on the street or in an unsafe home.

“Does the temple give the children muffins and books to read?” the child asked with the same serious expression they’d had all evening.

“Uh, no…no, I don’t think they do,” she said, blinking quickly. Thea was taken back by the oddity and suddenness of that question.

“Ah, then no. I don’t want to go to the temple.” Somehow the child’s decision had a heavy sense of finality to it. “Is your home filled with books like this?”

“Well, sometimes. I have a few books of my own, but I often borrow books from this library or the main branch in the central district.” She pursed her lips, wondering what prompted that question until her mind connected the dots. “Ah, are you saying you’d want to come home with me?”

“Am I not allowed to? Do you not want me to?” the child asked, tilting their head. For the first time a look of disappointment started to creep into their expression.

Thea stood. Rubbing the back of her head she began to pace a bit. “Ah, it’s not that I don’t want you to or that you aren’t allowed, but I…I don’t know if I can properly care for a child. I’m only twenty-three, and I’m unmarried. My apartments may not–” She stopped herself, realizing that she was nervously babbling and the poor child probably didn’t understand any of it.

“But you’ve taken care of me just fine now?”

“But that’s not–” Thea sighed and clasped her hands in front of her chest. She couldn’t deny that watching the child devour book after book and thoroughly devour the muffin and snacks had been enjoyable. And if the child was truly some kind of genius, it would be a shame for them to stay on the streets or end up in the temple orphanage where their days would be spent cleaning and doing small chores for the temple. And the child seemed to appreciate books quite a lot–that was something she could understand.

Thea knelt back down in front of the child and held out her hand. I must be crazy, she thought. But aloud, she said, “Alright, we can try that for now, but we need to be open to other solutions if this doesn’t workout, okay?”

“Okay.” The child took her hand and hopped down out of the chair.

She left the child standing by the circulation desk as she quickly ran back upstairs and checked through the shelves just to be absolutely certain that the library was empty and nothing was too out of place that it couldn’t wait until the morning. All the while, she was thinking, I can’t believe I’m doing this.

Once done, she remembered to grab her bag and placed the borrowed cookbook within it before slinging the strap over her shoulder. Then, she quickly pulled on her coat and placed her hat on her head, wiggling the pin through. “Okay, hold onto my hand.” She walked out with the child after they grabbed hold of her hand once more, and she bent down with the key to lock up once they were outside.

But as she straightened and looked down at the calm child beside her, she began to worry that the child might not have the strength for the long walk ahead of them. Her apartment was all the way on the western side of the eastern district, just on the border with the central district. She didn’t mind the walk and relished the bit of exercise, but the same couldn’t be said for a child who was possibly underweight and who had shorter legs and thin shoes.

I guess there’s no help for it. I’ll have to hail a carriage.

She smiled at the child as they looked up at her with a tilt of their head. Ah, I can’t believe I’m doing this, she thought again, but at least she felt less panicked this time.