Caelan had discovered that understanding people was considerably more difficult than understanding things.
A broken instrument could be examined. A book could be studied. Even magic, despite its unfamiliar principles, followed rules that could eventually be observed and tested.
People were different.
They said things they didn't mean, believed things they couldn't prove, and sometimes became offended by answers that were perfectly reasonable.
Caelan found this unnecessarily complicated.
Unfortunately, his mother had decided that he needed more interaction with children his own age.
"You spend too much time indoors," Elara told him one morning.
"I'm learning."
"You can learn outside."
"There's more noise outside."
"Then you'll learn to concentrate."
He suspected the discussion had been decided before it began.
By midday, he was walking beside her toward a small courtyard near the eastern district of Westmere. The area was maintained by the settlement's residents and frequently used by families with young children. Several wooden structures provided climbing spaces, while benches surrounded a central patch of grass.
A few children were already playing there.
Caelan recognized the arrangement immediately. Adults sat together at the edges, exchanging conversation while keeping an eye on their children. The younger ones ran around without much direction, occasionally arguing over toys before forgetting what they had been arguing about.
It looked familiar enough.
That didn't mean he was eager to participate.
"Go on," Elara encouraged.
Caelan glanced at her.
"Where?"
She gave him a patient look.
"Meet someone."
He considered pointing out that he had no particular reason to meet anyone. Instead, he walked toward the nearest wooden structure and examined its construction.
It was a poor design.
The supports were uneven, and one of the upper platforms appeared slightly loose. He was still deciding whether it would be safe to climb when a boy approached him.
"Are you new here?"
Caelan turned.
The boy was about his age, perhaps a little taller, with reddish-brown hair and an expression suggesting that he had already decided the conversation would be interesting.
"No."
"I haven't seen you before."
"That doesn't mean I'm new."
The boy stared at him.
Then he laughed.
"You're strange."
Caelan had heard that description in his previous life, although usually from adults who meant something different by it.
"What's your name?" the boy asked.
"Caelan."
"I'm Tomas."
Tomas waited.
After several seconds, Tomas frowned.
"You're supposed to ask my surname."
"Why?"
"So I can tell you."
"Then tell me."
Tomas looked genuinely offended.
Caelan began to suspect that his mother had underestimated the difficulty of this assignment.
Before Tomas could respond, another child approached. This one was a girl with dark blond hair tied behind her head. She carried a small wooden figure shaped like a winged creature.
"Tomas, stop bothering people."
"I'm not bothering him."
"You always say that."
"I'm just talking."
The girl turned to Caelan.
"Sorry. He does this to everyone."
"I can hear you," Tomas complained.
"Good."
She introduced herself as Mira and explained that the wooden figure was a miniature griffin. Its wings were unevenly carved, but the body had been painted with considerable care.
Caelan asked where she had obtained it.
"My grandfather made it."
"Is he a craftsman?"
"Yes. He makes toys and furniture."
"Then why is the carving uneven?"
Mira's expression changed.
Tomas immediately began laughing.
Caelan realized his mistake a moment too late.
"I didn't mean it as an insult," he explained. "I was asking because the rest of the carving is quite good."
Mira looked down at the toy.
"My grandfather's hands aren't as steady as they used to be."
The information changed the context completely.
Caelan had evaluated the object without considering the person who had made it.
He remembered his father's advice about distinguishing what he knew from what he assumed.
"I understand," he said. "It's still well made."
Mira examined him for a moment before accepting the explanation.
Tomas, however, had discovered something much more entertaining.
"You talk like an old man."
Caelan looked at him.
"And you talk too much."
For a moment, all three children stood silently.
Then Mira laughed.
Tomas looked astonished. This story is hosted at g.com.
"You can make jokes!"
"Apparently."
The conversation became easier after that.
Not easy, exactly, but easier.
Mira explained the rules of a game they were playing, while Tomas insisted on changing those rules whenever he began losing. Caelan initially refused to participate, claiming that the game made little sense.
Eventually, he joined them.
He lost the first round because he misunderstood a rule.
He lost the second because Tomas cheated.
By the third, Caelan had learned enough to recognize the cheating and point it out.
Tomas protested loudly.
Mira declared Caelan the winner.
The argument lasted several minutes, accomplishing nothing except making all three of them laugh.
Caelan found the experience unexpectedly pleasant.
For years, he had thought of conversation as a means of exchanging information. In his previous life, he had often preferred solitude because it was predictable and required less effort.
But these children weren't trying to accomplish anything important.
They were simply enjoying themselves.
And, despite his initial reluctance, he discovered that he could do the same.
Later that afternoon, Elara found him sitting on a bench with Mira while Tomas attempted to climb the structure Caelan had inspected earlier.
"Did you have fun?" she asked.
Caelan considered the question.
"Mostly."
"Mostly?"
"Tomas cheats."
Elara covered a smile.
"Then perhaps you should find better friends."
"I don't think that's necessary."
The answer surprised him.
It surprised her too.
She studied him for a moment, then gently brushed a stray lock of hair away from his forehead.
"I'm glad."
On the walk home, Caelan thought about the afternoon.
He had learned very little about magic, history, or the dangers beyond Westmere. He hadn't solved a complicated problem or discovered anything remarkable.
Yet he had accomplished something he hadn't planned for.
He had met two people and found himself looking forward to seeing them again.
It was a small thing.
But as the evening sun stretched across the streets, Caelan realized that his new life couldn't be measured entirely by what he learned or how much stronger he became.
Some experiences were valuable simply because they gave him a reason to return tomorrow.
And for the first time in a long while, tomorrow was something he genuinely looked forward to.