with that later. If the baby was even his.
"Should we head back to Ashoom tonight?" Elinor asked as they walked toward the town hall.
Bastian looked up at the sky. The stars sparkled above the forest bathing the small village in soft light. The same stars he'd gazed at his whole life. Unchanging. Static. Just like Hutton's Bridge. He no longer felt this cottage in front of him was his home. Bastian wasn't sure he could call any place home now.
"No, I think we should spend at least one night here," he said. "Just to make sure everyone gets settled. Once we reinstate the fog, we won’t be back until it’s time to take it down again."
"Bastian!" Hazel waved at him from across the town square, where she stood in the doorway of the village hall, her oldest son peeking out from between her legs.
"Is there enough space for everyone?" Bastian asked. They'd decided all the children and their caretakers would live together in the village hall, which used to be the old inn before the fog. The children would share rooms and the adults would sleep on the ground floor, to assure none of them ran out during the night.
"There is." Hazel nodded. She reached down, ruffled her son's hair, and then pushed him backward. "Go on inside.” She looked at Bastian again. "Farah's been asking if she can go home with you. I thought perhaps it would be best if you talked to her and told her your plans."
"Of course," Bastian said. "I meant to anyway." He hadn't thought of it, actually. Parenting was never something that had come easily to him, and on the rare occasions he did have a thought, Vinya would squelch it. It was her idea, or it wasn't allowed. Eventually, he'd given up. He let Vinya make all the decisions and only interacted with Farah when it was necessary.
He was a terrible father, and he knew it.
"Elinor," he said, "do you mind if I do this alone?"
She squeezed Bastian's hand. "Of course not. I completely understand."
Bastian smiled at Elinor, then followed Hazel into the former village hall. His heart pounded. Since the children had been rescued, he'd only spent small, stolen moments with Farah. Even after Vinya had died in the forest outside Hutton's Bridge, he'd left Farah's care to others. It was a wonder the girl even wanted to speak to him.
"Dada!" Farah ran into Bastian's outstretched arms. She snuggled into his shoulder.
He squeezed her tightly. Farah stepped back. He looked into her face, really looked at her for the first time in her three years, and noticed something he hadn't before. Farah had his green eyes and his strong cheekbones and chin. Though she hadn’t inherited his red hair, Farah looked almost exactly like him.
"Hazel said you wanted to ask me a question, baby girl. What is it?" Bastian tucked a lock of blond hair behind her ear.
"I'm not a baby." Farah pouted, her hands on her hips.
Bastian held back laughter. "I'm sorry. Big girl, what did you want to ask?"
Farah grinned, her smile melting his heart even more. "I want you to stay here. Want to go home." Her speech lisped slightly, her tongue darting in and out of a gap between her top teeth.
"We can't. Not yet. There are still bad guys out there to fight. I have to help drive them away so we can be safe." Bastian watched the light go out of her eyes. "But I promise I'll be back as soon as possible, okay?"
"Okay!" Farah's smile lit up again.
Bastian didn't have any guarantees he'd be back soon, or that they'd ever be safe. But he refused to take away her hope.
Farah slipped her little hand into his calloused palm. She leaned in close, her lips close to his ear. "Just make sure that mean old lady isn't there."
"Who?" Bastian asked, surprised.
"That old lady who used to live with Tressa," Farah whispered. "She scares me."
Bastian sat back on his heels, confused. "You mean Sophia?"
Farah nodded.
"Sweetie, she died many moons ago."
Farah shook her head, disagreeing. "She was there. With the red dragons. Mean old lady."
Bastian hugged Farah again. She must have had nightmares while being held captive. And she was so young and easily confused. He remembered having nightmares as a child, and sometimes they had seemed so real. Bastian kissed Farah’s brow. “I promise I won't let the mean old lady get you. Now, go play. I'm spending the night here, but I’m heading back to the