The Strong Little Girl
A small girl, no more than five years old, was running as fast as her thin little legs would let her. Behind her, two emaciated dogs chased her relentlessly, foam dripping from their jaws and their eyes fixed on her as if she were the last meal left in the world.
Her breathing came out ragged, trembling.
"Uff... uff..."
She was crossing the ruins of a dead city—broken windows, walls devoured by moss, silent shadows that seemed to watch her. In her hands, she clutched a nutrient capsule almost as big as her head. Even though her arms hurt and her fingers were going numb, she didn't let go. She knew that losing it would be like losing her life.
That capsule was the only thing that could keep her alive for another month.
Two days earlier, she had searched every corner of that neighborhood. Her little hands filled with dust and cuts as she moved stones and boards until she found an old drawer with several capsules. That was when the dogs had smelled her.
She had been living alone for two months. Before that, she shared that place with an old woman who had adopted her when her parents abandoned her, too hungry and scared to feed another mouth. Her grandmother taught her everything: how to read, how to sew her tattered clothes, how to find food in places nobody else looked.
But one day, the followers of the elves came. And everyone knew that whoever was taken by them never came back. The only reason they didn't take her too was because she hadn't awakened her mana yet, and they couldn't charge her quota.
She ran until she reached a crack between the walls of a collapsed building. She slipped through the gap without looking back. But the dogs didn't give up and slipped in after her.
Inside the building, the fallen walls and piles of rubble formed a maze. The girl dodged every obstacle without hesitation. She knew every corner by heart. With her heart pounding, she climbed up to a vent with a loose grate, crawled inside, and, trembling, pulled the grate back down. Her tiny fingers worked quickly, tying a wire her grandmother had prepared a long time ago.
The dogs crashed against the grate with a dull thud, trying to tear it away with their jaws. The metal vibrated under their strength. The girl pressed her lips together, breathing heavily as she clung to the capsule. She knew it wouldn't hold for long.
She crawled on all fours through the duct, her breath echoing inside like a whisper of fear. It was a dark, dusty labyrinth that only she knew. She turned into passages she had memorized since she was little and emerged through another grate. With an effort that made her arms ache, she put it back in place and ran to a large rock she pushed with all her strength until it blocked the exit.
Just then, she heard the crash of the first grate breaking and the furious barks echoing in the hallway. Even though the rock blocked the entrance, the girl was trembling. Her legs gave out and she collapsed sitting down, unable to take her eyes off the rock. She was afraid the dogs might move it and tear her apart.
The blows kept coming, but the rock held. The girl let out a shaky sigh, tears trembling on her lashes, though they didn't fall. She looked at the capsule with a hint of relief. She had survived. This time.
She turned toward the darkness. Barely a beam of light came in through a crack in the wall, illuminating her refuge: an improvised bed made of stones and dry grass, blankets mended again and again, a small table, and dozens of objects she had gathered with her grandmother.
Her grandmother always sewed her clothes, read her stories in a low voice, and promised that one day they would leave that place. When they took her away, she only left her a mana flask, enough to power the nutritional connector for a while. But now, that flask was almost empty.
"There's so little left..." the girl whispered, staring at the blue liquid that barely filled a quarter of the container. Fear twisted her stomach.
Carefully, she set the capsule on the table next to the connector and walked to the darkest corner of the room, where there was a metal hatch. It looked like another vent, but her grandmother always said it was different.
She took a chisel and a rusty hammer. Her little hands were trembling, but she didn't hesitate. She lifted the tool and struck the hinge hard, the noise filling the room.
That place was special. Her grandmother had told her that on the other side of the hatch was a passage that would save them. For five years, every day, her grandmother sat there, chisel in hand, trying to break the hinges. And now, only one remained.
The girl took a deep breath. Even though she was afraid, even though she felt alone, she knew what she had to do. Strike. Again and again. Just like her grandmother had taught her.
Hours passed. Until, suddenly, one last blow sounded different. The girl opened her eyes, her heart racing. She ran to the table and took the mana flask to illuminate the hatch.
"It broke..." she murmured, her voice a mix of joy and sadness. Her lips quivered. "Grandma... it broke."
She didn't cry. She couldn't. She knew she still wasn't finished.
She didn't hesitate. She ran back and forth across her shelter, gathering everything she knew would be useful. She carefully placed the nutrient capsule and the connector into a small cloth backpack, worn from time. Then she threw the hammer, the chisel, and several metal rods into the opening in case she needed them later. Finally, she took her mended blanket, the same one her grandmother had sewn with such care.
She stood for a moment hugging the fabric, as if she could still smell her perfume. Then she took a deep breath and hung from the hatch, slowly lowering herself while a rope tied around her waist kept her safe. The rope was secured to a metal bar—another of those little precautions her grandmother had taught her to prepare.
As she descended, everything grew even darker. She held the mana flask against her chest as if it were her last friend in the world. Her steps echoed against the metal as she climbed down, rung by rung, her backpack dangling from one shoulder.
She walked for what felt like an eternity. Maybe an hour, maybe longer. Her legs hurt so much she felt she might collapse. At last, when she thought she couldn't take another step, she fell to her knees in the darkness. There, sitting down, she used the mana flask as a lantern and rested for a while, holding back her tears.
But her heart insisted on going on. When she managed to regain a bit of strength, she got up and kept walking.
At the end of the hallway, she found a metal door so thick its very presence seemed to tell her she shouldn't go any further. She stood very still, feeling her hands tremble. Her eyes filled with tears.
"Grandma…" she whispered, her voice breaking to a thin thread. She knew that with her little hammer and chisel, it would be almost impossible to break through that door. Exhaustion, fear, and sadness all mixed together, and her knees gave out. She sank onto the cold floor and, for the first time in days, began to cry. She cried for everything: for her grandmother who would never return, for the hunger, for the fear of always being alone.
But then a metallic noise startled her. The door shuddered, and a panel next to the frame lit up with a soft glow. With a deep click, the hatch began to open slowly.
The girl stared, her heart pounding. She straightened up slowly, cautiously.
"Hello…?" she asked in a small voice, barely a whisper. "Is someone there…?"
No one answered. Only silence, and a darkness that stretched out like an ocean. She swallowed hard, clutched the flask to her chest, and took a step forward.
As she crossed the threshold, her eyes widened in amazement. There, in the distance, glowed a blue light. And in her little heart, a spark of curiosity was kindled. She ran toward the light, her bare feet echoing against the metal floor.
When she turned a corner, she stopped dead. Her mouth fell open in surprise.
Before her rose several enormous computers, surrounded by dozens of mana flasks. They were different from the one she carried: bigger, brighter, almost magical. Her grandmother only brought them out when it was time to pay tribute to the elves. And now, here, there were at least fifteen of them gathered together. The light they emitted filled the room and revealed piles of strange devices the girl didn't understand.
She stepped inside, her heart beating fast. For a moment, she thought about looking for someone—maybe whoever had opened the door. But at the same time, a cold fear whispered that perhaps this was a place where bad people came.
Even so, she moved forward slowly. She found a side door and pushed it open carefully. Inside, everything was in complete darkness. She turned on her little flask and began walking through the corridors.
It looked like an abandoned place. There were no voices, no footsteps, no moving shadows. She checked six rooms: one full of computers, another lined with many beds, another with a large table and boards covered in drawings. One more was filled with machines she didn't recognize, and one held an enormous bathroom.
The last door she opened with trembling hands.
It was a storeroom.
She stood still. Her heart gave a jolt.
Hundreds of boxes stacked up, all the same, all marked with the symbol she knew. Each box held nutrient capsules—the same ones she had almost died for so many times.
For the first time, the tears spilling from her eyes weren't from fear or sadness. They were from relief.
"Food…" she whispered in a tiny voice, a sob escaping as her chest ached with so many feelings. At last, she wouldn't have to risk her life every day. At last… she could be safe.
The girl walked to the nearest pile and placed her hand on a box, as if to check that it was real. Then she sank to the floor, hugging the closest capsule, and cried.
She cried with happiness. She cried for everything she had been through. And when she had no tears left, she remembered her grandmother's words: You have to be a strong little girl.
She wiped her face with the back of her hand and took a deep breath.
"Grandma… now I can really be strong," she said softly.
With small but determined hands, she put on the connector and activated the mana flask. The liquid ran through the tubes that joined her skin without pain. As she felt the warmth returning some energy to her body, she walked through her new refuge.
She found a closet full of white clothes. She took an adult shirt that reached all the way to her ankles and fastened it at her waist with a belt. The fabric covered her so completely it looked like a giant dress. She looked down at her belly bulging with the capsule and let out a shy little giggle.
Then she remembered the bathroom. She ran there with a thread of hope. When she turned the faucet, clean water gushed out like a gift fallen from the sky.
"It's clean…" she murmured, surprised.
There was a huge tank connected by a pipe that surely collected rainwater. In that broken city, pure water was a miracle.
She wet a piece of cloth and began to clean herself carefully, just as her grandmother had taught her. Then she dressed in clean clothes and put the nutritional connector back on.
Now she was clean. She had food, water, and a place where hungry dogs and cruel people couldn't find her.
She stood for a moment, staring at the room full of capsules.
"Why didn't we find this place sooner…?" she asked the silence as more soft tears fell again. But she wiped them away resolutely.
"Grandma said I had to be a strong little girl…" she repeated to herself.
She walked to the room with the beds and decided she would sleep there, under the light of one of the brightest flasks. She went to the computer room, ignoring the machines she didn't understand, and climbed onto a chair to reach a flask. But as she stretched out her hand, she accidentally pressed a button.
The screen came to life with a flash that made her jump in fright.
She knew how to read—her grandmother had taught her. Words appeared on the screen:
[Research Center 99]
[Enter password]
The girl tilted her head, not understanding. But then, the screen flickered and seemed to fragment before opening on its own. A new message glowed before her eyes:
[Do you want to enter Drunai? If you press YES, you will have something wonderful that will change your life.]
[YES]
The girl stared at the message without fully understanding. But the blue light was so beautiful, so promising, that she reached out a trembling finger toward the button.
Maybe, she thought, this place was a gift too.