The snow was falling in crystalline sheets across the northern quadrant of Frost Hollow Station, where the twin moons of Kelvari Prime hung low in the evening sky like a pair of ancient sentinels watching over the colony below. The settlement had been established 43 years ago by the first wave of human pioneers who had braved the 8-month journey from Earth to this distant world.

 And in that time it had grown from a handful of pre-fabricated structures into a sprawling township of interconnected habitats, commerce districts, and industrial zones. Tonight, the weather systems that swept down from the polar regions had blanketed everything in a thick layer of white, transforming the utilitarian architecture into something almost magical, like a scene from one of those old Christmas postcards that the older colonists still kept in their quarters as reminders of a world most of their children had never seen. Tobias Reinhold stood outside the

entrance to mechanical bay 7, his breath forming small clouds that dissipated quickly in the frigid air. He was 41 years old, with dark brown hair that he kept trimmed short on the sides, and a beard that had grown perhaps a bit too full over the past few weeks of overtime shifts.

 His heavy work jacket was a faded brown color lined with synthetic fur around the collar that did an admirable job of keeping the cold at bay. Beneath it, he wore the standard utility vest that all senior mechanics were issued. The one with the reinforced chest plating and the twin status indicators that glowed a soft blue near his sternum.

 His pants were dark, practical things with armored knee panels and enough pockets to carry the dozen small tools he might need at any given moment. In his right hand he held a diagnostic flashlight, its beam cutting a pale line through the gathering darkness. Another long day, another in an endless succession of them. Tobias was the chief technical officer for the western agricultural sector which meant that everything from the hydroponic processes to the atmospheric scrubbers to the transport vehicles fell under his purview.

 It was good work, honest work, the kind that let a man fall into bed at night knowing he had contributed something tangible to the survival of his community. But lately, standing alone in moments like this one, watching the snow fall and the moons rise and the world continue its slow rotation toward another dawn.

Tobias found himself wondering if honest work was enough. If contribution was the same thing as connection, if success in one’s profession could ever compensate for the emptiness that seemed to grow a little larger with each passing year. His transport pod was running late, caught somewhere in the traffic that always clogged the main conduits during shift change.

 He could have waited inside where it was warm and the coffee dispensers actually worked, but something had drawn him out here instead. Maybe it was the snow. Maybe it was the peculiar quality of light that occurred when both moons were visible at once. Or maybe it was simply that he needed to feel the cold on his face, needed some external sensation to remind him that he was still capable of feeling anything at all. That was when he noticed her.

 She was standing near the edge of the pathway that connected mechanical bay 7 to the civilian transit hub, a small figure almost lost against the backdrop of snowladen evergreens that the colony’s terraforming department had planted decades ago to provide psychological comfort to the human residence.

 At first glance, he might have mistaken her for a human child, perhaps 6 or seven years old, bundled against the cold and waiting for a parent who had stepped away momentarily. But the second glance revealed the truth that the first had missed. Her skin was a soft lavender color, like the twilight sky after the first sun had set, but before the second had fully risen.

 Her hair was a lighter shade of the same hue, almost silver in certain lights, and it fell in loose waves around a face that was somehow both alien and achingly familiar. Two small pointed ears emerged from beneath that hair, their inner surfaces, a delicate pink that reminded Tobias of the shells he had collected on beaches back on Earth, back before he had been old enough to understand that those beaches would one day be memories and nothing more.

 Behind her, partially visible beneath a hooded cloak of gray and brown fabric, a pair of small wings extended perhaps half a meter in each direction. The wings were a darker color than her skin, more orange than purple, and the membranes between the delicate bones caught the light from the station’s exterior lamps, like stained glass windows in some ancient cathedral.

 A tail emerged from beneath her cloak as well, slender and purple, with a pointed tip that twitched occasionally in what Tobias recognized as a sign of anxiety among her species. She was Kelvari, one of the indigenous people of this world, the race that humanity had encountered upon their arrival more than four decades ago.

 The first contact had been tense, as such things often are, when two species meet for the first time, and neither is certain whether the other intends friendship or conquest. But the Kelvari had proven to be a peaceful people, curious and intelligent, and over the years a kind of uneasy coexistence had developed between them and the human settlers.

Some Kelvari lived in the colony now, working alongside humans in various capacities. Others maintained their traditional settlements in the wilderness areas that the colonists had agreed not to develop. It was not a perfect arrangement, but it was a functional one, and most people on both sides had learned to see past the obvious differences to the common ground that lay beneath.

 But this was a child, a young girl alone in the snow with an expression on her face that transcended all barriers of species and culture and evolutionary history. It was the expression of someone who was lost, someone who was frightened, someone who needed help and did not know where to find it. Tobias approached slowly, not wanting to startle her.

 The Kelvari had excellent hearing, better than humans by a considerable margin, and he knew that she had probably detected his approach long before he had consciously decided to make it. He lowered himself into a crouch when he was still a few meters away, bringing his eyes closer to her level, trying to make himself seem smaller and less threatening. “Excuse me,” he said, keeping his voice gentle.

“Are you all right? Are you waiting for someone? The little girl turned to face him fully, and Tobias saw that her eyes were a shade of violet that seemed to contain depths far greater than a child her age should possess. They were wet, those eyes, glistening with tears that had not quite fallen, and her cheeks were flushed a deeper purple from the cold.

 Snowflakes had settled in her silver lavender hair, like tiny stars caught in a nebula. Sir, she said, and her voice trembled with an emotion that needed no translation. My mama dragon did not return to the den last night. The words hit Tobias with an almost physical impact. He was familiar enough with Kelvari culture to understand what she was saying.

 Among her people, the family unit was referred to as a den, and the maternal parent was honored with the title of Mama Dragon, a designation that carried profound significance in their society. For this child to be standing here alone, telling a human stranger that her mother had not come home meant that something was seriously wrong. “What is your name, sweetheart?” he asked, keeping his voice calm even as his mind began racing through possibilities and contingencies. Primrose, she answered.

 Primrose Wind Feather. Hello, Primrose. My name is Tobias. Can you tell me what happened? When did you last see your mother? Primrose’s lower lip trembled, a gesture so universally childlike that it momentarily blurred the distinctions between their species. Yesterday morning before the learning center, she said she would be home by evening meal, but she never came.

Neighbor Hworth watched me through the night. She said, “Mama probably just got delayed at her work, but Mama always calls, always, even when she has to work late. She always sends a message to tell me she loves me.” Tobias felt his chest tighten. This child had spent an entire night and day not knowing where her mother was, clinging to the hope that there was some innocent explanation while fearing that there was not.

 And yet she had still gone to school, still followed the routine that had been established for her, because that was what she had been told to do. The trust implicit in that obedience, the vulnerability of it was almost more than he could bear. Primrose, did neighbor Hworth contact the security officers or try to find out where your mother might be? The little girl shook her head, her wings rustling slightly beneath her cloak.

 She said she tried calling mama’s work, but no one answered. She said, “Sometimes grown-ups have emergencies and forget to send messages. But I know my mama would not forget me. Something must have happened. something bad. The conviction in her voice, the absolute certainty that her mother would never willingly abandon her, spoke to a bond that Tobias found himself envying.

His own childhood had been comfortable in material terms, but sparse in emotional ones. His parents had been pioneers, focused on establishing themselves in this new world, too busy building a future to invest much energy in the present.

 He had grown up feeling more like a project than a person, something to be managed rather than cherished. Primrose, what kind of work does your mother do? She is a healer. She works at the medical center in the Eastern District. She helps people get better when they are sick or injured. Primrose’s expression softened slightly as she spoke about her mother. Pride mixing with fear in equal measure.

She says that healing is the most important work there is because every life matters, human or Kelvari or anyone else. Your mother sounds like a remarkable person. She is the best mama dragon in all the worlds. She reads me stories every night and she makes the best spiced grains and she always knows how to make me feel better when I am sad.

 Tobias had to look away for a moment, pretending to check something on his diagnostic tool while he gathered himself. When he spoke again, his voice was steady, but something had shifted in his chest, some barrier beginning to crack. Primrose, what about your father? Is he at home? The little girl’s wings drooped slightly, a Celvari expression of sorrow that he had learned to recognize over the years.

Papa passed into the great sleep when I was very small. I do not remember him, but Mama says he was brave. He was a rescue pilot. He died helping others. Of course he did, Tobias thought. This small family had already endured more loss than any family should have to bear. And now the mother was missing.

 The universe could be unbearably cruel sometimes, visiting tragedy upon those who least deserved it while allowing others to skate through life untouched. Primrose, when was the last time you actually saw your mother? Not a message, but saw her in person. Yesterday morning, before I went to the learning center, she hugged me at the door and told me to be good.

 She said she would make my favorite dinner when she got home. Primrose’s voice cracked. She was wearing her healer’s uniform, the blue one with the silver marks on the shoulders. And neighbor Hworth, she has been taking care of you since then. Yes, she is kind, but she had to go to her own work today. She told me to go to the learning center like normal. She said everything would be fine, but it is not fine.

 I waited all day and Mamar still has not come home and no one will tell me anything. Tobias straightened up and pulled out his communication device. Primrose, I’m going to help you find your mother. But first, we need to make sure you are safe and warm. It is very cold out here and you should not be wandering around alone.

 Where were you trying to go just now? I was going to walk home to see if Mama was there, but I am not sure I remember the way. We only moved to this district two months ago, and all the pathways look the same in the snow. The thought of this small child trying to navigate the colony alone in a snowstorm, searching for a mother who might be anywhere, was more than Tobias could accept. He made a decision.

 The kind of decision that he had not made in far too long. The kind that prioritized another person’s needs over his own schedule and convenience. Primrose, I would like to help you. Would it be all right if I came with you? We can go to your home together and see if your mother is there.

 And if she is not, we will figure out where she is. Does that sound acceptable to you? The little Kelvari girl studied his face with an intensity that seemed almost adult in its scrutiny. Her violet eyes moved across his features, searching for something that would either confirm or deny her instincts. Finally, she nodded. Yes, you seem kind.

You have good eyes. Mama says you can tell if someone is trustworthy by their eyes. She paused, her tail twitching once. Also, you did not look at my wings like they were strange. Most humans look at my wings like they are strange. Your wings are beautiful, Tobias said and meant it.

 They remind me of the stained glass windows in the cathedral my grandmother used to take me to back on Earth. I always thought those windows were the most beautiful things in the world. Primrose’s face brightened slightly, the first hint of something other than fear and worry.

 Mama says our wings are gifts from our ancestors who flew between the stars before they chose to make Kelvari Prime their home. Your mother sounds like a wise woman. Come on, let us get you somewhere warm.” Tobias sent a quick message to the transit system, cancelling his pod request, and then gently took Primrose’s hand. It was small in his and cool even through her mittens, the Kelvari body temperature running several degrees lower than human normal.

 But there was something in the way she gripped his fingers, a trust that she was extending despite her fear, that made Tobias feel more connected to another living being than he had felt in years. They began walking through the falling snow and Primrose directed him toward the residential sector where she and her mother lived.

 It was about eight blocks away through a part of the colony that Tobias did not often have reason to visit. As they walked, he asked gentle questions, trying to piece together what had happened, while also keeping the child’s mind occupied with something other than her fear. Tell me more about your mother, Primrose. What is her name? Serendal. Serendal Wind Feather. She chose our family name when she and Papa were bonded.

 Wind Feather because she said our family would always have the wind beneath our wings, even when times were difficult. That is a lovely name and a lovely sentiment. Mamar is the best. She works very hard at the medical center. She says that humans and Kelvari are not so different when they are hurting. That pain is the same in any language.

 She helps everyone no matter where they come from. It sounds like she has a very important job. She does, but she always makes time for me. Even when she’s tired, she always reads me a story before sleep. We are reading a book about a young dragon who goes on adventures across different worlds. Mama does all the voices.

 Primrose’s expression flickered between sadness and fond remembrance. Last night, Neighbor Hworth tried to read to me, but she does not know how to do the voices. Tobias felt a lump forming in his throat. I’m sure your mother will be able to read to you again soon. Do you really think so? I really do, but I need to ask you some more questions. All right. It will help us figure out where she might be. Primrose nodded solemnly.

I will tell you everything I know. Good. Now, you said your mother works at the medical center in the Eastern District. Do you know which department? The emergency healing ward. She helps people who are very sick or very hurt. She says it is hard work, but she cannot imagine doing anything else. And she was supposed to work yesterday, a regular shift. Yes.

 She left early in the morning before the first sun was fully up. She kissed me goodbye and said she would be home by evening meal. Did she seem different that morning, worried about anything, sick at all? Primrose thought about this for a moment, her brow furrowing in concentration. She did say she was feeling tired.

 She said she had not been sleeping well, but she said lots of people at the medical center were tired because there has been a lot of sickness going around. The cold season always makes people sick, she said. Tobias filed this information away. A healer who had been working overtime, not sleeping well, possibly exposed to whatever illness was circulating through the colony.

 Several concerning possibilities began to form in his mind. They turned onto Primrose’s Street, a row of modest residential units that the colony had built specifically to accommodate mixed species families. The buildings were designed with higher ceilings and wider doorways than standard human construction, features that made them more comfortable for species like the Kelvari, who required space for wings and tails. Primrose led him to a unit about halfway down the block.

 its exterior painted a cheerful yellow that stood out against the white of the snow. “This is our home,” Primrose said, her voice suddenly smaller. “The door with the blue decoration. Mama put that up when we first moved in. She said it would help us remember which one was ours.

” Tobias looked at the decoration, a simple pattern of interlocking circles in various shades of blue that he recognized as a traditional Kelvari symbol representing family and belonging. It was slightly faded from exposure to the elements, but it had clearly been placed with care and intention. That is a beautiful decoration. Shall we go inside and see if your mother is home? Primrose reached into a pocket of her cloak and produced a key on a cord that she wore around her neck. Mama gave me this for emergencies.

She said I should never go into the home alone if she is not there. But this is an emergency, correct? Yes, sweetheart. This is definitely an emergency. Primrose unlocked the door and they stepped inside. The residence was small but meticulously maintained with furniture that had clearly been chosen for function over fashion, but arranged with an eye toward comfort and warmth.

 Drawings were attached to the refrigeration unit in the kitchen area. Colorful images of flying creatures and planets and happy faces that could only be the work of a child. A vase on the table held fresh flowers, their petals a deep purple that matched neither human nor Kelvari aesthetics, but somehow perfectly bridged the gap between both.

 Photographs covered nearly every available surface, showing a beautiful Kelvari woman with lavender skin and silver hair holding a smaller version of primrose at various ages. In some of the older photographs, a Kelvari male with darker coloring stood beside them, his smile bright and his posture proud.

 Serendel Wind Feather and her family, Tobias realized, the life they had built together before tragedy had reduced their number by one. “Mama,” Primrose called out, her voice echoing through the empty rooms. “Mama, are you home?” Silence. The residents had that particular stillness that comes from a place where no one has been for hours, perhaps longer.

 The air was cool, the heating system apparently set to conservation mode in the absence of occupants. Primrose’s face crumpled. The last vestigages of hope giving way to fear. She is not here. She is not here, Mr. Tobias. Where is my mama? Where is she? Tobias knelt down and pulled the little girl into a gentle embrace as she began to cry.

 Her small body shook against him, her wings trembling beneath her cloak, and he could feel the dampness of her tears soaking through his jacket. He held her carefully, mindful of her wings, and let her cry until the first wave of grief had passed. “It is going to be all right, Primrose,” he said softly. “We are going to find her. I promise. But first, let me make some calls.

 He stood and pulled out his communication device, beginning with the medical center in the Eastern District. He explained the situation as clearly and concisely as he could, describing Serindle Wind Feather and the circumstances of her disappearance.

 The first person he spoke with transferred him to someone else who transferred him to someone else who finally connected him with an administrator who seemed to have some actual authority. “Mr. Reinhalt,” the administrator said, her voice carrying the weary efficiency of someone who had fielded too many difficult calls in too short a time. “I can confirm that Serendel Winfather is one of our staff healers.

 She came in for her shift yesterday morning as scheduled. And Tobias pressed, did she complete her shift? Did she leave? There was a pause, the sound of someone consulting records. According to our logs, Hila Wind Feather collapsed during her midday meal break. She had been running a high fever and was severely dehydrated.

 She has been admitted as a patient here at the center. Relief flooded through Tobias, so intense that he had to steady himself against the kitchen counter. She is there at the medical center. Is she conscious? Can she have visitors? She is stable, though she has been quite ill. Some kind of viral infection that has been going around, made worse by exhaustion and overwork.

 She has been asking about her daughter repeatedly, becoming quite agitated. We have been trying to contact her emergency contacts, but we have not been able to reach anyone. Her emergency contact is a neighbor, a mistress Hworth. She’s been at work all day. That would explain it. We have left several messages, but no one has responded.

 Tobias looked at Primrose, who was watching him with wide, frightened eyes, clearly trying to understand what he was being told. I am bringing her daughter to see her now. Primrose Wind Feather, please let Heila Wind Feather know that her daughter is safe and on her way. I will relay the message immediately. And Mr. Reinhold, thank you. Heila Wind Feather has been beside herself with worry, knowing that someone found her daughter will be the best medicine we could give her. Tobias ended the call and knelt back down to Primrose’s level.

Primrose, I found your mother. She’s at the medical center where she works. She got sick yesterday and had to stay there so the healers could help her get better, but she is going to be all right, and she has been very worried about you, just like you have been worried about her.” Primrose’s face transformed, the fear and grief giving way to an expression of such pure relief that it made Tobias’s heart ache. “She is all right, really.

 Can we go see her? Can we go right now? Absolutely. Right now. Tobias arranged for a transport pod and within 15 minutes they were settled into the warm interior of a vehicle speeding through the snowy streets toward the eastern medical district. Primrose sat pressed against the window, her violet eyes fixed on the passing buildings, her small hands clutching a stuffed toy that she had grabbed from her room before leaving.

 It was a fabric dragon, wellworn and obviously beloved, and she held it against her chest as if it were a talisman against all the fears that still lurked at the edges of her mind. “Is Mama really going to be all right?” she asked for the third time. And Tobias did not mind the repetition. A child needed reassurance, especially after what she had been through.

 She really is. She is just sick, so she will probably look tired. But she is getting the care she needs, and the healers say she is stable. That means she is going to recover. I should have known she was at the medical center. I should have thought of that. Primrose, you are 6 years old. You are not supposed to have to figure these things out on your own. That is what grown-ups are for.

She looked at him with an expression that seemed to see straight through to his core. Are you a good grown-up, Mr. Tobias? The question asked with such innocent directness made him pause. Was he a good grown-up? He ran a successful department. He contributed to the colony’s infrastructure.

 He showed up for work on time and did his job competently. But when was the last time he had actually stopped to help someone the way he was helping Primrose tonight? When was the last time he had allowed himself to connect with another living being to step outside the safe boundaries of professional responsibility and engage with the messy complicated reality of human or in this case Kelvari need? I’m trying to be, he said honestly. Sometimes I forget how.

Primrose seemed to accept this answer. She reached over and placed her small hand in his, and Tobias felt something crack open inside him, some wall he had built without even realizing he was building it. “Mama says that trying is the most important part,” Primrose offered. “She says that everyone makes mistakes, but the good people are the ones who keep trying to be better.

Your mother is a very wise person, Primrose. I know she is the best mama dragon in all the worlds. They arrived at the medical center, a large complex of interconnected buildings that served as the primary health care facility for the entire eastern district. Tobias led Primrose through the entrance and navigated the maze of corridors until they reached the room number that the administrator had provided.

 The door was partially open and through the gap Tobias could see a Kelvari woman lying in a bed surrounded by monitoring equipment. Serendal wind feather was beautiful even in illness. Her lavender skin was paler than it should have been, and there were shadows beneath her violet eyes that spoke of exhaustion and worry. But when she saw Primrose standing in the doorway, her entire being seemed to ignite from within. Primrose.

Oh, my precious one. Primrose. Mama. Primrose ran to the bed, and Tobias had to help her climb up safely because she was trying to move faster than her small body could manage. Zarendal wrapped her arms around her daughter, careful of the intravenous line in her arm, and both of them were crying, and Tobias found himself having to look away because the rawness of their reunion was almost too intimate to witness. Baby, I’m so sorry, Serendel was saying, her voice rough with emotion.

 I am so sorry I could not call you. I tried, but I was so sick and I passed out. And when I woke up, I was here, and no one could reach Hworth, and I did not know if you knew where I was. I kept trying to get up to go home to you, but the healers would not let me leave. It is all right, Mama. I was scared, but Mr. Tobias helped me. He found you.

 Serendal looked up then, noticing Tobias for the first time. Their eyes met, and he saw confusion, gratitude, and the mother’s protective instinct all waring in her expression. Who are you? She asked, her arm tightening around Primrose. Tobias stepped forward. Tobias Reinhold, ma’am.

 I found Primrose outside my workplace about an hour ago. She told me you had not come home and I could not just leave her there. I hoped that was the right thing to do. Sarendal’s eyes filled with fresh tears. You helped her. You brought her here. Anyone would have done the same. No, Sarendal said firmly. Anyone would not have. Most people would have walked right past or maybe contacted security and kept moving. You stopped.

You took the time to actually help her. She pulled Primrose closer, her wings rustling weakly beneath the hospital gown. Thank you. I do not know how to thank you enough. No thanks necessary, ma’am. I’m just glad you are all right. Primrose was very worried about you. I was so worried about her.

 I kept trying to get up, to leave, to get home to her, but the healer said I had pneumonia, that I needed medication and rest. Serendal looked down at her daughter. Hetssworth was supposed to be watching you, boo. She did watch me last night, Primrose explained. But she had to go to work today, so she told me to go to the learning center.

 I went, but I was so scared, Mama. So after the learning center finished, I tried to walk home, but I got a little lost, and that is when Mr. Tobias found me. Serendal closed her eyes, and Tobias could see her imagining all the terrible things that could have happened to her daughter. wandering the colony alone. When she opened her eyes again, she looked at Tobias with an intensity that made him feel like she was seeing straight through to his core.

 “You saved her,” Sarendal said simply. “You saved my daughter.” “I just did what anyone with a conscience would do, but most people do not have a conscience anymore. Not really. Not enough to stop, to get involved, to actually help.” Serendel’s voice was getting stronger now, animated by emotion. Do you have children, Mr. Reinhalt? No. No, I do not.

 Then you cannot fully understand what you did for me tonight. You cannot know what it means to be lying here helpless, terrified for your child, and then to have that child appear safe and sound because a stranger chose to be kind. She was crying again, tears tracing silver lines down her lavender cheeks. Thank you. Thank you so much.

 Tobias felt his own eyes burning. You are very welcome. A healer appeared in the doorway then, a human woman in her 50s with kind eyes and an air of professional calm. Healer Wind Feather, I see your daughter has arrived. Wonderful news. Can she stay? Serendel asked, a note of desperation in her voice.

 Please, just for tonight, I cannot bear to be separated from her again. The healer looked uncertain. Well, it is not exactly standard procedure. I will arrange it, Tobias heard himself say. Whatever is required, whatever accommodations need to be made. Primrose stays with her mother tonight.

 The healer looked at him clearly taking in his workclo and the air of authority he carried despite his exhaustion. “Are you family?” “He is the man who brought my daughter to me,” Serendal said firmly. “That makes him family as far as I am concerned.” The healer smiled. “All right then, I will see about getting a cot brought in.” After she left, Serendal looked at Tobias again. You do not have to do that. Arrange things.

 I mean, you have already done so much. I want to. Please let me help. Serendel studied him for a long moment. Why? And please do not say it is what anyone would do because we have established that it is not. Why are you really doing this? Tobias thought about how to answer.

 He could give her something easy, something superficial, the kind of response that would allow him to maintain his emotional distance and walk away unchanged. But looking at this woman and her daughter, this small family that had already weathered so much loss and hardship, he found himself wanting to be honest. “Because I spent the last 15 years building a career,” he said slowly.

 And somewhere along the way, I forgot to build a life. I forgot what actually matters. I buried myself in work because work was safe because work did not require me to feel anything or risk anything or connect with anyone. And then your daughter stood in the snow outside my workplace and told me her mother was missing. And I remembered. Serendal’s expression softened.

Remembered what? That we are here to help each other. that success without compassion is just emptiness wearing an expensive jacket. That a life without connection is not really a life at all. He paused, surprised by how much he was revealing to someone he had met less than 2 hours ago.

 Primrose gave me a gift tonight, even if she does not realize it. She reminded me that I am capable of more than I have been allowing myself to be. Primrose, who’d been listening quietly, looked up at Tobias. “You are a good grown-up,” she said with certainty. “I was right about your eyes.” Tobias had to laugh even as he wiped at his own eyes. “Thank you, Primrose.

 That means more than you know.” He stayed for another hour until Primrose had fallen asleep, curled against her mother on the medical bed, her stuffed dragon tucked under her chin. Serendal drifted off as well, one arm protectively around her daughter. Both of them finally at peace.

 Tobias spoke quietly with the healer on duty, making arrangements for the cot and ensuring that Serendel’s medical care would continue without interruption. He left his contact information with instructions to call him if Serendel or Primrose needed anything at all. As he finally left the medical center and stepped out into the snowy night, Tobias felt different somehow, lighter, more present, more connected to the world around him.

 The twin moons had risen higher in the sky, casting their pale light across the snow-covered landscape, and the colony looked beautiful in a way he had forgotten to notice. He pulled out his communication device and called his second in command, a reliable young engineer named Dorsy, who could be trusted to handle things in his absence. Dorsy, I need you to clear my schedule for tomorrow morning. I have something I need to do.

Sir, it is nearly 10 at night. Is everything all right? Everything is fine. Better than it has been in years, actually. But I want to set up a meeting with the colony’s social services department.

 I want to create a program, something that helps single parents in crisis, emergency child care, financial assistance, whatever they need. The colony has resources that are not being used as effectively as they could be. There was a pause. Sir, that is a significant undertaking. Not that I am objecting, but it is not exactly in our department’s mandate. No, it is not. But maybe our mandate needs to expand.

 Maybe we have been so focused on keeping the machines running that we forgot the machines are supposed to serve the people, not the other way around. I see. Another pause. Well, I think that sounds like an excellent idea, sir. I will have the meeting arranged by morning. Thank you, Dorsey. And Dorsey, take some time off soon. Visit your family. Tell them you love them.

 Life is too short and too unpredictable to keep putting those things off. I thank you, sir. I will do that. Tobias ended the call and began walking. He was not ready to go home yet, not ready to return to the empty quarters that had seemed perfectly adequate this morning, but now felt like they might be missing something essential.

 He wanted to feel the snow on his face and the cold air in his lungs. He wanted to exist in this moment, in this strange and wonderful night that had started like every other night and ended up changing everything. He thought about Serendel Wind Feather, working herself sick while trying to raise a daughter alone, never complaining, never asking for help she did not absolutely need.

 He thought about Primrose, so brave and trusting even in the face of fear, willing to reach out to a stranger because her mother had taught her that some people could be trusted, that kindness still existed in the universe. He thought about all the other Serendals and primroes out there struggling quietly, hoping that someone would notice, that someone would care.

 And he thought about the man he had been just a few hours ago, walking out of his workplace, focused on schedules and maintenance logs, and the endless details of keeping a colonial infrastructure running, almost too preoccupied to notice a little dragon girl standing in the snow. That man felt like a stranger now, someone he had been pretending to be for so long that he had almost forgotten it was pretense, someone who had built walls around himself so carefully and so thoroughly that he had not even noticed when those walls had become a prison.

Primrose had given him a key, though a small lavender hand reaching out in trust, a pair of violet eyes seeing something in him that he had forgotten was there. a simple statement of need that had somehow cracked through all his defenses. My mama dragon did not return to the den last night. Such a small thing really.

 A child in distress, a mother who was sick, a simple problem with a relatively simple solution. And yet it had changed everything. It had reminded him that he was more than his job, more than his title, more than the sum of his accomplishments and responsibilities. He was a person, a person capable of connection and compassion and love if he would just allow himself to be.

 Tobias looked up at the twin moons, watching the snow fall around him and smiled for what felt like the first time in years. Tomorrow he would visit Serendal and Primrose at the medical center. He would bring something for the little girl, maybe a book of adventure stories that he could read to her while her mother rested. He would check on Serendle’s recovery and make sure she had everything she needed.

 He would follow up on his program idea, start putting together a real proposal that could actually help families like theirs. But tonight, he would walk. He would let the snow fall on his face and the cold seep into his bones and the silence of the winter night remind him that he was alive, that he was here, that he still had time to become the person he wanted to be.

 The colony continued its slow rotation beneath the twin moons, and somewhere in the eastern medical district, a small Kelvari girl slept peacefully in her mother’s arms, dreaming of dragons and stars, and the kind stranger who had helped her find her way home. And Tobias Reinhold walked on through the snow. No longer lost, no longer empty, no longer alone. Just a man in a winter coat taking the first steps of a journey he should have started years ago.

 Grateful beyond words for a little dragon girl who had reminded him what it meant to be human. In the days that followed, Tobias found himself visiting the medical center whenever his schedule allowed. At first, his visits were brief, just quick check-ins to ensure that Serendal was recovering properly, and that Primrose was not experiencing any lasting effects from her ordeal.

 But gradually, the visits grew longer, the conversations deeper, the connections stronger. Serendal was discharged after 5 days, still weak, but well enough to return home with strict instructions to rest and recover. Tobias helped arrange transportation and made sure their residence was stocked with food and supplies.

 He even managed to track down neighbor Hzworth, who was mortified to learn what had happened and apologized profusely for not being more vigilant. Tobias assured her that no blame attached to her actions, that sometimes circumstances conspired against even the best intentions, but he also quietly ensured that alternative emergency contacts were established for the Windfeather family.

 His program proposal moved forward faster than he had expected. It turned out that several other colony administrators had been thinking along similar lines, and Tobias’s initiative provided the catalyst needed to bring those scattered thoughts into focused action. Within 2 weeks, the Colony Council had approved funding for a pilot program that would provide emergency child care and family support services to single parents and at risk families.

 Tobias was asked to serve on the oversight committee, a responsibility he accepted with genuine enthusiasm. But the most significant change was internal, invisible to anyone who did not know where to look. Tobias found himself noticing things he had overlooked before. the young technician in his department who always seemed tired and anxious, whom he discovered was caring for an aging parent while trying to maintain a demanding job.

 The elderly human woman who cleaned the offices after hours, who had been working the same thankless position for 20 years without a single raise or word of recognition. the Kelvari maintenance worker who had revolutionary ideas about improving the atmospheric systems but had never been given the opportunity to present them. Tobias started listening, started paying attention, started using his position and influence to help where he could and advocate where he could not.

 It was not always easy and it was not always successful, but it felt right in a way that his previous approach to leadership never had. About a month after that snowy night, Tobias received a message from Serendal inviting him to dinner at their residence.

 Primrose had been asking about him, she explained, and Serendal wanted to properly thank him for everything he had done. He arrived at the yellow residence with the blue decoration, feeling more nervous than he had felt in years. He had brought a bottle of imported fruit wine and a set of illustrated story books for Primrose.

 Stories about adventures across different worlds that he thought she might enjoy. But standing outside the door, he found himself suddenly uncertain, worried that he was overstepping some boundary he did not fully understand. The door opened before he could ring the bell, and Primrose stood there, her face a light with joy. Mr. Tobias, you came. Mama said you were coming, but I was afraid you might forget.

 I would never forget a promise to you, Primrose. The little girl grabbed his hand and pulled him inside, chattering excitedly about everything that had happened since he had last seen her. Her mother was much better, almost completely recovered.

 She had gone back to the learning center and told everyone about the kind human who had helped her find her mama dragon. Her teacher had said it was a good example of how humans and Kelvari could work together to help each other. Serendal appeared from the kitchen area and Tobias felt his breath catch. She was beautiful in a way that had nothing to do with species or aesthetics and everything to do with the warmth in her eyes and the genuine smile on her face. She was wearing a simple dress in shades of blue that complimented her lavender skin.

 and her silver hair was pulled back to reveal the delicate curve of her ears. “Tobias, thank you for coming.” “Thank you for inviting me,” I brought wine and some books for Primrose. “Books!” Primrose exclaimed immediately abandoning her position as hostess to investigate the gift. “Adventure stories? Mama? Look, there are pictures of spaceships and everything.” Serendal laughed and the sound was like music.

 What do we say, little one? Thank you, Mr. Tobias. These are wonderful. You are very welcome. The dinner that followed was simple but delicious. A traditional Kelvari dish that Serendal had learned to make from her own mother and adapted to include ingredients that humans could digest safely.

 Primrose dominated the conversation, regailing them with stories from the learning center and questions about Tobias’s work and passionate defenses of her favorite characters from the books she was reading. But there were quieter moments, too. Moments when Tobias and Serendal exchanged glances across the table that communicated something beyond words.

After dinner, Primrose insisted that Tobias read her one of the news stories before bedtime. He complied, doing his best to give each character a distinct voice the way Serendel did, and although his performance was amateur at best, Primrose seemed to find it acceptable.

 She fell asleep before he finished the last chapter, her small body curled against her pillow, her wings folded neatly against her back, the stuffed dragon clutched to her chest. Tobias stood in the doorway of her room for a long moment, watching her sleep, feeling something warm and unfamiliar expanding in his chest. She asked me if you could be her uncle.

 Serendal said softly, appearing beside him. Among the Kilvari, family is not always defined by blood. We choose our relatives as much as we inherit them. Tobias turned to look at her. What did you tell her? I told her I would ask you. And if I said yes, Sarendall smiled, and something shifted between them, some barrier dissolving, then I suppose you would have to come to dinner more often.

 Uncle duties require a certain level of commitment. I think I could manage that. Um, they stood together in the doorway watching Primrose sleep. And Tobias realized that this was what he had been missing all those years. Not just connection, but family, not just purpose, but love. Not just a life, but a life shared with others who mattered, who cared, who would be there when the snow fell and the moons rose and the world grew cold and strange.

Serendal, he said quietly. I know this is sudden and I know we have only known each other a short time, but I want you to know that whatever happens between us, whatever form our connection takes, I am committed to being there for you and Primrose as a friend, as a colleague, as an honorary uncle, or as whatever else you might need.

 Serendal reached out and took his hand, her fingers cool against his warmth. I know, she said simply. I could see it in your eyes that first night at the medical center. You have a good heart, Tobias Reinhold. You just forgot how to use it for a while. Your daughter reminded me. She has that effect on people.

 They walked back to the living area together, and Serendal poured them each a glass of the fruit wine Tobias had brought. They sat on the comfortable couch, close but not quite touching, and talked about everything and nothing. About their childhoods, their dreams, their fears, about the challenges of raising a child alone and the isolation of burying oneself in work.

 About the strangeness of finding connection where you least expected it, and the courage required to accept it when it appeared. At some point, the conversation drifted into comfortable silence, and they simply sat together, watching the snow fall outside the window, the twin moons visible through a break in the clouds. “I never expected any of this,” Tobias said eventually. “I thought I knew what my life was going to be.

 I had it all planned out, all organized, all under control. And then a little girl with purple wings stood in the snow and asked me for help and everything changed. Serendal leaned her head against his shoulder, her wings rustling softly. That is how it works. Sometimes the universe has a way of sending us what we need, even when we do not know we need it.

 Is that a Kelvari saying? No, that is a Serendal saying. I made it up just now. Tobias laughed, and the sound surprised him with its genuine warmth. I like it. I like you. The words hung in the air between them, simple and honest, and full of possibility. Tobias turned to look at her, this beautiful, strong, remarkable woman who had welcomed him into her home and her family, and he saw his own hope reflected in her violet eyes. “I like you, too, Serendal, very much.

” She smiled and in that smile was everything he had been searching for without knowing it. Connection, belonging, the promise of a future that was not empty, not lonely, not defined solely by professional achievement and material success. Then I suppose, Serendel said softly, we will have to see where this leads. I suppose we will.

 Outside, the snow continued to fall, blanketing Frost Hollow Station in a layer of white that transformed the utilitarian architecture into something magical and new. Inside, a human and a Kelvari sat together on a comfortable couch, their hands intertwined, their hearts open, their futures uncertain, but somehow impossibly wonderfully bright.

 And in the next room, a small dragon girl dreamed of adventures across the stars, secure in the knowledge that her mama dragon was safe, her family was growing, and the universe was full of kind strangers with good eyes who would stop in the snow to help a child in need. The end.