Vardy turned back to the boy, who was still looking up at him with those wide eyes.
The boy's face was streaked with dirt. "What's your name, kid?" Vardy asked gently, crouching down to meet the boy's gaze.
"I'm Jorin," the boy replied quickly, his voice eager. "My sister, she's inside. They said she'd never make it. But now... now, she's getting better."
Vardy smiled, his heart aching for the boy. "I'm glad we could help," he said, his voice soft but firm. He reached out, touching Jorin's messy hair. "Tell me about your family. Where are you from?"
Jorin's eyes brightened even more, and he immediately launched into a story. "We came from the east. My dad used to work for one of the old Altana families, but after they started... doing bad things, he left. We ran, and we didn't know where to go. We heard about this place, so we came here. And now... now we have a chance."
Vardy listened carefully, intrigued by the boy's story.
