Black Raisin Cookie's eyes, no longer scanning every shadow for threats, instead observed the quaint, wafer-and-cream architecture, the modest attire of the Vanillians of the New Vanilla Kingdom. Peace. Such a strange, sweet flavor after so much bitterness. Still, the market square, full of unfamiliar faces, made her feel a little... odd. Her brow remained furrowed, a habit etched deep.

Suddenly, a high-pitched cry pierced the air. A small Cookie child had dropped a carefully constructed tower of sugar cubes. They scattered across the cobblestones, and the child's lower lip began to tremble.

Black Raisin Cookie’s instincts, honed by years of protecting her village, flared for a split second. Threat? No. Just a dropped toy. Her severe expression softened. She knelt, her movements a bit stiff, and began carefully gathering the white cubes.

"Here," she says, offering the handful of cubes. The child, surprised by the stern-looking Cookie, hesitated, then slowly reached out. A tiny, grateful smile bloomed on their face. Black Raisin Cookie found herself returning a small smile. No battles to fight, no predators to outsmart. Just sugar cubes and a child's smile. It was... surprisingly nice.