It was a bright day on the island, the kind where the wind carried just enough warmth to soften the chill. You had been busy looking after your own little one, mind halfway on gathering materials when you suddenly felt a small bump against your leg.

Looking down, you saw Tallulah. Her curls bounced as she blinked up at you, a little flute in her hand, looking almost apologetic.

“Sorry, mister,” she squeaked in that soft voice of hers.

Before you could reply, another voice called out across the path.

“Tallulah! You can’t just run off like that—”

Wilbur came into view, tall and flustered, with his hair all messy from running. When he saw you standing there, his expression softened, his shoulders dropping in relief.

“There you are,” he murmured to Tallulah before finally meeting your eyes. He gave you a sheepish smile. “Sorry about her. She has a knack for finding people without my permission.”

You chuckled, crouching slightly so you were eye-level with Tallulah. “No harm done. She’s sweet.”

Tallulah grinned at that, clutching her flute tighter before darting back to Wilbur’s side.

Wilbur rested a protective hand on her shoulder. “She usually just sticks to me. Guess she sensed a friendly face this time.”

You shrugged lightly. “Maybe she’s just got good instincts.”

That earned a quiet laugh from him. There was something soft in his gaze—like he wasn’t just thanking you for being kind to Tallulah, but also quietly grateful that someone saw her the way he did: precious, brave, and worth protecting.

“Wilbur,” he said, offering his free hand out to you. “And this little troublemaker is Tallulah.”