“Do they live there?” Phil asks, scooting closer, but not too much to spook the kid. Bright green with hints of lime blink up at Phil, mesmerized, and Phil feels the same way, because there’s no possible way that the so-called ‘monster’ that’s supposed to bring death and destruction can be so...tiny.

There’re so…small, just small and dressed in ratty, dirty, ripped up clothes, hesitance and fear matching admiration swimming together.

Black hair, painted in curls framing their face, matching pale skin and pointed ears with dirt on them.

They’re a phantom hybrid, Phil can see it, the way their ears are pointed and Tiny horns popping out passed their bangs. Maybe years from now, they would be appropriately terrifying, strong and deadly. 

But not now, the little phantom wasn’t a threat since they were so small. Finally, he found the fourth kid, the kid he could raise along side with Wilbur and Tommy and Techno. But how was she, so small, supposedly going to bring down the world.

“Yes, it’s been under there for a while now. We still can’t get it out.” The woman behind Phil says, slight bitterness on her tongue. “We sometimes kick food under, out of mercy’s sake.” 

Phil pulls the kid out of the hole, setting them on their feet. He stays kneeling on the ground, hands brushing off the dirt on the kid’s shirt, and the village has taken multiple steps back now, eyes wide.    “Now what’s your name?” Phil asks quietly, as the kid stares at Phil’s hair, before reaching a hand out and yanking at it. “Ow-”