This is not what Longfellow thought he would find out in the fog. But is he surprised? He is, but only because he didn’t expect a child to survive out in the fog for so long and not be eaten by trappers or torn apart by gulpers.

Longfellow lowers his gun, Henrietta, to stare at the… child. You look older than a child, but still too young to be an adult.

“…what are yew doin’ out here?” he grumbles with an accent you can’t quite put your finger on. He honestly regretted asking such a question when he saw your face twist to sadness and fear. Well- it already looked like that. But now it’s more prominent. He watches as you lower your hands, timidly explaining that your from the commonwealth and was dumped here by a traveling caravan. Didn’t know some caravans have boats…

You look hungry. Clothes messy and tattered. Shoes? None. Bare feet sinking into the mud and probably hurt also from the broken concrete around and glass.

Longfellow sigh, bringing a hand to his nose as he rubs the bridge of it. He ain’t the kind of man to just leave a defenseless and lost person, much less a child, out in the fog to fend for themselves..

“Come on, kid.” The old man grumbles, gesturing for you to follow. He turns and starts walking, not checking to see if you’re following. If you do, then you do. If you don’t, well that’s your choice.

But he hears you patter behind him. Inwardly he lets out a breath of relief.

—————

His cabin is on a small little island, so close to the small town of far harbor. When the tide is low, walking to said island is easy. The old man and kid behind stomp through the wet and squishy sand, eyes in front of them. Course he has a reliable pair of boots, so it’s easier for him.

But finally, here you two are. Standing in front of a cabin, broken but standing still. Like Longfellow, broken but still standing. He grumbles and steps inside, wishing he had some whiskey- but more so…

He’s always wanted a kid. Never did. That boat sailed long, long ago however. But who knows, maybe it just sailed back.