The foster center sat on the edge of Dawnmere's older district—half-hidden behind a leaning birch tree and a fence with peeling seafoam paint. It didn't look sad. Just tired. Like a place that carried too many beginnings in its bones.
Isla stood beside Lennox on the porch.
He hadn't spoken since they got out of the car.
His hands were shoved in his coat pockets. His hair was wind-tossed. And his foot tapped, silent and uneven, like it couldn't decide whether to run or root itself.
"You're not alone," Isla said.
He looked at her then.
Not with fear.
But with weight.
"I don't know what to say," he murmured.
"You'll know when you see her."
He nodded once. Breathed deep. Knocked.
---
Inside, the walls were pale yellow. The kind of yellow people used when they wanted to fake sunlight. There was a mural on one wall—children's handprints forming the shape of a tree. Stickers of stars and clouds hung from the ceiling like someone had tried to make the sky less scary.
A woman stepped out from the office. Warm eyes. Cardigan buttoned wrong.
"You must be Lennox," she said.
He nodded, voice caught somewhere behind his teeth.
"I'm Clara. I've been with Juniper for the last few months."
Clara looked at Isla then. "And you are?"
"Just a friend," Isla said softly. "I'm here for him."
Clara smiled. "We all need one of those."
She motioned toward a hallway.
"She's in the reading room. She's… nervous. But she made something for you."
Isla touched Lennox's arm gently.
"You've got this."
---
The room smelled like crayons and old books.
Juniper sat in a beanbag chair shaped like a turtle, her knees drawn to her chest, a paper crown askew in her curls. The fox stuffed animal was clutched tight in one arm. In the other? A folded piece of paper—creased and rumpled from nerves.
She looked up when they entered.
She had his eyes.
Wide. Watchful. Older than five should be.
Lennox froze for a breath. Just one.
Then he knelt. Slowly. Carefully. Like he was approaching a butterfly on the edge of flight.
"Hey," he said, voice quieter than Isla had ever heard it.
Juniper didn't smile.
But she didn't run.
"You're tall," she said.
He smiled. "I didn't mean to be."
She studied him. Then held out the folded paper.
He took it gently. Unfolded it.
A drawing.
Him. Her. The fox.
Stick figures beneath a crooked rainbow.
"You gave me hair," he said. "That's generous."
She tilted her head. "You look like you used to have more."
Isla nearly choked on a laugh behind them.
Juniper looked at Isla. "Who's she?"
Before Lennox could answer, Isla stepped forward.
"I'm Isla. I'm... a helper."
Juniper blinked. "Like a sidekick?"
Lennox grinned. "Exactly like that."
Juniper thought about it for a second.
"Okay," she said.
Just like that.
---
They sat together for twenty minutes.
Juniper spoke slowly, carefully, like someone who'd had to explain herself too many times to people who didn't listen.
She liked dinosaurs and pink macaroni. She didn't like loud clapping or when people slammed doors. She couldn't spell "Thursday" yet but could read all the animal cards in the binder Miss Clara gave her.
She asked Lennox if he could draw a mermaid that looked like a firefighter.
He said he'd try.
And when it was time to go, Juniper said only this:
"Are you coming back?"
Lennox met her eyes.
"Yes," he said. "If you want me to."
She nodded. "Okay."
Then handed him the fox.
"Just until next time. He's braver than me."
Lennox held it like something sacred.
And Isla—quietly, from the door—realized she'd just witnessed something that looked suspiciously like home trying to happen.