As Dama and Mumu approached Kina Alder's farm, the rich scent of earth and ripe fruit filled the air. On either side of the paved dirt path, golden fields of wheat swayed gently in the breeze, fruit trees that blossomed with apples, pears, and peaches dotted the landscape, their abundance protected by neat white fences.

  Walking along, Dama couldn’t help but admire the beauty of it all. “This place never changes.” he muttered with a smile, his gaze sweeping over the serene area. He glanced over his shoulder at Mumu, who trailed behind, his arms in a rhythmic manner.

  Ahead, Kina’s farmhouse came into view, standing proudly at the end of the path. The house had a rustic charm, its wooden beams and white exterior blending harmoniously with the farmland around it. Dama thought how it reminded him of Mr. Koul’s house, but had a cozier, countryside vibe to it, complete with flower boxes under the windows.

  As they reached the front porch, Dama paused, hearing the faint, cheerful sound of Kina humming a tune inside. A smile spread across his face as he turned to Mumu. “You ready to get patched up?” he asked with a chuckle.

  Mumu gave a firm nod, his black slit for eyes glinting with gratitude.

  Laughing, Dama ruffled the fur on his belly before turning back to the door and knocking.

  From inside, Kina’s warm, sing-song voice called out, “Just a second!” followed by the sound of footsteps approaching.

  Moments later, the door swung open, and Kina appeared. She was wearing her signature plaid shirt, rolled up to her elbows, and a pair of well-worn overalls. Her maroon hair was tied back, though a few strands framed her sun-kissed face.

  Her gaze landed on Mumu first, her eyes widening for a split second before darting downward to meet Dama’s cheerful expression. “Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite little helper!” she exclaimed, her voice carrying that familiar mix of peppy happiness and motherly affection.

  Kina crouched slightly to Dama’s level, placing her hands on her hips as she gave him a once-over. “And you brought company, huh?” Her gaze shifted back to Mumu, and her lips quirked into an intrigued smile after seeing the tears. “Looks like someone’s in need of my handiwork~!”

  Dama grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, Mumu had a bit of an accident. Can you help patch him up?”

  “Of course, darling!” Kina said whilst turning around with a wave of her hand. “Come on in, both of you. Let’s see what we’re working with.”

  Stepping aside, she ushered them into the cozy farmhouse, where the smell of freshly baked bread and herbs wafted through the air. The interior was warm and inviting, with wooden beams lining the ceiling and shelves filled with jars of preserves, dried herbs, and a few well-loved books.

  Mumu hesitated for a moment before stepping inside, his stitched form looking slightly out of place in the charming country home. Kina took his arms into her own, examining the damage with a practiced eye. “Well well, these tears don't look too bad."

  Dama watched as Kina inspected Mumu, feeling a sense of relief. She always had a way of making things seem less daunting. As she gathered her sewing kit and thread, he couldn’t help but think how lucky the village was to have someone like her. "Where would we be without her and the rest of the Alders?"

  Kina, spotting all damage and tears, then prepared her sewing kit before getting a closer look. Meanwhile, Mumu tried his best to settle onto a stool in the living room. However, the stool was far too small for his large frame, and he sat stiffly, his body bent awkwardly and his arms tucked close to his sides, as if afraid to break something.

  Dama, seated in one of the grandmother rocking chairs nearby, couldn’t help but giggle softly at the sight. The rhythmic creak of his chair added to the cozy atmosphere of the room.

  After picking out her usual tools, Kina chose a spool of thread around the shade of light green as Mumu’s fabric, but not exact. She placed the kit on the small table in front of the sofa and turned her attention back to Mumu.

  Her gaze fell on his rigid posture, and a burst of laughter escaped her. “Oh, Mumu, darling,” she said, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye, “come on now, you know you can make yourself as cozy as you want in my house. Not just you, but your sister and your cutie-patootie master, too! My door’s always open for you three. Now, follow me to the couch, that way we’ll both be comfortable, and I can get a proper look at those tears, sound alright?”

  Mumu glanced toward Dama, his rather expressive eyes seeking reassurance. Dama, rocking back and forth, gave him an encouraging nod and a wide grin.

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  Taking the cue, Mumu nodded back at Kina, then rose from the stool with a careful, almost bashful movement. He padded over to the white-cushioned couch and settled onto it with a soft creak, his large frame making the seat seem much smaller than it was.

  Kina followed him, sitting down beside him with a warm smile. She reached out, her hand motioning for his torn arm. She then studied the tears again, closer this time, gently feeling the edges of the fabric to assess the damage. After a moment, she smirked and glanced up at Mumu. "Just what kind of naughty things have you been up to, hm?” she said with a soft laugh.

  "He was trying to make breakfast by himself." Dama responded in Mumu's stead, rubbing his cheek while doing so. "It was pretty...how would you say...endearing, yeah! I appreciate the effort, but you should have seen what he put in the stew, haha!"

  Kina shared in Dama's laughter. “Pfft, I can only imagine! I'm just glad it's not like last time when he fought off that bear. Don’t worry, Mumu, we’ll have you good as new in no time!” she said, her tone warm and playful.

  Mumu’s voids for eyes blinked and he scratched the back of his head with his intact arm—a gesture so awkwardly human-like, it made Kina laugh.

  “Oh, my stars, you’re just the goofiest thing~!” she said, her voice tinged with affection. “Adorably goofy, I might add.”

  Dama, rocking in the grandmother chair, chimed in with a playful giggle. “He sure is!” he said, his laughter childlike and contagious.

  As the laughter subsided, Dama noticed a shift in Kina’s expression. Even though she still wore a smile, there was a subtle, faraway look in her eyes, tinged with melancholy. She gently held Mumu’s arm, her fingers pausing mid-motion, lost in a memory of her as a kid looking up to two older boys: one was Himon Koul, and the other was of a teenage boy the same age as Koul at the time, with messy dark-green hair—Joel Jinbia.

  “Kina?” Dama’s soft voice broke the quiet. He stopped rocking, his bright expression turning into one of concern.

  Kina blinked and sat up straighter, as if shaking herself free from a memory. “O-Oh, my my, just where did my mind go off to?” she said, her hand lightly cupping her cheek.

  “You okay?” Dama asked.

  Kina smiled warmly at him, though her eyes still held a flicker of something deeper. “I’m fine, darling. Just... Mumu reminded me of someone from long ago. Someone who was as big and goofy as him, though maybe not as adorable.” She chuckled softly, the sound carrying a mix of humor and bittersweet nostalgia.

  Dama tilted his head curiously but didn’t press further, sensing it was something personal. Instead, he offered a reassuring smile. “Mumu has that effect on people, I guess.”

  Kina nodded, her hands resuming their work on Mumu’s stitches. “He sure does. Now, let’s get you fixed up, big guy.”

  As she began threading the needle with the light green thread, the room fell into a comfortable silence, the rhythmic rocking of Dama’s chair blending with the gentle sounds of Kina sewing. Her earlier somberness seemed to melt away as she focused on the task at hand, her fingers moving with skill and care.

  Mumu, for his part, sat still, his awkwardness replaced by a quiet trust in Kina’s capable hands. Dama watched them with a small smile, the warmth of Kina’s home wrapping around him like a comforting embrace.

  “So, darling, how’s your morning been so far?” she asked, her tone light and inviting, though her hands moved with practiced precision as she mended Mumu’s tears.

  Dama straightened up slightly in the rocking chair, resting his chin on his palm. “It’s been good, Ms. Alder!” he replied, choosing his words carefully, mindful of keeping Giona’s presence a secret. “Other than Mumu's little accident, woke up early, did some chores, and, uh, made sure to eat before heading out.”

  Kina arched a knowing eyebrow at him. “Oh? Still eating healthy, I hope?” she teased, glancing briefly at him before turning her attention back to her sewing.

  “Of course!” Dama said, confidence exuding from him. His gaze drifted to her hands as she began her work on Mumu’s arm. Her movements were graceful and deliberate, each stitch precise yet filled with a palpable tenderness. He marveled at the ease with which she worked, as if every motion was second nature to her, causing Dama’s thoughts to wander. "She’s so experienced… I wonder if she was around back when Mom first created Mumu and Nina. Could she have seen it happen?"

  Kina’s voice brought him back to the present. “Still taking care of yourself, I hope? Stretching? Getting enough sun? Daily showers?"

  Dama chuckled, shaking his head. “When it comes to stretching, I've been lacking a bit. I've been getting enough sun though, that's for sure! I also took a bath this morning, courtesy of Mumu funnily enough!”

  Kina hummed approvingly, giving Mumu’s arm a gentle pat before starting on another tear. "That's good to hear, you're such a good guardian Mumu-darling~"

  After a moment of comfortable silence, Dama tilted his head and finally let his curiosity take hold. “Hey, Ms. Alder,” he began, his tone almost scared, “I remember you said a long time ago that you picked up sewing from my mother, right?”

  Kina smiled, her hands pausing for a moment. “Oh, absolutely. Your mother, Madima, was incredible at sewing. She had this amazing way with a needle—like it was just an extension of her hand. She made stuffed animals for just about every kid in Enohay Village.”

  Her eyes sparkled as she continued, her tone taking on a nostalgic warmth. “I admired her so much when I was younger—not just her skill but her elegance, her beauty, everything about her. One day, I finally got the courage to ask if she’d teach me, and to my surprise, she said yes." Kina then turned her head towards Dama with an infectious smile while pointing upwards. "And not just me—Alexandra, the village seamstress, also learned from her. Your mother didn’t hold back when it came to sharing her talents.”

  Dama’s expression softened as he listened, his heart swelling with pride.

  Kina added in a off-handed manner, “I actually have a room upstairs full of projects we worked on together. Some hers, some mine, but every single one is special.”

  Dama’s eyes widened, his wonder evident. “You do?” he asked, leaning forward in the chair.

  Kina nodded. "Mhm!"

  Sitting back in the rocking chair, Dama tapped his finger on the left chair-arm, hesitating. After a few moments though, he then asked, “If that's so, Ms. Kina, did you ever see how Mumu and Nina were made?”

  -

  Next: (Extra Chapter 5) Madima’s Gift