46th of Searing, 120 AS
"Where are you from?"
The stick in Bell's hand paused in the process of doodling in the dirt as she looked up at the child who stood next to her. He was a young boy, a rathari dog of some kind given by his floppy ears, and as he looked expectantly at Bell his tail wagged furiously behind him. There were actually several children standing around Bell now, which shouldn't have been a surprise given she was in one of the small parks in the city. The canopy of trees stretched above all of them, creating a wavering pattern of light and shadow on the ground below which Bell was using to make her little piece of art.
For a few seconds Bell considered how to answer, her long ears twitching this way and that. Finally, she looked back down and continued her work, the fur of her body shimmering and changing from a light grey into blue, purple, and finally settling on a light shade of pink. The kids whispered excitedly around her, seemingly interested in her fur's odd ability to change colors at random intervals. Perhaps that was why they had started to collect here whenever Bell showed up.
"A lot of places." This was said rather matter of factly, but the answer did not seem to be the one that the rathari was looking for. His tail slowed its motions as he inched closer, kneeling down opposite Bell and sticking his long snout barely an inch from Bell's face. The rabbit rocked back onto her heels, pink nose twitching as her fur shimmered to orange.
"No, like," he waved a hand vaguely, "Where did you live when you were little?"
"All over the place." Bell tilted her head, a smile quirking her lips at the boy's growing frustration. After a moment she finally relented, "I grew up in a trading caravan. My parents are traders, and we never stayed long in one place. After I grew up I joined another traveling group and never settled down anywhere."
Instead of looking appeased the boy merely looked even more curious, "So you don't have a home?"
Bell laughed and tilted backward, lowering herself smoothly into a sitting position and crossing her legs. The stick she laid across her lap and rested her hands on her thighs, "That depends on what you call home." Around the all group of children shuffled closer to listen, but the original boy looked more puzzled than ever. The rabbit raised a finger and pointed at his chest, "You are probably thinking of a home as a house, with tables and chairs, a fire and bed." She then pointed at her own chest, "For me, home isn't the place I sleep at night or where I eat. Home is where the people I care about are, wherever my friends are. Anywhere in the world can be home, so long as I enjoy the people I am there with."
"But..." that tail was wagging so fast a small cloud of dust began to kick up, and with a note of disappointment Bell realized her little drawing was being swept away as well, "What about if you don't like the people you are with? What if you are all alone?"
"Hmmmm..." Tapping her chin Bell thought about the question, leaning forward to rest her elbow on a knee as she did, "I suppose if I were alone... I would say my home is in the memories of those I care for."
"Memories can't be home!" one girl called out, and those around her agreed. Around the little circle, more and more voices began to join in. Bell looked from one young face to another, seeing how certain they all felt on the opinion that one could not have a home in their memories. She had to admit that it was an odd concept. How could she explain it?
"Oh!" A thought occurred to her, and Bell waved her hand at the children, "Here, come closer. Let me show you."
