fire

                                    

                                          

Guess who just got covid :/
It's me
I got covid
But! Since i have nothing better to do, I'm updating! I know, crazy. Y'all probably thought i was dead or smth but no, i'm completely fine, aside from, like, the deadly virus currently living in my body. Anyway, onto the story! :)
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welcoming
/ˈwelkəmiNG/
adjective
behaving in a polite or friendly way to a guest or new arrival.
She was sure that this was the right word. Even though she was only 14, her vocabulary was broad, greater than the majority of adult Americans. She had never experienced it before, but there was no better way to describe the people. 
They had seen her light the fire in the little alleyway that she now called home to keep warm. The twigs barely caught alight, their wooden frames damp from the cold. She had shivered slightly. It had been weeks, the days getting shorter but colder, and she was starting to think that she couldn't take much more of this. Living off scraps she found in dumpsters and on the cold streets of New York was possibly the worst environment she had ever lived in, and that was certainly saying something given that she had grown up in the red room. It was a wonder that she had even lasted this long. 
But then they had seen her, they had seen the small spark from her fingers and the lack of a lighter. She had gotten reckless, sloppy, and desperate for warmth. She hadn't checked to make sure that no one was watching before she tried to set the twigs alight. She was too weak to run. 
They had walked up to her, spoken in sweet voices, and convinced her to stay with them for the night. They said that they could help her. She knew she shouldn't trust them. She had been trained better than to believe some strangers on the street when they offer her a place to stay without asking for anything in return. But she was cold, oh so cold, and hungry too, and she caved and let them lead her back to their apartment because if they turned out to be mass murderers or something that was fine because at least if she was dead she wouldn't be cold. 
They gave her food, chicken noodle soup, and she didn't bother to check whether it was poisoned before picking up the spoon and taking a large gulp. It burned down her throat but settled at the bottom of her stomach, filling her with warmth. Her hosts only spoke once she had finished the entire bowl, for which she was grateful. Finally, one of them spoke.
"Hello." The lady was middle age, average height if a little on the small side, with brown hair and kind looking eyes. She looked welcoming. "I'm Milah, what's your name?" Suddenly, the reality of the situation hit the girl with full force. She was in an unknown place with complete strangers who had seen her light a fire with just her hands. Her eyes started flitting around the place, looking for the nearest exit. She needed to get out. Now. 
The man spoke, suddenly snapping her out of her flighty response."Don't worry, we're not going to hurt you." She calmed, though not due to his words. She needed to be rational about this, show them that she had nothing to hide. That they should just let her go because surely the light must have been playing tricks on them and there was really no reason to keep her there. 
"I'm Natasha." Politeness was always the way to a person's heart. That's what Madam B had told them. She obviously had never been trying to find a way to her student's hearts, or she would have followed her own lesson.