Author's Note: In case you hadn't already guessed, this is a story describing Shinon's past. We never know a whole lot about the guy, as he refuses to talk to pretty much anyone, so my sister decided to write this story up, and I'm posting it here for her. It should explain a lot. I've read it all, and it's a great story. But don't take my word for it--read it for yourself....

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The sun's rays bear down on the boy's frail body, draining what little water he has left in his system through sweat. His legs tremble beneath him, threatening to give way at any second. Grunting and groaning to himself, the boy wills himself forward yet another step. He can make it. He does not yet know where he's going, but surely help will come somewhere and he must carry himself to that place.

The boy's stomach grumbles awfully, and his mind is once again returned to food. He hasn't had a bite to eat in three days - except for that handful of berries he'd found in the dense, humid forest he'd just stumbled out of. He couldn't eat any more. The fruit was so bitter that he would have vomited it all if he'd continued.

It was terrible, that forest. The boy is eternally grateful he finally made it out. He'd spent two full days trying to push through it and nearly didn't make it. On the morning of the second day, he'd been so exhausted and so sick that he could barely get to his feet. Yet his willpower was strong enough. In fact, his willpower is the only reason he's still standing.

Looking around the town he now walks through, the boy wonders if exiting the forest really meant anything for him. There was no hope for him in the forest, and so far there appears to be none for him here either. Surely the people notice him. How can they not? The boy is highly aware of his staggering, his emaciated body, his limbs covered in old bruises. His eyes plead for help at each and every passerby. Yet each and every one has glanced at him, glared, then kept walking by.

The boy normally would get angry. He should have known the inhabitants of Gallia would look down on him - a human boy. A dirty, filthy, ugly human boy. He would get angry. However, his body is just too weak to feel anything. Realizing that he's come to the end of his road, his knees finally give way and he falls to the ground.

Each breath is heavy and full of pain. What a useless life he's lived - and such a short one, at that. He's never known what it's like to have parents who loved him. He's never played on the playground swings, laughing with the other children. He's never had a carefree childhood. Rage, pain, fear, and rejection is all he's ever known - and now it is all he will ever know. Nobody has stopped to help the collapsed boy, and he's sure no one will. They will leave him to die in the streets and clean up his body when someone complains about stepping over him.

The boy closes his eyes and wonders how much longer the sun will torture him before taking his life. Slowly the seconds tick by…slowly….

So lost in himself, the boy doesn't notice at first when a large hand gently grasps his shoulder. He feels his body give a shake and finally looks up. His heart leaps into his throat when he sees the enormous man kneeling down next to him. The man could break one of his bones easily. Shuddering, the boy tries to sit up, tries to scoot away.

Then he takes a closer look. The man doesn't look like a laguz. He has no tail, no furry ears, no cat-like markings. The man is a beorc, and his eyes show compassion.

"You look hungry," the man says, pulling a sandwich out of a bag and dropping it in the boy's lap.

Surprised, the boy shoots an uneasy glance at the man. Sure, he's been tempted with food before. People would hold out a tasty morsel to him and jerk it away just when he reached for it, laughing and running away. He'd been humiliated far too many times that way. Still, no one has ever dropped the food in his lap and truly expected him to eat it. Slowly the boy picks up the sandwich, inspects it, subtly sniffs it to check for poison, then takes a bite.

Never in his life has a sandwich been so delicious. The mixture of meat and cheese swirls around his mouth, dancing on his taste buds, and before he realizes it, he's finished off the sandwich before the minute is up. The man laughs quietly, though not in a mocking way. He seems simply amused that the boy could eat so fast.

"What's your name, son?" the man asks.

The boy is eternally grateful for the food, but is still suspicious of the strange man. He eyes him cautiously before answering, "Why do you care?"

The man smiles and says, "You're a careful one. You must have had a tough life. How old are you, boy?"

"I'm ten," the boy replies slowly.

"That's a ripe young age," the man says. "Well…you have my interest, son. How would a boy like you just stumble into a town like this? You won't find much help here from anyone else."

The boy gazes into the man's eyes. As cautious and careful as he wants to be, he can't deny the longing to be taken in. Silently his mind begs for the man to bring him to his house, at least for a week or two, just long enough to be fed and cleaned up for a bit.

"My name's Greil," the man introduces himself. "I live here in Gallia. I don't know you, I don't know why you're here, but I do know I can't just leave you out here to starve. Come on, boy. You could use a little TLC. I'll let you stay at my home for a little while."

The man called Greil stands up and holds out a gigantic hand to the trembling boy. He doesn't know whether he should trust Greil, but at this moment, there's not much else that he can do. His hand seems tiny as he places it in Greil's, who proceeds to pull him up to his feet and brings an arm around his back to help support him.

Fortunately, Greil's home is not far off. The boy stumbles as he enters through the doorway, but Greil catches him. He steadies himself as best he can, then glances at the startled expression of the blue-haired lady standing in front of him. He notices that she is quite pretty, with soft eyes and a caring expression. He also notices the tiny baby she holds in her arms, short blue hair sprouting from the top of his head. The baby gives a sleepy glance at the boy before deciding there's nothing to look at and closes his eyes against his mother's chest.

"Oh Greil, what happened to him?" the woman asks worriedly, looking over the thin boy.

"He'd collapsed about a block from the house," Greil replies. "I figured we could take him in for at least a little while."

"Certainly," Greil's wife says, smiling tenderly at the boy. "He already looks like he needs some rest. Come, I'll set up a bed for you…?"

She pauses, not knowing the boy's name. Overwhelmed with the unexpected hospitality, the boy decides to throw all caution to the wind. He doesn't need it here. Already he feels safe, cared about - something he's never felt all his life.

"Shinon," the boy says. "My name is Shinon."