Author's note:

First things first: This was all meant to be one big (BIG) chapter, but once I reached roughly the 30K word count, I decided it would be too cruel to make you read through all of that on one page. Thus, Miracle is split up into seven predetermined parts—but is still uploaded all at once, from beginning to end, so it's best if reviewed as the oneshot it was intended to be, yeah?

Enjoy.

I

Sand.

The word echoed in her thoughts, and as she grasped at the earth, she recognized that that was what the word meant.

Sand, she thought, letting it run through her fingers. Sand.

She looked around. Much sand. It was everywhere. As far as the eye could see. Sand, sand, sand.

She… slowly… stood. Stand, she thought as she performed the action. It hurt to stand. She didn't like standing.

But she felt as though she must, because the sun above also hurt, and she felt… endangered… as long as she did not stand.

She shuffled a step forward, and then two. Walking.

She stumbled. Walking hurts too.

But she continued on. She continued on for a long while. She could grasp no concept of time, but the hurtful sun was in a very different place in the sky when she saw something new.

Smooth… sand? She hunched over, running her palm across the ground. The ground here was soft… paved. Road, she thought. Instinct told her to follow this.

So follow it she did. The smooth sand was very bright, brighter than normal sand… it felt as though the sun now attacked her from below as well as above.

She panted. Her clothes were torn and ragged, and they were too much; she cast off her cloak, now damp from her sweat, and dropped it into the sand.

Walking hurt so much. She couldn't do it. Her lips hurt and so did her stomach. Her skin did, too.

She stumbled again. She had stumbled many times while walking through the sand, but this was the last time. She could not stand up again.

She collapsed into a pitiful heap, breathing the sand in. Soon, even her consciousness left her.

Rumbling, this time. She blinked, and above her was… not the sky.

She sat up slowly. Everything still hurt, like before—but the sun no longer afflicted her.

"Oy," came a voice from behind her. She turned around, startled.

There was a man there. He sat with his back to her; his hands were around reins, and two horses trotted in front of him, dragging along this covered wagon in which she and her savior sat.

"You awake, girl?" the man said gruffly.

Girl? She didn't respond. She couldn't; didn't know how. She took a vain breath, trying to imitate him.

"Girl," he said, "there's some food and water next to you. It's on me, don't worry 'bout it."

The Girl frowned, looking around. She found a tin can that made sloshing noises when she picked it up, but it had this thing on top of it…

The man glanced over his shoulder at her, only to find her staring dumbly at a canteen. "You… twist the lid off," he said, imitating the motion with his hand. The Girl nodded quickly, and obeyed, spinning the lid off enthusiastically. As she started desperately gulping down water, the man turned his eyes forward, shaking his head. "Naga's sake, who doesn't know how to open a canteen," he muttered to himself.

To the Girl's disappointment, the canteen's contents were not infinite. She puckered her cracked lips and turned it upside down, trying to utilize every drop. When she finally gave up on it, she looked around for this 'food' the nice man had mentioned.

The man glanced behind at her, and found her happily nibbling on one of his homemade sandwiches, having apparently figured out the wrapper by herself. "You better be grateful," he said, catching her attention. "My wife made that for me."

The Girl inclined her head to indicate her thanks, though he suspected she still didn't understand what he was saying.

"…You don't talk much, do you?" he said, squinting. He then shrugged, facing forward again. "Fine by me."

The Girl finished her sandwich quickly, and found herself thirsty once again. She found another canteen, confidently asserted her competence at lid removal, and downed its contents just as the last one.

After a moment of staring at the empty canteen, she sighed. Her stomach no longer pained her, but her lips and skin still did, and she feared this man could not help her there, no matter how kind he was.

"Your first sound," the man mused. "Of course it'd be a sigh." He let slack the reins, slowing the horses to a steady halt. "Welp, it's almost night. We'd best be sleeping, my destination isn't going anywhere." He shot an irked glance at the Girl. "Though I only packed food with one person in mind… Damn my soft heart, taking pity on an unconscious hitchhiker." He jabbed an accusing finger at her. "If we run out of food and starve, it's your fault!"

She blinked, growing upset. She tried to form words.

He sighed, shaking his head. "Gods bless it, I'm yelling at a girl who can't even speak." He dismounted from the wagon. "You can take the covered wagon tonight, Girl. I've got a sleeping bag for me out here."

The Girl frowned.

The man started working on a fire, slicing his flint and steel over some firewood. A spark shot the wrong way, singing his leg hair, and he swore loudly as he stood.

He saw a figure out of the corner of his eye. "What? Girl, I said you're staying in the wagon."

She shook her head.

"So you can understand me?" he said, growing angry. "Then listen: I've been nice enough to let you tag along, and drink my water, and eat the best sandwich ever, so you'd best listen to me before I change my mind about saving you!"

She frowned sadly.

He looked away. "Gods, don't give me any of that… puppy-dog eyes nonsense!"

After a quiet moment, he hazarded a glance over at her, and instantly regretted it: she was crying.

"Ah, gods! None of that, none of that! Fine, I'll… let you sleep outside, with me." He crouched down, resuming work on the fire. "I've only got one sleeping bag, though, so—so you're sleeping on the ground!"

The Girl smiled, clumsily wiping away her tears as she sat down, watching him work at the fire.

He muttered to himself as he worked. "So ungrateful… Manipulative little… Using my weakness against me…"

The Girl giggled quietly.

Finally, a spark caught, and a fire burst to life. "Hell yes!" the man said, jumping to his feet. "Finally! First time I've gotten one of these to work!"

He suddenly remembered the presence of the Girl, and collected himself. "…Because this is the first time I've tried, of course."

The Girl smiled pleasantly.

The man sat next to the fire, staring into its depths with a small grin of confidence in his own manhood. After a moment, he glanced over at the Girl, making sure to sour his expression appropriately. "So, girl, what's your story?"

The light in the Girl's eyes dimmed. Her thoughts were hazy and muddled; she could barely recall the burning desert from less than a day before, much less anything before then.

"…Still can't talk, huh? Well, I'll just talk about me, then." He pointed back at the wagon with his thumb. "All that back there, those bags and boxes you were sitting next to? Those're my goods. I'm a merchant, you see. Trading, selling, making money. That's my thing. I'm going to Plegia Harbor to close a sale, and then I'm going back home. Now, I'll take you with me as far as the harbor, but then you're on your own." He stared into the fire again, his expression softening somewhat. "I… feel kinda bad for you, but the harbor is a social hub, I'm sure you'll find… a job, at least. Maybe you can even find a way home from there, I dunno." His eyes lit up. "Wait, I've got a few friends in the harbor. I could get one of 'em to help you out, probably." He cleared his throat. "I mean, I could dump you off on 'em."

The Girl smiled, nodding with understanding.

"Now… get some sleep!" he demanded, and he started unfurling his sleeping bag. "I won't have you bugging me with all your loud snoring once we get going in the morning…"

The rumbling of the wagon was rhythmic and pleasant, nearly lulling the Girl to sleep on several occasions. Each time, she was brought back from the brink by the merchant, who would sporadically converse with, more or less, himself, since the Girl could not respond.

"I tell ya, Plegia's had a rough market lately! Ever since the…"

"Valm is where it's at, these days. Economy's booming over there. Heard the same thing about Ylisse too, but why the hell would I want…"

"D'you keep up with sports…?"

"My wife told me, right before I left, that she was pregnant. Can you believe it, girl? Me, a father!" The merchant laughed, glancing over his shoulder at the Girl. "I'm going to have a boy! Well, I don't know if it'll be a boy. Really hope it is, though, 'cause I wanna raise him just like my pop raised me!"

The Girl smiled.

The next three days were more of the same: the merchant's stories, and the Girl's rapt attention to them. She would smile at his jokes and meet his eye whenever he turned around.

"Girl," said the merchant one day, "I've been driving you around for four days, and dammit if I didn't say you've grown on me. I'm gonna miss you when you're gone, not gonna lie."

The Girl turned serious, her mouth working. "I… will… miss you."

The merchant turned around in surprise, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Holy hell, she speaks! Hahaha!" He faced forward again. "I don't reckon you opened some kinda verbal floodgate, but it's nice to hear your voice for once."

The Girl giggled.

"Well! Now I know that you can speak, but you're not exactly bursting with vocabulary," the merchant said gleefully. "Guess I've gotta take it upon myself to teach you some words."

The Girl nodded excitedly.

"Word number one! 'Profit.' That means, you sell something, and you get money out of it. That's my profession!" The merchant was enthusiastic. "Oh, word number two: 'profession.' It just means 'job'."

The Girl beamed, taking mental notes.

"That's a nice smile there, girl! You're gonna go places with that." He raised three fingers. "Anyway, word number three: 'bullshit'…"

"Hey. Hey, Girl." The merchant glanced over his shoulder at the Girl, who was just waking up from a nap. "Look ahead."

The Girl squinted, and could barely make out a glinting light on the far horizon.

"It's Plegia Harbor," said the merchant. "That's our destination."

The Girl frowned sadly. "So… soon…"

"We had a whole week, girl," the merchant replied, smiling wanly. "You know what they say about all good things! …Oh wait, no you don't. The saying is, 'all good things must come to an end.'"

"But… why…?"

The merchant frowned. "I'm sorry, dear, but that's just the way things are. I've got a family I have to get back to. You probably have one, too. If you do, I really hope you find them."

"Family…" the Girl murmured.

The merchant smiled sadly. "Word number two-fifty-six: 'Family.' It's the most important thing in the world. It means the people that are closest to you; that will love you and care for you. Family is somethin' everyone has, but no one really appreciates until they've lost them." He pointed declaratively at her. "Remember, Girl: family is something that's earned. It doesn't have to be actual blood relatives. It can transcend that." He smiled. "Having a child on the way… really puts things in perspective, y'know?"

The Girl nodded, blinking away tears.

"Be strong, darling." The merchant turned around. "You're a big girl. You'll make it just fine without me."

A scrawny man, who clearly hadn't seen a shaving razor in a few days, met her and the merchant at the window. "Ah, it's you! What brings you to the neighborhood, friend?"

"I've got a sale to make a few blocks down," said the merchant, gesturing with his thumb. He placed a hand on the Girl's shoulder. "But I picked up this here straggler on the way. No memories, barely any words; rocking the whole 'amnesia' thing."

"Mmhm, mmhm," said the friend, looking her up and down. "She ain't from around here, I tell you what. She's got them nice earrings, and besides, I know the ins and outs of this town; if she was from here, I'd know 'er, fer sure."

"Well, I was hoping you could maybe take care of her for a while, or take her somewhere that can," the merchant said.

"For as loyal a friend as you, anything," the friend said with a sideways grin.

The merchant reached through the window, shaking his friend's hand and smiling. "Thanks a million," he said. He then turned to the Girl, taking her by the shoulders and looking her in the eye. "Now, remember! If you're ever in town, ask around for Martin. That's me, I'm Martin. We'll grab dinner or somethin', or maybe I could take you to meet the family once things have settled down back home." He grinned. "Good luck, Girl. You'll find a family, whether it's blood or not. I just know it." He put a hand on her cheek affectionately. "Now… I gotta go, before…. you get all teary-eyed. See you around, Girl."

Martin the Merchant gave her a brief salute, and then he was gone.

The Girl watched him go, a great melancholy spreading through her. "Family," she murmured to herself.

"Oy!" the friend said, snapping her out of her trance. "Aight, so here's how this'll go. I've got this letter," and he produced said letter, "and I need it delivered. If you go and deliver this for me, I'll help you out; I'll tell the authorities about you, and they can put the word out, making you way easier to find if you've got family somewhere." The Girl reached for the letter, but he pulled it away at the last moment. "But! If you skip town on me, I ain't helpin' you. Not a word outta me to anyone."

The Girl nodded rapidly, and took the letter. The friend gave her the necessary directions, and she was off.