Somwhere in the Arctic, 6:31 a.m.

Nathan dragged himself out of the cave and was blinded kwa the glare of the sun reflecting off the frozen tundra. He was staving- but he knew he could go a lot longer without chakula than he could with water, and thankfully he was surrounded kwa it. He fell to his knees and scooped up a handful of slush, placing it into his mouth. His teeth and gums were suddenly numb, but he toughed it out and began to songesha on. "How-how about a story? To pass the t-"
He stopped mid-sentence. "Great, now I'm taking to myself." But in his mind, he was already flashing back to one of the best moments in his life- meeting Kyra Grayson.

The streets, sidewalks and buildings dripped with the rains of the night before. With the glistening sun reflecting off them, it seemed to be the perfect start to the day.
Nathan sat in a dew-ridden park, on a bench that he'd previously wiped down with a paper towel. Anyone who knew the park knew this boy- always here, at the same time and same place. No one sat with him, considering how he might have looked; green eyes were certainly normal, but silver hair? Not a chance. Nathan, however, didn't mind. It was his bench. He ruled it.
But on this particular day, there were some newbies in town, travelers. From the hivi karibuni Haly's circus. And no one "warned" them about the bench au the boy. They assumed the new people would figure it out themselves. A family of four, with two twins, walked into the park and saw the boy. The parents understood, and whispered not to go near Nathan. One twin listened and obeyed. The other listened, but did the exact opposite of what her parents told her.
So when Nathan went off to the restroom, he returned to find a small black haired girl with glasses on his bench. His. bench.
"What are wewe doing?" he approached her. She turned to him with piercing blue eyes, her hair in pigtails on her shoulders.
"Sitting," she replied, a spark of insolence igniting in her peppy voice. "Why do wewe care?"
Nathan was slighty taken aback, but regained himself. "That's my bench," he bristled indignantly, "so get off it."
"Your bench?" she chirped. "You bought it?"
"Well, no, but I-"
"Then how come it's yours? Don't'cha wanna share?" She smiled and scooted over to the wet side, patting the dry part. "C'mon."
Nathan hesistated. Why was this girl being so nice to him? He got on and sat down, and turned to find a small hand streched to him. "My name's Kyra. Kyra Grayson. What's your's?"
He looked at Kyra's outreached hand, then grasped and shook it. It was nice... warm, soft. "Uh..um... Nathan Stone. Nathan. I'm ten," he added, in the spur of the moment.
"Cool. I'm nine." She grinned, but her face fell as her mother called to her. "I gotta go," she explained.
"Oh... will I ever see wewe again?"
"Yeah, probab- oh! Come to the circus tonight!" She dug in her pocket and handed him a pink stub of paper. "I work there!"
"You work? At a circus?" Nathan asked.
"Mmhmm!" Another call. "Nice ta meet ya, Nate. Oh, and I like your hair. Silver's awesome."
Finally, a third yell, and Kyra sprinted away, but not without doing a quick triple backflip to onyesha off. Nathan gaped in awe, then snapped back to reality. He hastened to yell to the quickly fading figure.
"It's Nathan, not Nate!"

Nathan grinned at the thought. Then he was knocked into the deep oblivion of the freezing ice land.