Jitters 's Arc

Chapter 4 of 4

Jitters crouched beside the bathhouse entrance, running his claws along a set of carved handholds built into the stone wall. Someone had chiseled them at different heights so creatures of any size could climb in safely. He traced the smooth grooves and imagined monsters pulling themselves up from dark places, one grip at a time. This wasn't decoration—it was function that showed care. His flame brightened as he realized his safe haven needed more of this: small details that helped without drawing attention. A monster arriving here broken and tired wouldn't need fancy words or bright signs. They'd need a wall they could actually climb. He stood and walked toward a tree growing near the bathhouse clearing. Its branches drooped low, forming a natural shelter underneath. The shade felt cool against his turquoise fur, and the space beneath was large enough for several monsters to sit together. Jitters pulled out his notebook and sketched the wide canopy. This could be where creatures waited before entering the bathhouse—somewhere quiet to gather their thoughts. The tree had probably stood here for years, ignored by everyone walking past. Now it had a job to do. As dusk settled over the clearing, thin vines along the bathhouse wall began to glow softly. Small yellow pods dotted the stems, each one giving off just enough light to outline the path. Jitters hadn't noticed them during the day, but now they lit the way from the tree to the entrance. He touched one of the pods and felt its warmth. Monsters coming here at night wouldn't stumble in the dark. They'd follow these lights right to the door. Another piece that already existed, waiting to help. On his walk back into town, Jitters spotted a building he'd seen a hundred times but never really looked at. It stood painted in bright colors with curved walls and a shape that reminded him of a friendly face. The structure looked nothing like the gray council offices or the plain storefronts around it. Someone had built it to feel welcoming instead of serious. He stopped and stared at it, his flame crackling. That's what his safe haven needed to become—a place that told struggling monsters they belonged before they even stepped inside. Not through words, but through walls that didn't look like every other building trying to fix them. He added one final sketch to his notebook and headed home, his pockets still empty but his plan growing solid.