The village was abuzz with quiet gossip. Ever since the tiny, black-and-blue scorpion had started showing up, villagers couldn't help but notice. He would scuttle around, always looking like he had some purpose, darting in and out of view like a shy guest who'd lost his way.
Each person had their own theory about the little creature, and as days passed, Blue had unintentionally become a minor celebrity in the village.
Hanna was the first to spot Blue in the bakery, and ever since, she had been keeping an eye out for him. "I think he's harmless," she insisted, kneading dough as she chatted with her mother. "Every time I see him, he just scuttles away. If he was dangerous, he would've done something by now."
Her mother raised an eyebrow. "Hanna, that thing is still a scorpion, no matter how cute it looks."
Hanna chuckled, brushing flour off her hands. "But he's so tiny! And have you seen his little pincers? He's practically adorable!"
Her mother just shook her head, sighing. "Adorable or not, scorpions aren't meant to be house pets."
But Hanna didn't care. She was determined to keep an eye out for her little "friend," hoping he'd come back to visit the bakery again.
Garvin wasn't nearly as forgiving. The scorpion had shown up in his workshop more than once, always lurking near his tools or scurrying along the workbench. He swore it was making fun of him, especially when it bumped its head on things and then scurried away like nothing happened.
"That scorpion's up to something, I tell ya," he muttered to his apprentice as he hammered a piece of metal. "Every time I look away, it's back in my workshop, poking around like it owns the place."
The apprentice chuckled, wiping sweat from his brow. "Come on, Garvin. It's just a little critter. Maybe it's curious."
Garvin huffed, squinting into the shadows where he thought he saw a faint shimmer of black and blue scales. "Curious or not, I don't trust it. Last thing I need is it climbing into my toolbox and biting my hand."
But secretly, he was a bit curious himself. After all, it wasn't every day a tiny scorpion made itself at home in a blacksmith's shop.
Mira's mother had mixed feelings. Her daughter had taken an instant liking to the little scorpion, calling it "Mister Scorpion" and eagerly looking for it every time they went outside. She'd tried to keep Mira away at first, worried that it might sting her. But so far, the little creature had been harmless.
"It's strange," she said to her husband as they sat by the fire one evening. "Every time Mira sees that scorpion, she runs to it, and it just… sits there, watching her. It's almost like it understands her."
Her husband chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "Kids have a way of making friends with everything. If that scorpion had a bit of a softer shell, she'd probably hug it."
Mira's mother smiled, shaking her head. "It's odd, though. I've never seen an animal like it—black and blue scales, moving like it has somewhere to be. It doesn't feel like a normal creature."
Her husband shrugged. "Maybe it's some kind of magical beast. We live close enough to the forest. Could've wandered in by mistake."
She nodded, though she wasn't entirely convinced. She didn't believe in coincidences, and something about that little scorpion seemed strangely… purposeful.
Eren was one of Blue's favorite observers, though he didn't know it. He'd had a few encounters with Blue at night, watching him skitter around with those shiny scales glinting in the moonlight. Eren was convinced that Blue was on some sort of mission.
"He's like a spy," Eren whispered to his friends one afternoon as they sat under a tree, eating bread. "I bet he's gathering information on us, like some secret agent."
One of his friends snickered. "A scorpion spy? Eren, you read too many adventure books."
Eren shook his head, his eyes wide with excitement. "I'm serious! He's always sneaking around, and he bumps into things whenever he tries to hide. It's like he's learning to act like us."
His friends exchanged skeptical looks, but they listened with interest as Eren went on about his theories. "Just you wait. One day, we'll find out that little scorpion's been keeping tabs on the whole village."
They all laughed, though Eren couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to the tiny creature that everyone had been spotting.
The village elder was perhaps the most amused by all the fuss. Sitting by the well, he listened to the various villagers as they shared their theories and worries about the little scorpion.
"Some say it's a magical creature," Rina, the daycare worker, said as she passed by, holding a child on her hip.
"Others think it's a sign, some sort of omen from the forest," added Hanna's mother.
The elder chuckled, his wrinkled face creasing into a smile. "Maybe it's just a curious little creature, drawn to the lights and sounds of the village. Not every mystery has a grand answer, you know."
Garvin the blacksmith, who had joined the conversation, folded his arms and huffed. "It might be small, but I don't trust it. Who knows what it's after, crawling around like that?"
The elder gave him a knowing smile. "And yet, it hasn't caused any harm. Perhaps it simply wants to understand us, just as we want to understand it."
The villagers murmured, some nodding thoughtfully, others still looking uncertain. The elder's words seemed to calm most of them, though the curiosity lingered in their eyes.
As the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the village, the elder leaned back, his gaze drifting toward the edge of the forest. There, just barely visible in the shadows, he thought he saw a small, black-and-blue figure watching them.
He smiled softly, giving a small nod. "Whatever it is, it's part of our lives now, like a guest passing through."
The villagers went about their evening, some still curious, others more cautious. But one thing was certain—the mysterious little scorpion had become a part of their small village, a source of quiet intrigue and unexpected amusement.
And as Blue scuttled away, slipping back into the tall grass with a bump or two along the way, he had no idea just how many lives he'd touched with his tiny, silent presence.