Except: Life at a Refugee Camp

Life as a refugee is hard; being the coordinator for the camp that holds the refugees is harder.

At least, that's was the thought that ran through Maria's head as she sat, hunched over a desk filled with paperwork. Why the countries near the camp insisted on having her do copious amounts of paperwork was beyond her. "Perhaps it's just for their own senates to show how the war is going on," she mused, knowing it was anything but for the betterment of the people in the camp.

Maria sighed, followed by the noise of a chair scraping the floor. She gave a small stretch. "Paperwork sure is boring," she muttered. Maria took in a deep breath and continued her thought. "But if it helps save a few lives, then I don't mind doing it. Though, I wonder;" she said, before placing a hand on her pregnant belly, "if this is the right place to raise a child."

She set to work on organizing the papers into piles. When she was nearly completed with her work, the window behind her suddenly spontaneously shattered into pieces. Maria gave an aggravated sigh and walked as quickly as she could to the door. When she opened the door, what she saw was going to be an ensuing duel between two beings, one a human, the other an elf.

"It's all your Kouzlans fault that this blasted war started!" the human said, accusingly. "Us? We have done nothing wrong. It is your fault, the Mutums," countered the elf, "We should have known that humans would one day decide to attack!"

Maria, known to be brash when these types of things happen, stepped in before this verbal fight, turned violent; there was still someone who needed to pay for breaking that window.

Maria went up behind the two sophomoric adolescent males and grabbed their ears, twisting it so it would hurt. They would pay attention to her now. Both seem to squirm under her gaze and even more so when she spoke.

"This war hasn't been easy. I know that the lot of us have had their fair amount of troubles, but that doesn't give you the right to take it out on the other side. I created this camp so it would be a save haven for those without homes, no matter what side of the war they are from. That basis of this camp isn't going to start deviating from its original value anytime soon. And if you both can't respect each other, then, at least, respect the fact of why the camp was started and that you both live in it.

"If you can't, then I may have to send you away and all three of us know that that isn't what I want to do. But I can't have chaos take over this camp. Who will take care of the emaciated children if that were to happen? Surely not their families; they are either lay dead or are dying from hunger, disease, war. Surely not random strangers, who have enough of their own problems than to worry about taking care of orphans.

"I don't mean to chastise you both, but this fight is ridiculous! We all know that there is one out now and a whole lot bigger. Now, both of you," she said, letting go of their ears, "You don't have to apologize to one another but I want you to make it up to me and this camp and fix that window." She then pointed behind her towards the shack that housed her, her husband, and the administrative part of the camp.

They both looked at her and toward each other. "Sorry, madam. We'll fix it right now," they both said. Maria nodded. "Apology accepted." She then turned to the crowd that had gathered. "Let that be a lesson to everybody! I will not tolerate fighting here; that is for the battlefield. Please remember that."

Everyone nodded and went back to whatever they were doing before the distraction. Maria sighed and started heading over to the storage supply, before she was stopped by a man. "Ma'am." Maria turned around. "Yes sir?" "That was a poor way to treat my son."

"Excuse me?" Maria asked, a bit shocked at the sentence. "I don't think my son should be fixing a window with that Kouzlan elf." He spat out Kouzlan like it was a disgusting object that wouldn't even be spoken of. "Sir, it is their payment -their indemnity, if you will. They will accomplish that task, which is not hard, and then they are free to do whatever they will. Sir, I do not see what is the problem that you have over this fact."

At that comment, the man's face turned a tinge of red and he nearly exploded with anger. "I guess you're just lucky that you Kimians don't have to worry as much about the war," he said snidely. "Excuse me?!" Maria said, getting a bit angry herself; was it her fault that she didn't see with hatred in her eyes as he did with his?

"You heard me. But then it must be because you are not completely human nor a magical being. Your race is the mutant mix between the humanoid Kouzlan races and the Mutum. If you ask me, you're nothing better than a slimy, mutant, unwanted little bit--"

PUNCH!

"Honey, stop!" Maria said, reaching for her husband's hands to try to stop him from attacking the man. The man happened to be sprawled on the ground. He got up, dusted himself, and rubbed the spot where Scott punched him. "You can say all you like about me, my race, and even about this camp," Scott said, narrowing his eyes at the man, "but don't go after my wife."

The man glared at the couple and slunk away from them, muttering, "Bloody Kimians..." Scott placed a hand on Maria's waist and carefully led her to the storage shack. There they decided on which supplies to allocate to and how many of each. They made small talk with the cooks; there was even a joke or two on how the food was finally palatable and didn't smell poignant like rotting garbage.

But Scott knew Maria enough to know that she was still upset about incident with the man, so he quickly helped her make her rounds around camp. When they were finally alone in their shack, Scott held her close to him. Maria buried her head into his chest. "What type of world do we live in if we fight others just because of who they were born to?" she said, crying.