Mallon was only a bite into his food when it happened. One of the owners came up and snatched the plate away, then took away half of it and gave Mallon back his now significantly smaller portion. The little boy's stomach growled in protest, but what could Mallon say? Give me back my food? I want to be whipped? Kill me now, please? Mallon watched unhappily as the man took his food and gave it to... Mallon glared. Another slave? A new one, at that. He was small, but he wasn't stupid. He knew what another slave meant. It would mean another mouth to feed, and as Mallon glanced at his plate, he knew it would also mean less food for him. The one responsible for his halved rations was a small Tiefling girl. Exhausted, cheeks still streaked with tears. She'd been forced to walk the entire way back to the caravan from the alchemist's hut she was sold from, hands tied together, lead between the slaver's two horses. She didn't move, didn't dare sit down until she was sure she was allowed. The caravan owner shoved the horse's reins into Mallon's hands. Mallon took the reins without protest, even though he knew he was losing out on their spare eating time allowed. "Show her what to do." As soon as the owner walked away, Mallon turned and glared ferociously at the girl. She hadn't just taken his food. She had also taken away the only time he had to eat what little he had left! He hoped she felt uncomfortable under the glower he was sending her, and he hoped she had heard what the owner said because he wasn't about to go over and coax her to come with him. He wasn't here to make other people's lives better. He was here to make his last as long as he could. He turned and walked away without a word. The girl quickly followed him to the stables. She could tell the boy was young-- about six, by the looks of him-- but he also had a strong spirit. She could tell that because of how hatefully he was staring at her, but she was used to that. Her mother had said that was the way it was for their race. Suspicion and hateful stares. Her mother had accepted it. Her mother was dead now. The Tiefling reached out and softly took the reins of one of the horses. "You can have your share back. I'm not really that hungry." Mallon glanced at her, annoyed. Who was she to think she could come in here being nice? "It doesn't matter if you give me back my dinner for tonight," he huffed. "You'll have to eat eventually, and unless you're some kind of god," he glanced suspiciously at her, looked her up and down, then shook his head, as if the idea was absurd, "then you're going to have to eat. And when you do, they'll take away my food and give it to you." He stopped moving for a second, turning to look at her again. "What did they see in you, anyway?" The Tiefling knew the answer to that immediately. "Horns." Mallon snorted. "Well duh they saw horns. They're not exactly hidden, are they? But I meant, why did they buy you? You're not of age to bear children." Then, he looked at her again, and squinted his eyes. "Are you?" The Tiefling blinked. Whoever this boy was, he definitely was unlike any six-year-old she'd encountered before. "I'm eight." "I'm six," he said matter-of-factly and puffed out his chest as if boasting about it. "What's your name?" He said suddenly, obviously not troubled at all to suddenly change topics. It seemed like he'd completely forgotten about his previous question, and, truth be told, he had. The Tiefling hesitated. "If I tell you my name, does that mean we can be friends?" Mallon thought about this. Did knowing a person's name mean you and them were friends? But then, he knew a lot of people's names. He knew some of the slave owners' names, and they hurt him. "No," he decided. "I don't think names have anything to do with friendship. But we can be friends anyways." The Tiefling smiled a little. Slowly, she felt the tiny pieces of her soul move closer to re-forming. "Edana." Mallon scrunched up his nose. "That's a weird name." He turned to look at her and held out his hand. "My name's Mallon and I'm very handsome. Nice to meet you." Edana suppressed a smile. "Do you even know what the word handsome means?" Mallon shrugged, turning and walking forward in the direction of the stables. "I dunno. The old lady in the market called me it once. It was the only time the masters took me with them into town. She said it while she was smiling at me, so I guess it couldn't have been a bad thing."
Edana chuckled a little. "That's really clever of you." she watched the way he undid the belts and clasps of his horse's riding tack with swift, deft movements that spoke of years of experience as she fumbled with her own. "you've been doing this for a long time."
"I've been doing it since I was three," he said proudly. "That's... how long I've been here." He paused, frowning at the ground. He looked up at her again. "There was another boy that used to do it with me! He was my age. He got trambled by the horse three months ago. His name was Edric."
Edana frowned. The boy, Mallon, said it so matter-of-factly like that was an everyday occurrence. Then again, she was the daughter of an Alchemist's ingredient source, so she figured she wasn't one to judge.
Mallon lugged a bucket full of water from one corner of the stall towards the horse's trough. He had to drag it along the ground, then grab it by the bottom using both hands to dump it. He had wondered, several times, why they had a little kid doing these jobs. It would be much faster with someone bigger doing it, but he wasn't going to complain. It had kept him alive this long, hadn't it? He also thought an older person could probably steal a horse and run. Mallon wished he was bigger. Maybe then he could've protected himself.
One of the horses bent down to drink beside him, Edana still watching quietly, detached. The alchemist hadn't kept children, saw no value in them. Seeing a boy so young doing a job she had only grown up watching adults doing was disorienting and confusing, especially knowing it was soon to be her job as well.
Mallon glanced over at Edana, studying the girl. She was alright, he supposed. It seemed like she could be quiet, but she wasn't one of those people who never talked either. She was currently struggling to remove the saddle from the horse. She was trying not to make it look obvious, but Malik could tell that she definitely didn't know what she was doing. She was frowning at the saddle, covertly fiddling with the strap when she thought he wasn't looking, and flinching back when the horse shifted.
"He's probably not going to trample you," Mallon offered, and Edana shot him a quick glare.
"Didn't the last person who helped you get trampled?"
"If you're quick on your feet, you'll be fine. Edric was a slowpoke. I always beat him in races." Mallon smiled proudly.
Edana gave the horse another suspicious look. "Do they do anything to let you know they might go wild? Or do they just..." She waved her hand in a vague gesture.
Mallon shrugged. "Most of the time they won't do anything unless we do something. Edric scared the horse."
"Why did he do that?"
"I dared him to. He had to do one dare for me because I won a race against him."
Edana looked around the horse at Mallon. He looked sheepish, but not guilty. She briefly considered telling him Edric might be alive if he hadn't made the dare but saw in her mind's eye how his expression would crumble, and her vocal cords seized up. She started to pull at the saddle. The horse snorted as the leather dragged against its skin. Edana felt herself jump back again, but shook her head and set her hands to it again. The horse was new, unpredictable, but the slavers weren't. She knew what the outcome would be if they found the horses still in their tack the next morning.
Mallon stared straight up at the saddle. It was heavy, and usually, Mallon needed someone else to help him get it down. Edana seemed to fare a bit better, managing the drag it off the horse's back, but still staggering under the weight. "Do you..." Mallon stopped. What was he doing? Offering help had never been his style. Offering help didn't keep you alive, especially when the other person was already doing fine on their own.
Edana glanced at him as if expecting him to finish his sentence, but he didn't, so she continued to struggle dragging the saddle across the barn towards the other saddles hanging up. Suddenly, the weight felt lighter, and she turned to see Mallon was lifting the other end of the saddle. She smiled at him, trying not to remember the nights when she'd come to her mother's bedside, tottering under the weight of stacks of battered books, the feeling of her closeness as they lay together and traced the lines of the pictures inside. Instead, she focused on the scent of horses that hung on Mallon's skin and said, "Thank you."
Mallon glanced at her, his mouth open a little. He blinked his eyes a few times, his eyebrows coming down into a frown as he tried to understand what had just happened. Thank you? No one ever thanked him for doing his job. He was supposed to do it, or he got hurt and didn't get to eat. He didn't really understand it and he tried to think of something in response but his brain failed him. He closed his mouth then opened it again, as if to respond, then closed it again.
He felt like his cheeks were burning, and he felt embarrassed that he didn't know what to say in response. He almost wanted to ask her what she would say back if someone thanked her, but just the thought made his cheeks burn even more, so instead, he said, "The saddle goes over here. We have to lift it onto that hook on the wall. This part is always the hardest."
Edana nodded, and lifted the saddle, shifting with Mallon as they navigated the saddle towards the hook. When it was finally hung, the two flopped back on a pile of straw. Edana tried to ignore the tiredness in her arms. Mallon tried to ignore the burn in his throat. They lay there, two kids exhausted together, hay clinging to their clothes and hair, breathing softly in time with one another.
Mallon glanced at Edana to find she had fallen asleep, exhausted from her journey there. Mallon studied her. She might not be of child-bearing age, but she was pretty, and from the way she talked, she sounded smart. Maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to have someone else there who he could trust. Maybe...
His eyes started to close, and he drifted off to sleep.
Gender:
Points: 529
Reviews: 45