The street wound down into a valley where there was the skeleton of an old farm house. It would have been full of life in its day—cattle lowing, children playing barefoot in the fields, smoke billowing from the chimney. The walls were now shattered, the roof fallen in, and the well evaporated, its stones cracked.
Kael moved quietly, the broken sword weighing on his hip. The black crow that had followed him from the field flew once overhead and vanished into the gray. The silence fell in again, except for the rustle of wind through broken timbers.
And then he heard it.
A shout. Far. Human.
Kael froze, his hand clenching involuntarily around the sword hilt. The scream sounded again, more shrieking this time, with pain and defiance. He advanced hesitantly forward, circumventing the ruined wall, and what he saw nauseated him.
A girl.
She was bound to a splintered pole, wrists bound in iron cuffs that had reduced her skin to rawness. Her hair was dark and matted, her dress tattered and dust-stained. Two men guarded her, armor dented, faces flushed with mirth. One threw stale bread bits at her feet, the other spat, jeering at her for not speaking.
"Eat, little rat," one sneered. "Tomorrow you'll have no mouth left to chew with."
The girl lifted her chin, her eyes sharp despite the bruises. "Better starve than take food from pigs."
The soldier's hand cracked across her cheek, the sound ringing in the still air. She didn't cry out, only glared harder, her defiance brighter than any flame.
Kael's blood raged. His instinct was to get out of there—he'd managed this long by being invisible. These were soldiers, armed and vicious, and he was one boy with a broken sword. But something in the girl's look pinned him where he stood. He had looked into countless eyes that had contained fear before. This was not fear. This was flames.
When the soldiers finally grew bored and wandered off toward the trees, Kael crept closer. His steps were hesitant, each one loud in his ears.
The girl turned her head sharply at the sound, her gaze locking onto him. Suspicion flared. "Another one come to stare at the chained girl?" she spat, her voice raw but steady.
Kael shook his head quickly. "No. I'm not with them."
"Then what are you?" Her eyes narrowed. "A scavenger? A coward who hides while others bleed?"
Kael flinched. The words hit too close. He didn't answer. Instead, he stepped to the post, drawing the broken sword. The girl tensed, chains rattling as she pulled back.
"I'm not here to hurt you," Kael said quickly, his voice low. "Hold still."
The sword blade raked against the chain. Shadows flowed like ink, inky tendrils crawling around the iron links. The metal hissed, groaned, and cracked.
The girl gasped, stepping forward as her wrists were freed. She brought them close, massaging the sensitive skin, her eyes wide as she gazed at the burnt chain on the ground. She met Kael's eyes.
"Why?" she panted.
Kael blinked. Nobody had ever asked him that before. He didn't know. He didn't even know that. He should have left her. He should have left like he always did. But something in him had broken.
Finally, he growled, "Because I couldn't just. leave you."
The girl looked at him for a long time. Suspicion eased, a bit.
"My name is Liora," she said, her voice stronger now.
Kael stopped. Names weren't safe. But she had given him hers. ".Kael."
Liora smiled, as one acknowledged an agreement that had never been heard. She bent, picked up a chunk of splintered wood on the ground, and stood holding it club-like. "If those pigs come back, we run together."
Kael almost smiled, though his chest still hurt. "Together," he said.
He was not alone for the first time in too long.