Chapter 11 #3
By the third night, the children stopped running from me. They didn’t approach, but they stayed put, watching me with giant, hungry eyes. I tried to give my small meals to different kids every night, spreading the food around to as many children as I could. Some were so young it hurt to see them.
On the fifth night, I tried talking to them. Not directly. I didn’t want to scare them off. But when I set the food package down near them, I would talk in low tones, keeping my eyes on the ground.
“I’m Bones. I’m the healer. If you’re ever sick or hurt, come to the clinic.”
Another few nights passed before the first tiny person slipped through the clinic door so quietly I didn’t hear them. I nearly jumped out of my skin, and the little girl jumped too, her clothes hanging off her thin frame. Her pale blue eyes took up most of her face. She retreated toward the door.
“It’s okay,” I blurted out, trying to think of a way to keep her from running. I sank to the floor, crossing my legs in front of me. “You just scared me a little.”
She eyed me. I could tell she had a fever simply by looking at her flushed cheeks and glassy eyes.
“I’m Bones,” I said. “What’s your name?”
She didn’t answer for a long while, but I forced myself to wait.
“Apple,” she whispered.
“Hi, Apple,” I said. “Are you hurt? Or sick?”
She chewed on her lip for a few seconds, then pulled her filthy sleeve up to reveal an infected gash in her arm.
“Ouch,” I murmured. “That looks like it hurts.”
She hesitated, then nodded.
“Did you know I can do magic?” I asked. “I can make that go away. You wanna see?”
Her eyes got even larger. I waited, and after about a minute, she tentatively approached me. I held out my hands, palms up, and let her place her injured arm into them.
“It won’t even hurt,” I whispered. “Watch.”
I gently grasped her arm. She startled when that warmth flowed into her, her small mouth falling open as she watched the oozing wound slowly close and disappear, leaving a small, indented scar.
I let go as soon as it healed, folding my hands into my lap.
She touched the scar with a filthy finger and then looked back at me, her eyes clear again.
For a moment we stared at each other. She had to be about five or six years old, with dirty blond hair and those huge blue eyes.
I wanted to ask her how she got that wound, what happened to her parents, and where she slept at night, but I knew that would scare her away.
I stayed quiet and unmoving until she backed to the door, cracking it open.
She spared a glance outside, checking for Trey, I assumed. A second later, she vanished.
The next night, Apple brought two little boys with red, infected eyes nearly crusted shut. It took some convincing before they let me heal them, but once the first one went, the second quickly followed. Apple even gave me a tiny, shy smile before the three of them slid out the door.
I sat on the floor for a few minutes after they left.
I never would have been able to do something like this with Juck.
I still wasn’t happy to be here, but this felt like something good.
I could do something really, truly good here.
Something no one else cared to do. I took a deep breath, my mind made up.
I wasn’t gonna stay, but I could stay through the winter.
I could find a way to deal with my soul being shredded during torture sessions if it meant I could make sure these kids survived until spring.
It snowed for the first time three days later.
When I set out for my evening “errands,” huge snowflakes drifted through the air.
I’d only seen snow once before, so I walked a little slower, holding my hand out and admiring the flakes that landed on my thick mitten.
Apple met me in the narrow alley between the stables and the blacksmith, where we’d planned.
The number of kids kept growing. I’d started saving half of my breakfast ration to divide up with my whole dinner ration, but it still wasn’t enough.
I learned from talking to them that in the summer and early fall, they could eat fallen fruit from the fruit trees and sneak a few vegetables from the garden or a couple of eggs from a chicken nest. Now that winter approached, those options had disappeared.
The chickens who ran free through the spring, summer, and fall had been confined to a coop in the giant barn.
All the fruit trees had been stripped bare and the fields were barren.
And despite my help, every night only a third of them got food.
They took turns fairly well, but I knew sometimes fights broke out after I left because I healed the injuries.
Apple had become a tiny leader of sorts.
She organized the kids into groups, ones who got food and ones who needed healing.
I passed out the rations and then set to work healing all the scrapes and burns and bruises and rattling coughs.
I always used my powers, no matter how small the wound.
I doubted they would voluntarily show up for stitches.
“It’s a good thing Madame gave Mac that chance,” an older boy named Atlas said as I healed his twisted ankle.
My brow furrowed. “What chance?”
“The chance to save Trey.”
“What?” I asked, my heart pounding.
“He got arrested. Mac bartered to get him out.”
“Why was he arrested?”
“I dunno.” He shrugged. “But she was pissed. She wanted to execute him.”
My mind spun. Why hadn’t I heard about this?
“Trey was part of the uprising,” Apple added in a whisper from where she’d appeared by my elbow.
“The uprising?” I asked, skin prickling.
“The people goin’ against Madame,” she whispered.
I’d figured out that much. As much as I tried to stay out of it, I couldn’t help hearing the questions Madame asked during torture sessions.
It wasn’t much of a reach to assume she was trying to root out rebels, and of course Trey would be a part of it.
He was exactly the kind of hopeful dreamer that rebellions snatched up for their cause.
“Aren’t you helping Mist?” Atlas asked.
I froze, my hands lingering on his ankle.
The pieces snapped into place with terrifying clarity. That’s what the food was for. Mist was stealing the food to feed them—the people who couldn’t eat at the canteen because they couldn’t work. There was no grand conspiracy. She was simply feeding people.
And feeding people was defiance.
I knew that. I’d learned it the hard way. Food had never been food to me—it had been leverage. Punishment. A reminder of who decided whether you were worth keeping alive. Juck hadn’t needed chains when he could withhold meals. Hunger trained fast.
A sick warmth spread through my middle. I’d stumbled straight into the rebellion without even realizing it.
“I’m just…sharing,” I said finally, the words coming out thin. “My food.”
Apple and Atlas both blinked at me.
“This is your food?” Atlas frowned, glancing at the tiny portions.
“It’s okay,” I said quickly, the old reflex snapping into place. Downplay. Deflect. Survive. “I have enough for myself. What did you mean? What chance? What did Mac do?”
“Mac said he’d go get Juck’s secret weapon and give it to her if she let Trey go.” Apple’s eyes were serious in the dim light.
My heart sank. “And she agreed to that?”
Atlas shrugged again. “Everybody wanted the secret weapon. We thought it was gonna be a magic potion.”
“No, you thought it was gonna be a magic ring,” Apple corrected him.
Atlas scowled at her. “It coulda been. There’s magic rings in stories.”
Apple didn’t look convinced.
“But it’s good she gave ’em the chance, ’cause we got you,” Atlas said with innocent confidence.
I tried to smile, but I wasn’t sure I managed it. Mac’s words ran through my head.
You’re not the only one who doesn’t have a choice, Bones. Maybe if you stopped trying to be a godsdamned martyr, you’d see that.
A new thought struck me, and I went cold all over. Was Trey still a part of the rebellion? Would I enter the dungeon one night and see Trey in that chair? Would I be forced to watch Madame carve him up until he screamed? I couldn’t…I couldn’t—
“Bones?” Atlas whispered, jolting me out of my panic. Both he and Apple were staring at me with wide, anxious eyes.
I wrestled the emotion down, feeling shaky. “How do you know all of this?”
“We hear things,” Atlas said.
“And see things,” Apple added, her eyes haunted.
Gods, I didn’t want to know what sort of things these kids had been exposed to.
I took a breath and finished healing Atlas, then moved on to a tiny, frail girl with a sprained wrist. Her hands were icy cold, and without a second thought, I grabbed my mittens out of my pocket and put them on her small hands after I finished.
I needed to figure out a way to clothe these kids better.
None of them had appropriate attire for the upcoming winter.
I wondered if I could get away with having them sleep in my loft at night.
“Oh, Bones!” Apple chirped. “Look what I found!” She pulled a perfect, tiny acorn out of her pocket and presented it to me, beaming. “It’s for you!”
“Thank you,” I murmured, taking it from her freezing little hand. “That’s—”
The sound of footsteps crunching through the snow from one end of the alley made all their little heads snap up.
A figure stepped out of the darkness and they took off like a flock of startled birds.
Only Apple stayed at my side, near vibrating with fear and a strange protective anger.
I stepped in front of her to shield her, but Trey emerged from the darkness, eyes wide as he watched the kids disappear.
“Is this what you’ve been doin’ every night?” he asked.
I got defensive. “Why?”
He looked startled at my tone. “ ’Cause I’d have helped you if you asked.”
I clamped down on the rising well of emotion in my throat. “I don’t need help.”
Those sad brown eyes cut like a knife. “Bones, c’mon. How long are you gonna do this?”