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> “He says he can fight. I wanna see.” Eliot stood in front of Mara’s sack.
Mara placed his blade on the sack and went to stand. Eliot pushed him back down.
Eliot grinned. “Come on, what you doing down there?”
Mara tried again, but Eliot did the same. Eliot was much bigger than him, almost the size of a man. Mara looked at Joseph, who smirked.
Balin stood and pulled on Eliot’s shoulder. “Leave him.”
Eliot pushed Balin away. “I’ll fuck you up. Just like I did before.”
Balin stayed back, and Eliot turned back to Mara. “Come on then, up.”
Mara stood and looked to the other two boys.
“They ain’t gonna help you.” Eliot stepped forward, fists clenched.
Mara’s back hit the door when he stepped away. Eliot lunged forward with a jab. Mara ducked and dived for his sack, Eliot’s fist hitting the door.
“You fucking idiot.” Joseph quickly lay down and pulled over his sheet.
Balin did the same as Eliot hurried back to his sack.
A Shadow opened the door, stepped in, and looked around. “Outside.”
Sandy water covered Mara’s feet as he and the three teenagers stood in a courtyard, thunder booming above them. Mara had never been in rain like it. It stung his face and hands. He was cold, his thin black clothes sticking to him like a new skin.
A Shadow watched over them, black mask shining brightly when the lightning came. It didn’t seem bothered by the rain and didn’t shiver like him or the other boys.
Another Shadow joined them. “Making an impression on your new roommates, I see, Mara.”
It’s him.
“As for you three, I was led to believe we were past this.” It stepped forward.
A loud crack of thunder came with a bright flash of lightning. When Mara’s eyes recovered, Eliot was on his knees holding his belly. With the next flash, Balin was down too. Joseph got the same.
The Shadow stepped in front of Mara. “Now you see what happens when rules are broken. I will expect better from you. Your room is for sleeping, nothing else.” It turned and walked away.
Mara looked at the boys. All three winced and moaned in the water. This was all your fault. You deserve it.
Silas waited in a small, dusty room while the doctor collected his equipment. He’d attempted to stitch the wound himself, but the angle had made it near impossible to make a decent job of it. The journey to Boomsvale hadn’t been kind on it either, constantly rubbed and stretched by the saddle.
The doctor held out a hand above the pitted workbench; it looked like it had been used for carpentry rather than an operating table. “If you would.”
Bottle in hand, Silas sat, took a swig, and lay sideways, the cheap whiskey burning his throat.
“Ready? This will hurt.” The doctor bent toward Silas’s leg.
“Hang on.” Silas leant up and took another swig from the bottle. “Okay.” Perhaps I should have downed the bottle.
Silas clenched his jaw and twitched involuntarily as the doctor wiped at the wound. “Fuck.”
“Breathe deeply,” the doctor said in a tone that made him sound bored.
What the fuck is he doing that with?
“Okay.” The doctor poured liquid onto the leg, then put pressure on the wound. “A slight sting.”
