Raj snuck out into a quiet morning, under the amber glow of the rising sun. Only a few people lingered near their homes, stretching, or staring up at the cliffs. A few cleaned off pushcarts, or quietly washed laundry. Raj looked back at the house, where Helgid and Samel still slept. He wouldn't be gone long enough for them to worry.
Reaching into his pocket, he squeezed the object that Adriana gave him—his excuse to visit her again.
He took the path toward her house, following the same route he'd taken the day before, replaying their conversations in his head. He thought about the memory she'd shared of her grandmother. She'd said that they'd had tea each morning, and she missed it.
Maybe she and Raj could fill that time together.
It was a pleasant thought, and the more Raj turned it in his head, the more he liked it.
Soon he'd reached Adriana's mud brick hovel. The door was closed. Raj looked around the area, noticing a few neighbors tending chores, but he didn't see Adriana. He listened for her voice as he walked slowly past her home. A few muffled voices echoed through the wall.
Probably her mom and dad.
Would they consider it rude if he knocked so early? Raj didn't want to be a pest, nor did he want to annoy some people that he might see often, if he were lucky enough to spend more time with Adriana.
He went past the house, deciding he would come back in a while.
Turning onto the main path past Adriana's alley, he looked right, toward the river. A few people walked toward the bridge in the distance, heading toward the Green Crops. Others stood at the banks, dipping their buckets in the water.
Nearing the river, he studied the slow-moving current. The sun cast a warm glare off the water. Nearby, a mother and father with a toddler splashed and played happily. Seeing that image reminded him of his own parents.
Perhaps he'd visit their graves.
He continued over the well-trodden trail, until the bridge was underfoot. A few people leaned over the rail, looking out over the water, or nodding at him. Off in the distance, Raj studied the rock formations that loomed over the colony, where a few Watchers gazed out over the people below, observing them.
Following the same path as the procession had, he crossed the length of sandy desert, coming around the corner of the western formation and arriving at the field of stones where he'd stood with most of the others the day before.
Three people huddled by a gravestone.
Raj picked a diagonal path, cutting past them, curving by some half-buried grave markers. Using memory to guide him, he counted them, until he reached the stones marking his parent's graves.
Raj put his palms on the ground, kneeling close enough that the other people couldn't hear him.
"Hi Mom. Hi Dad," he said quietly. "I miss you."
Raj swallowed, as an unexpected sadness hit him.
"Neena is still out hunting," he whispered, speaking around the lump in his throat. "I'm hoping she's okay, after the sandstorm. I'm doing what I can to take care of Samel, like you would've wanted. And Helgid is helping us, too."
He felt a pang of grief. It felt as if he were speaking to his parents, instead of mounds of dirt. Or that's what he told himself, whenever he had conversations like this. Raj sighed, looking between the two graves, focusing on his father's empty one.
Raj remembered the ceremony they'd had for Dad. At the time, he had felt too strange to cry.
When he closed his eyes, he could still remember those first few weeks after his father left, lying in his bedroll and wondering if his father would return. That made him remember all the times he'd asked Neena about it. The more that Raj thought about her answer, the more certain he became that Neena had held something back.
Maybe he would ask her about it again.
Blotting away a few tears before they fell, Raj got to his feet.
A fist struck him in the back.
Pain seared through Raj's body.
Several rough hands threw him to the ground, near his father's hard grave marker. More than one person knelt, rolled him over, and pinned him. Raj struggled and screamed, but a hand clamped over his mouth. Through the glare of the sun, he saw four figures surrounding him: the boy with the pointed nose, a stern-faced boy, a shaggy-haired kid, and a tall one.
Bailey's boys.
Frantic, Raj looked for the people he'd seen earlier, but they were gone. The Watchers were on the other side of the cliffs, out of sight. Of course, they were. Bailey and his boys had picked this moment on purpose.
Bailey walked out of the glare, standing over him with a sneer.
"What are you going to do now, orphan boy?" he spat.
Raj tried lashing out with his arms and legs, but the kids held them.
"I told you this wasn't over," Bailey said.
Leaning down, Bailey plucked Raj's knife from its sheath and held it up in the sunlight, examining the blade, as his eyes lowered back to Raj.
"Did you come out here to cry, like a sissy?"
The others laughed.
"He came out here to cry over his dead dad," said the kid with the pointed nose. "Maybe he wanted to ask him why he didn't leave sooner."
The boys laughed harder.
Raj screamed into one of the sweaty hands over his mouth. He squirmed and bucked. He spat every foul word he knew, even though no one could hear him. He wouldn't let them intimidate him, even if it meant his death.
"Maybe we can cut out your eyeballs, so you won't have to cry anymore," Bailey said with a smile, lowering Raj's knife toward his face.
New fright bit through Raj's stomach. His hands and legs coursed with an instinct to flee, to fight, but he could do nothing except watch Bailey lower the knife. Bailey got within a few inches of Raj's cheek, twisting and turning the blade.
"Wait," one of his friends interrupted. "I found something."
Bailey looked up, distracted. "What is it?"
The kid with the pointed nose said, "I'm not sure. It's in his pocket."
"Make sure he doesn't move," Bailey ordered. "I'll see what it is."
Bailey fished a filthy hand into Raj's pocket, digging around until he found the item to which the other kid had drawn attention. Triumph lit Bailey's face as he pulled out Adriana's round keepsake. He held up the object, inspecting its surface and turning it over, rubbing at the indents with his thumb.
Raj yelled harder into the hand over his mouth, screaming for Bailey to put it down, but his words were muted. A new joy took over Bailey's face as he saw the anger in Raj's eyes. Each muffled word prompted more interest.
"Was this your daddy's?" Bailey asked.
Raj screamed a curse word into the hand stifling his mouth. Of course, he wouldn't tell them the truth. He wouldn't tell them anything.
"Maybe it belongs to that old woman he hangs around with," said the taller kid. "Maybe she smooths out her wrinkles with it."
A few more kids laughed.
"Whatever it is, I like it," Bailey said, as he made a show of turning it over. "Maybe I'll keep it."
A worry crossed the pointed-nosed kid's face as he looked past Bailey, up toward the cliffs.
"He might go to The Watchers. He might say you stole it."
Something that looked like worry flashed through Bailey's face. "You wouldn't go to The Watchers on me, would you?" Bailey asked Raj. Lowering the keepsake, he held the knife to his neck. "'Cuz if you did, I would make sure it would be the last words you spoke."
Raj tried sucking in a breath to shout again, but he couldn't find any air.
"What does it do, anyway?" the tall kid asked, curiosity crossing his face as he leaned over Raj to take a look at the keepsake.
Bailey shrugged. "I don't know. I think it's just pretty."
"I think it would look prettier as a knife, or a spear-tip," said the boy with a smirk.
"I don't know, Bailey," said the boy with the pointed nose. "What if someone catches you before you melt it down?"
Bailey thought on that for a moment. Indecisiveness went through his face, before he arrived at a decision. "Maybe I'll bury it where no one can find it, so the orphan boy won't squeal. And I'll bury his knife, too."
Raj screamed uselessly.
"I said I owed you for what you did at the river," Bailey said, his indecisiveness turning into a grin. "And I meant it." Holding up the knife and the keepsake, he said, "Consider these payment, for threatening me."
Bailey's triumphant smile grew wider.
Without warning, he socked Raj in the stomach.
The rest of the wind escaped from Raj's body.
Bailey punched him several more times, hitting his ribs and his chest, until Raj's eyes blurred with watery pain. He kept hitting him, until flashes of light blinked through Raj's eyes.
And then the hands released Raj, and he gasped to regain his breath.
"If you follow us or say a word, you'll regret it," Bailey spat. "And so will Samel."
Raj wheezed a retort no one could hear.
The boys walked away.
Through the sun's glare, Raj saw their silhouettes making their way back through the gravesite. A few looked over their shoulders as they left, snickering.
And then they were around the cliffs, and out of sight.
My knife.
My keepsake.
Raj struggled for breath. He pushed with all his strength, managing to get to his feet. His ribs and stomach ached so badly he thought he would collapse. His lungs screamed.
He staggered through the sand, barely putting one boot in front of the other. Each footfall brought new pain. Several times, he almost collapsed, but he managed to make it a ways from the graveyard and around the rock formation, catching sight of Bailey and his gang passing the Green Crops and heading for the bridge. Raj opened his mouth to cry out, but he produced only a muffled cry.
Halfway across the bridge, the boys stopped.
Helplessly, Raj watched Bailey lean over the side of the bridge, look in a few directions, and drop two small objects into the river.
Pain flashed behind Raj's eyes again.
He collapsed.
He didn't move.