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Dusk kept to the shade underneath the trees as he ran, leaving the scene of the attack far behind. Swiftly he moved through the woods, keeping the morning sun on his left shoulder so that he continued heading south. He didn’t know where he was going or where he was, but he knew that warmer weather lay in the south. It seemed foolish to think he could outrun winter, but having been inside the mines for ten years, he couldn’t remember what the world even looked like, much less where anything was. His only hope was to choose a direction and pray that he came across some sort of village.
After the first hour, he slowed his pace, trekking through the thicker underbrush. The trees were tall and brooding, their dark trunks a striking contrast to the leaves that were ablaze with color. The sunlight continued to stream through, illuminating the forest floor and burning away the last of the frost that clung to the leaves. It had been a cold night, but it didn’t take long for the air to grow warm and Dusk had to take off the fur-lined cloak to keep himself from sweating.
Around midday, he found that most of the excitement had worn off and all he could concentrate on was the burning pain of hunger in his belly and the dryness of his throat. The long walk had used up what reserves he had and he was growing desperate for food. But the year was growing late and he’d never had to survive in the woods before. He wasn’t sure what to look for without accidentally poisoning himself. Here and there he saw clusters of bright red berries clinging to low shrubs or trees, but when he tasted them he found them so bitter that he spat them out. They were tart and dry, making the need for water greater than it had been before. A few moments later he felt his tongue grow numb and was glad he hadn’t swallowed any of them.
When he had been captured as a boy, he’d been living on the streets in the capital city of Eblesal. The memories of those times were fuzzy and unclear, but Dusk thought that it must have been easier to find food among the wealthier people of the city. If they were anything like Maxon, they always had more than they needed and squandered it away frivolously. Even Nine had mentioned that edible garbage was easy to come by. He wondered for a moment if he should attempt to go there again. A deep-seated curiosity wanted to know the truth of his past, but a quick glance at the open wound on his arm shook it away. He knew he couldn’t be seen in a city. The markings on his arm labeled him along with his scars. Anyone who found them would know what he was and try to return him for a price. Now that he was free he wanted to keep it that way.
Dusk knew he had to keep to the woods and roads, avoiding people and larger cities at all costs, so he trudged on. As evening descended he came across a small creek winding through the wood silently. It was no more than two inches deep and barely two feet wide. The bottom was coated in black muck that settled there as it flowed. Thirst drove him forward and he took heavy gulps off the top of the water, savoring the coolness of it against his parched throat. The water didn’t look clean, but he knew not to turn down the chance to drink. The bucket passed in the mines was always murky and sometimes it made him vomit, but he never turned it down. It was too precious of an opportunity to waste.
Dusk splashed water over his face, washing away some of the dirt and sweat that had built up over the day. Glancing about, he decided to follow the creek, turning from the straight path he had been walking all day. The terrain was growing hilly and uneven as he walked. Here and there large moss-covered stones thrust up out of the ground, forcing him to walk around. A few trees seemed to spring from the stone itself while others let their roots wrap around in a tangled web as if attempting to strangle the rocks themselves. They were all works of art in his mind, but he had no time to stop and appreciate them.
Darkness fell inside the forest before the sunlight had disappeared from the sky overhead. The heat trapped under the canopy dissipated quickly, leaving Dusk shivering in the night air. His breath blew out in small clouds in front of him and he could already smell the crisp frost beginning to form on the leaves as he walked. Pulling the fur-lined cloak around his shoulders, he pushed on through the hilly terrain.
As he crested a small rise, he could see the dark brown moon filling a large portion of the night sky, stars twinkling just beyond. He’d caught glimpses of Gartha before but had never had much time to examine it. Its surface was pock-marked with craters and there looked to be something akin to mountains stretching across one side like a scar against the rusty surface.
Then a flash of white light caught his attention and his eyes fell upon a much smaller moon, one he’d heard of, but never actually seen. He remembered the others at the mine had called it the Crystal Moon since it seemed to dance and shimmer in the light, like a faceted jewel in the heavens. It shone with pale blue light and was so bright that it was hard to see the surface. Holding up his hand, Dusk could see that the moon was smaller than his thumbnail. It was nothing more than a pebble compared to Gartha. Dusk stared at it, watching the light dance and shimmer in the night sky.
For a long while, he stood there, watching the Crystal Moon slowly make its way across the heavens. Then, completely without warning, it went dark in an instant. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, but he was able to spot it once more, no more than a black speck floating in front of Gartha. It seemed the last vestiges of sunlight had been lost as it passed into the world’s shadow. It was at that moment that Dusk realized why he had never seen the smaller moon before. It had been less than an hour since sundown. He wouldn’t have been out of the mines yet.
The thought of the mines turned him back to the soil under his sore feet. He wanted to press on, but the lack of food and the hard traveling had made him weary. He needed to find a place to sleep for the night. Looking about he was surrounded by spindly trees growing in the rocks, nothing large enough to sleep in for the night. Although he didn’t want to stay on the ground for fear of the unknown creatures that could be lurking in the woods, it looked as if he’d have no other choice. Not far off he could just make out a large black rock that jutted out of the ground at an acute angle, creating a kind of shelter. He made his way towards it, deciding it was as good a place to sleep as any.
Underneath the overhanging stone, the ground was soft and thick with moss. The stone itself was cold, holding no hint of the sunlight from the warm day before. Crawling underneath, Dusk pushed himself into the smallest area where the stone met dirt, curling the cloak around him. At first, he thought he’d never sleep, thinking about what could be lurking in the woods in the darkness. He listened to every chirp of the crickets and every bestial cry in the distance, wrapping the cloak tighter around himself at each noise. For the first time in years, he was afraid to sleep, wishing it away instead of welcoming it as a sweet escape. He wished he could stay awake or find a high place to fall asleep at least. And while he fought to keep his mind awake with all his might and fear, sleep came like a silent assassin and stole him away.
***
The next morning dawned bright and colder than the one before. Even under the large overhang of the rock, there was still frost clinging to the edges of Dusk’s cloak. He stirred in place, keeping his eyes closed. For a brief moment, he thought he was back at the mines. His body ached and hunger burned in the pit of his stomach like it did every morning, but he knew sleep was fleeting and so he stayed still, trying to will himself back to sleep. The sounds of birds in the trees surprised him and he almost thought he could smell fresh earth. Cracking one eye open he peered out and saw a thin line of bright light where the edge of the cloak rested on the ground. He pulled it away slowly, revealing the grass and tree-dotted clearing around him.
For a moment all of his worries were forgotten once more. He stretched forward, crawling out from under the rock to lay in the damp grass under the sunlight. He’d slept late and the sun was already above the treeline. Even with the prospect of starving to death, Dusk found himself grateful for this moment and the freedom he was enjoying. He still had no idea what to do with it or where to go. Deep down he knew that slaves were never freed, only death brought that. So anyone that saw his tattoos or his scars would know there was a price to be had for turning him in to any trader. Dusk didn’t know what the world was like anymore, but if children like Nine were being captured and sold still, it couldn’t be that good.
Dusk stopped for a moment at the thought of Nine. He’d told him never to try to escape and here he was, having run off at the first chance to do so. He felt ashamed that they hadn’t gotten out together. Nine’s life had been cut too short because Dusk hadn’t warned him properly. The thought cut through him and dulled the joy that he felt being under the swaying trees and bright sun.
A smell in the air roused Dusk from his thoughts, the smell of smoke. It was light, but he knew it must mean people were nearby, or at least a fire. People meant danger, but they could also have food. The cloak could hide his markings, but nothing would hide the roughly short-shorn hair, the years of dirt, and the well-calloused hands of a miner. Still, he couldn’t turn down the chance to find food or steal it, whichever was easier. It drove him to his feet like a wild animal on the hunt. Sniffing at the air, he turned towards the smell and stalked off into the forest once more.
It was a surprisingly short walk until Dusk came upon the edge of a small village. The trees stopped less than twenty feet away from the houses that dotted the clearing. A road ran directly through the center going east to west. The southern edge of the road was open farmland, filled with the last remnants of the year's crops. Between the houses Dusk could see people going about their daily lives, getting ready for the long winter ahead. Everyone wore dark, naturally colored clothing and looked pristine compared to the state of his own under the cloak. He could hear a few of them talking to one another as he looked from around the tree, his fingers pressed against the rough bark. Just then the breeze shifted towards him, bringing with it the smell of freshly baked bread. Saliva pooled in his mouth and he sniffed the air hungrily, his eyes tightly shut, savoring every last sniff he could muster.
The sound of shutters being thrown wide pulled them open again. In the window of the nearest house, he saw three loaves of fresh bread placed on the windowsill to cool. He gripped the tree tighter, willing himself to stay put. Thinking he could resist it, he turned his head downwards, staring at the ground and his tattered boots. The smell hit him again, stronger this time, and he watched as his feet began to step forward of their own accord. It wasn’t far to the house and back to the woods. No one would see him before he disappeared.
Keeping low, Dusk snuck forward, crouching under the window. The loaves were long and golden brown, sticking just off the edge of the window ledge. He could see the steam rolling off them as they cooled, the crackling of the crust ringing in his ears. Cautiously he reached up, grabbed a loaf that was almost too hot to touch, and pulled it smoothly over the edge without a sound. He cradled it in his arms, savoring the warmth and the delicious sourdough smell that rolled over him. For a moment he listened intently, making sure no one had seen his thievery. Satisfied he was safe, he wrapped the bread in his cloak and began to step away, only to hear a voice from behind him.
“You can have that if you like,” the gentle voice said. “But if you want a real meal, why don’t you come inside?”
Dusk whipped around to see an old bent woman with a dirty apron and flour smeared across her face. She wore a soft smile as he stepped forward again, offering out a hand.
“Come on in, I’ve got plenty to share.”
Dusk didn’t take her hand. He took another step towards the forest, worried that this was some sort of trick, but there was such kindness in her eyes that he’d not seen in more than a decade. It reminded him of his mother. Although he had no memory left of her face or voice, he could remember the feeling of being spoken to gently. He noticed the lines on her face were deepest around her smile and instead of trusting his gut, he trusted the marks she wore from a lifetime of experience.
She smiled brighter, “Follow me.”
Turning on her heel, she walked back around the corner of the house. Dusk paused for a moment and then stepped forward, the loaf of bread still tucked warmly into his cloak. Just around the corner, a door stood wide, beckoning him in and as he stepped over the threshold she spoke once more.
“Take a seat at the table. I’ll get some butter and cheese.”
She hurried about her small home, pulling items off shelves and sitting them on the table. Dusk glanced around, noticing the large number of plants hanging from the ceiling and ceramic jars lining the walls. There were bricks of wax and small containers filled with mysterious powders lying across another large table on one side of the room. A mortar and pestle sat to one side, stained green with time and use. Above the fireplace, a large black bow hung with a small quiver of arrows crossed by a large polished sword with a brass-colored handle. The old woman ambled around, producing a large wedge of white, sharp-smelling cheese, a small crock of butter, and an assortment of cured meats. The last thing she brought was a large knife and held it out to Dusk. He shrunk away from her, pushing the chair back against the wall, scraping it across the floor.
She held up her hand gently, “It’s okay. I can cut it instead. Can you put the bread on the table please?”
“Yes sir,” Dusk replied without a second thought.
“Sir?” she laughed. “I haven’t been called that in a few years.”
Feeling a bit foolish, he untucked the bread from deep within his cloak and placed it on the table, picking a few stray hairs off it from the fur lining. Before he could pull his arm back he felt her soft hand clasp around his wrist, turning his arm over. She was examining the fresh tattoo on his arm. Dusk yanked it away violently, stuffing it back inside his clothing. His heart began to race. Why had he come here? He should have known better than to accept aid from someone. She was sure to tell the local guard and they would chase him through the woods until he collapsed, was caught, or died.
“We’ll get that cleaned up after we eat. Don’t want it to get infected.”
As if nothing was amiss, she turned back to the food, cutting fat slices of bread and cheese to be paired together. Dusk sat in his wooden chair, on the verge of bolting. He turned in his seat, moving a foot out to get ready to run.
“You don’t have anything to worry about,” she replied calmly, not looking up from her work. “I’m part of the Legion, I’m not going to turn you in.”
“Th–the Legion?” Dusk croaked, his throat drier than he remembered.
“The Legion of the Twilight, yes.”
“I–I don’t know what that is.”
“We work to see that people like you are set free permanently. We don’t think any man, woman, or child should be subjected to a lifetime of servitude. Everyone should be free to have the life they choose, not be captured on the streets and sold like cattle.”
“But why?”
“Why?” she laughed, turning back to him. “Tell me, do you miss where you came from? Do you want to go back? Did they treat you well?”
“No...”
“Well that’s why!” she laughed again. “I’ve helped many people over the years, but you’re the first that’s ever asked me why.” She suddenly grew serious and quiet, “It must have been especially awful for you, but don’t worry. Time and food will bring your senses back to you.” She laid the knife down and clapped her hands together. “Please, eat as much as you like.”
Dusk didn’t need to be told twice. The years had left him with no sense of table manners and within seconds he had too large a piece of bread stuffed in his mouth along with a small wedge of cheese. The old woman had to fetch him a cup of water so that he didn’t choke to death.
“Slow down,” she cooed. “It’s not going anywhere.”
“Yes, si—ma’am.”
“What’s your name, child?” she asked, taking a seat across the table from him.
“I–they called me Dusk.”
“Do you know your real name?”
Dusk shook his head, taking another smaller bite of the still-warm bread. It almost melted in his mouth. He slathered some butter on it with a small knife and was almost knocked out of his chair by the sweetness of it. He couldn’t remember if he’d ever had butter, but he knew right then and there that it was one of the greatest foods on the planet.
“Well, a name is what you make it. Dusk will do just fine for now,” she smiled, watching him react to the food. “My name is Juniper. I’m the healer for this tiny village.”
She took a small piece of bread for herself and carefully spread butter across its surface before topping it with a thin slice of meat. Dusk watched as she took small bites, chewing each fully before moving on to the next. He felt suddenly self-conscious, eating like a starved animal. He made an effort to slow down, trying to mirror her movements in an attempt to seem more normal. As he chewed he was beginning to realize how much he’d have to learn to fit in with regular people.
“Do you have a place to go, Dusk?” she dusted the crumbs off her hands.
“No.”
“That’s the usual answer. Where did you come from?”
“I was in a salt mine.”
“I know that one you speak of, the Ronja mine. It’s a little more than a day’s travel from here. That place is impenetrable. The Legion has never been successful at getting anyone out. How did you escape?”
Dusk held his arm out, showing the fresh tattoo. “This is my last mark.”
“Ah... you were being shipped back to Malkekna then. Did you slip off in the night? How did you get out of your bonds?”
“We were attacked. Men came out of the forest with weapons.” Dusk gestured to his cloak and he let his gaze fall to the ground, “One came after me and I... I killed him.”
“You did what you had to. They would have done worse to you. That gang is trouble for anyone they come across. They kill first and ask questions later. They do keep any creatures at bay, so I guess everyone has their use. Although if they come within a mile of this village they’ll be dead.” Juniper glanced up at the bow hanging over the mantle.
Dusk was taken aback by her sudden seriousness but continued speaking. “Creatures?”
“How much do you know of the world?”
“I don’t remember much before I was caught.”
“How old were you?”
“Maybe... eleven? Twelve? I’m not sure.”
“Well, let’s just say that things have changed a lot in the past twenty-ish years. Things that a child living on the streets wouldn’t know about. The woods aren’t as safe anymore and neither are the roads. Those bandits are probably the only reason you passed through the forest unscathed.”
“What’s out there?”
“Let’s not worry about that right now,” she shook her head with a gentle smile. “Let’s get you cleaned up and take care of that wound.”
***
It took a lot of scrubbing and many buckets of water, but he was finally clean for the first time in his life that he could remember. Still naked and soaking wet, he threw himself on the grass, letting the warm sun dance across his body and dry his dull copper skin. For a few moments he laid there, his eyes closed, listening to the sounds of the birds in the trees. Then a sharp gasp roused him and he leaned up on his elbows, looking at Juniper who had hand clasped over her mouth.
“Gods among us!” she laughed. She reached her hands behind her back and unfastened her apron. “It’s been a very long time since I’ve seen one of those!”
She walked over and laid the apron across Dusk’s midsection, still smiling. Shaking her head, she clicked her tongue and turned back towards the house. Dusk felt himself blush slightly. He’d forgotten himself in the warm sunlight. Unwilling to dwell on it, he leaned back once more and put his arms behind his head, knowing he’d never get enough of the sunlight streaming through the trees.