Sugar rocked back on her knees and wrapped her scarfed-covered arms around her shins, balling up to preserve body heat. A tiny head poked in front of her cell and then drew back.

It was a child. A little girl. Sugar’s heart broke. Tears would’ve flooded her eyes had she not been dehydrated. No, no. Why does hell have to house babies?

Crawling back to the edge of her enclosure, she put her fingers through the holes and whispered again. “Hi, out there.”

The curious head popped forward, staying near the edge of Sugar’s makeshift cell. The girl had big brown eyes—the most inquisitive Sugar had ever seen—knotted hair, and dirt-streaked cheeks. The image wrenched her heart.

Sugar wiggled her fingers through the barricade again. The little girl did the same, putting a finger onto the crosshatch and imitating her.

“Hi,” Sugar whispered again, smiling. She pointed to the lock. “Can you open that?”

The little girl shook her head, but curled her finger again.

What language would she speak? Dari? Pashtu? Sugar knew a few basic words, but nothing that would translate well to an… eight-, nine-, ten-year-old. How old was she?

The finger disappeared. Maybe Sugar shouldn’t have asked about the lock. Any minute, she would have to deal with the fuckers keeping her caged. Any minute—

The little girl was back, bearing a gift. A piece of bread squeezed through a hole. Sugar pushed her finger through the hole in acknowledgement. “Thank you.”

The bread wasn’t much, but did the job. Leaning against her enclosure, her fingers still snaked toward freedom, Sugar finished the scrap in two bites and ignored the taste of dirt. A soft touch met her finger, and she looked out of her cage. The little girl sat on the other side and had locked a finger around hers.

Sugar whispered hello again, scared that they would both get into trouble.

“English,” the little girl whispered back, nodding.

“English,” Sugar repeated, unsure if it was a question or an affirmation. “You know English?”

She nodded, and a little smile spread across her face. Their locked fingers stayed in place, while the girl played in the dirt with her other hand.

“My name is Sugar.”

“Sugar,” the little girl repeated, not looking away from a tiny dirt pile on the ground. “You are bad?”

Bad? Had the little girl ever seen a woman like Sugar behind makeshift bars? If she was out here, she’d seen too much, like the shootout during the night. Sugar tightened her finger around the girl’s, trying to sound trustworthy. “No. Not bad. Good.”

“Good.” Big brown eyes reached into her heart and squeezed.

“Yes, good.” She nodded, reassuringly. “What is your name?”

“Asal.”

“That’s pretty.”

The little girl smiled, showing all her teeth. Sugar heard something move in the background, and Asal scampered away. She was all alone again. For a few minutes, Sugar hadn’t been stranded in a rudimentary cell, freezing her ass off on the side of a mountain. She was making a young friend, who she had a feeling hated this damn place, too.