He climbed inside and secured the opening. He paused at a barrel and dipped a small cup in, careful to let any drops drip back into the barrel before offering it to me. I drank eagerly.

Cool water careened down my throat. I could’ve drunk the entire barrel and not been satisfied. After I finished, I handed the cup back to Cion, who took only a few small sips.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

I nodded.

“Good. I asked the boys to prepare dinner early.”

I followed him as he led to a common room. Colored tapestries had been nailed into the walls to guard against the jagged rocks while pillows were thrown over a patterned rug. Several lanterns gave the room an easy glow and a feeling of warmth.

The number of boys seemed to have multiplied. They lay across each other as I imagined the scorpions at Scorpion Hill did. Some of them could’ve been girls with closely cropped hair, but it was impossible to tell under all the dirt and grime. They all looked worn out.

I realized for the first time that not all of them were Achrans. One boy had the three blue triangles painted on the backs of both hands that Neribians inked on with cerelic dye at birth. It was supposed to remind them that no matter where they roamed, their home was in those mountain peaks represented on their hands, and that every time they extended their hand, whether in greeting or violence, they were representatives of all Neribians.

Another child had the typical stretchy Mesian threads tied around their ankles, probably put there by their parents. It was said when both anklets finally wore away and fell off, the child was considered old enough to be an adult in their culture.

I swallowed at the thought of how worn those anklets looked in comparison to the small frame of the child who stood before me. The desert had made these children grow up much faster than any child should have to.

I could only imagine their parents had gotten trapped here by the drought. Or maybe they’d had relatives who had escaped to the thriving Achran oasis during the Romaldihide raids on Mesia several generations ago.

Whatever the reason, they were stuck here now, covered in sand and strapped by thirst as much as any Achran. And I didn’t want to think about what had to have happened to their parents for these kids to end up out here.

Everyone stopped what they were doing when they noticed our presence.

The only open space was at the back of the room, near a green cushion. For lack of a better destination, I headed toward it. Dark eyes watched me as I passed.

There was barely room to walk between the bodies, and a few of them curled away from me like I used to do from the tigers. I stepped over Dimic and another boy, who had pebbles laid out to play some game I’d never seen before, and waited for Cion to weave his way through.