Cold, heavy drops of water fell on his face, stirring him half-awake, but he kept his eyes closed. He felt tired and numb, and so hot that the cold water now falling all over him actually felt good.

“Wake up kid! Please wake up! Please don’t do this to me! Open your eyes!”

ZaiWin frowned at the sound of that familiar voice. He couldn’t remember having ever heard him sound so desperate.

“ZenTar …?” he mumbled and did try his best to obey but, at the same time, he no longer knew how to open his eyes.

A tall, beautiful woman, with long golden hair and cold golden eyes, was staring at him, holding a simple, bloody silver dagger in one of her elegant, pale hands. He wanted to scream but he couldn’t bring himself to move. Bright, red blood was slowly pooling over the white, stone floor. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t breathe. All he knew was that if he moved, things that should not be would become undeniably real.

“So what if your hair is black?” a gentle voice was saying, and ZaiWin blinked and immediately relaxed. He was sitting on the cold, hard floor but he didn’t mind it at all. Soft, gentle hands were slowly combing his short hair, the cold fingers feeling especially good as they brushed his head. “You are still who you are. No one can ever take that from you. It’s such a shame that NimTar won’t allow you to grow it longer.”

“She would, if it were as beautiful as yours,” he replied even though the gentle hands caressing him didn’t allow him to truly feel sad about it, and the woman sitting behind him chuckled softly.

“Hair like mine can look beautiful, yes. But I doubt you’d want it for yourself.”

“But I do!” ZaiWin stubbornly replied and she sighed deeply.

“No you don’t. Your black hair may be unusual inside these walls, but there are a lot of people out there that will find it beautiful. Being born with golden hair like mine is a curse worse than being born with red hair like the El’Gin. We can never hide. We can never be free.”

He simply blinked and he was standing in front of that red pool of blood again. He didn’t want to see this! He didn’t want to be here! Squeezing his eyes shut he refused to look at it again.

He was starting to feel cold, now. He knew he was completely wet. The only thing he could feel was the air stubbornly filling his chest.

Suddenly the water stopped falling on him, bringing him some comfort. He was still cold though, still shivering. But the fact that water had stopped being poured over him allowed him to relax a bit. He almost fell asleep again.

Something even colder than his own skin touched his lips and tried to part them, pressing something against his teeth. ZaiWin frowned and shook his head, but whatever it was persisted, easily following his weak movements. Dirt, the word surged in his feverish mind.

Were they trying to bury him alive? The mere thought was enough to jolt his consciousness awake. They should at least kill him first!

Blinking, he made an effort to open his eyes. The world was bathed in a dim gray light and in a thick white mist, and the soft sound of falling rain filled his ears. He felt lost, gray and black shadows coming in and out of sight. No one was burying as he had feared.

Something was pressed against his lips again, making him turn his head. Even though he wasn’t being buried the fact that there was dirt in his teeth was real and undeniable. He tried to spit it out and something cold and wet pressed on his shoulder. He really wanted to go back to sleep. He felt too tired, even to keep his eyes open. But he still made an effort to turn his gaze towards whatever was stubbornly insisting in disturbing his rest.

Big, black eyes were staring intently at him.

Wasn’t he supposed to have returned home already?, ZaiWin wondered. Or was he imagining things again?

With a scowl on his child-like face, a small hand pressed something to his mouth again, forcing him to turn his head to the other side. What was he trying to do?, he spat again.

The kid looked like a wet mouse, his hair plastered to his small head, his tunic glued to his scrawny body. He could have fallen into a lake. A muddy lake, ZaiWin thought. He was even dirtier than he’d been before. If not for the rain that had more or less washed his face and neck, he would have been completely covered in mud. Had he fallen in some ditch?

“Go …” he tried to say but the moment he opened his mouth the child pressed something into his mouth again. He spat even more violently, his tongue now covered in dirt. Was the kid trying to poison him?

“Eat!”

The unexpected sound of that small command left him very still. Had he imagined that as well?

ZaiWin turned to look at the kid again, blinking his foggy vision into focus. He was shivering from the cold and sweating at the same time. But at least he couldn’t feel pain anymore. In fact, there was very little he could feel from his neck down.

Lowering his gaze he saw that the child was holding some kind of dark-brown root, from which he’d cut a few small pieces. He had probably dug it out himself. His small hands were covered in mud, the tiny fingers bloody at the fingernails. Was he really trying to feed him that?!

As if to reply his mental question, the little one pressed another piece of root to his mouth, and ZaiWin turned his head and spat again.

“Eat!”

Oh, so he hadn’t imagined it, ZaiWin concluded. The kid could actually talk.

As if he’d lost his patience, the child dropped the main piece of root and tried to grab his face as he pressed another smaller piece against his lips. ZaiWin tried to struggle free from his grip but he could hardly move his head anymore, much less push the child away. Groaning in frustration he finally opened his mouth and allowed the piece of root and three muddy fingers inside.

“It will make you good,” the child insisted, slipping his hand free from his mouth to cut another piece of root.

It would probably kill him, ZaiWin thought, his mouth tasting like bitter mud.

Looking up at him the little one pressed ZaiWin’s jaw with his small hands.

“Chew. Then swallow. Then sleep. Then good again.”

Whatever, ZaiWin thought, closing his eyes and doing as he was told. He was going to die anyway. If eating that stuff made that child happy so be it. He would use that to repay the fact that he’d stayed by his side even after he’d sent him away. This time, when he felt the pressure against his lips he simply parted them and allowed another piece of muddy root to be deposited on his tongue. Maybe the kid would finally go home once he was dead. It would be good if that happened. He really didn’t want him to get into trouble because of him.

“Good boy,” the child sang, patting the top of his head, probably mimicking what other people had told him, and ZaiWin couldn’t help smile.

After he’d swallowed the fourth piece of root, the little one seemed satisfied. Delicately sitting on his good leg, he wrapped his small arms around him and silently nestled against his naked chest.

No. You should really go home, now!, ZaiWin wanted to tell him but he felt too tired, too sleepy to even move.

Strangely enough, even though the small body pressed against him felt even colder than his own, he actually started to feel warm. The shivering cold disappeared, replaced by a comforting warmth that came from inside him. He could also feel his hands again. Could even move his fingers. But he was way too tired to try and lift them.

Whatever the kid had fed him wasn’t actually that bad. At least he would get to die comfortably in his sleep.

The last thing his foggy mind registered was the deep, warmth breath of the small child leaning against him.

Hi there! ^_^ So sorry for missing yesterday’s update. But my head was killing me and I just couldn’t stand the light of the laptop screen, so I just went straight to sleep. Hope you enjoy it! ^_^;