Crutch! Thrusting the shovel into the shovel earth underneath his feet, Ethan paused for a moment to catch his breath. Wiping the sweat gathered upon his forehead using his dirty hand, he then took a deep breath before kicking the bottom of the shovel. The shovel head was pushed further into the earth, almost entirely disappearing.

Huup! A short exhale later, he exerted strength into his forearms and pulled the shovel up, digging up the soft earth in the process. Turning around, he smoothly dumped the load on the wooden through next to him before turning back to repeat the process all over again.

Ethan was a dark-skinned, fourteen-year-old boy, and a child worker who had been newly drafted. His notable features included his amber-colored hair, buck teeth, and freckles covering the entire top of his nose.

“Oi! Ethan!” A shout broke the boy out of his working stance. Turning in the direction of the shout, he found his best friend, Dewey, walking towards him with his other best friend, Keiron.

“Hello, Dewey. Hello, Keiron. Haven’t seen ya both today,” Ethan greeted, affixing his shovel into the ground. “How’re ya two faring?”

“Absolutely terrible, I tell ya,” Dewey replied. He was a head shorter than Ethan, and a shade lighter. An overtly noticeable birthmark covered the area around his left eye. “All this work is making my back break!~”

“It’s my arms and hands that hurt more,” Keiron softly added. “Also, my palms ‘re all wrinkly for some reason.” He held up his hands for the other two to see. “Never happened before.”

“I’ve seen it before,” replied Ethan. “Happened to me once when I stayed out too long playing in the rain. My mum went mad when she caught me that day, muddying my clothes. Beat me ‘till I started screamin’ like a pig in heat.”

“Yea’, I remember that day. I was with ya,” Dewey informed the pair while laughing. “‘Twas funny seein’ you scream that loud. ‘Mummy! Please spare me! I’m sorry!’” He did his best to mimic that scene.

Feeling unamused at his friend’s mockery, Ethan quickly added, “Now, why do I remember someone else screaming ever louder after their mum showed up?” The grin on Dewey’s face immediately disappeared, his expression becoming downcast. Karma had come to him a little too soon that day.

“So, I’ll be fine?” Keiron had paid no attention to the pair’s bantering, having been too focused on observing his own hands.

“You should be fine. Though, if it starts hurting, keep away from water for a while,” Ethan kindly advised.

“Fat chance of that happenin’,” Dewey scoffed. He then nervously scanned his surroundings with his eyes before leaning in and gesturing to the others to lean closer. “Don’t be alarmed, but I heard that if they catch us slackin’ off today, they won’t give us any rations.”

“They won’t give us rations!” Keiron loudly exclaimed, earning his smack on the back of his head. “Oi!~” He protested, rubbing the back of his head.

“What part of ‘don’t be alarmed’ did ya not understand, ya blockhead!?” Dewey harped sharply. “I don’t understand, how’re ya such an idiot when ya father’s a learned?”

“Must be ‘cause of you smacking me on ma head all the time,” Keiron whispered, indignantly.

“What was that, lad?” Dewey fumed. Keiron and Dewey were cousins leading them to look somewhat similar; although, Keiron was smaller and more slender than Dewey leading the boy to be pushed around by the latter.

“Where’d ya hear this, Dewey?” asked Ethan. Though he was of a similar age as the other two, he liked putting on a mature front and frequently talked and acted like an adult.

“Here and there. I overheard some adults talkin’ about it,” Dewey honestly replied. “They were also talking about how the prince was being too severe by makin’ the children work and all. Even my mum was fumin’ about it this mornin’, when she heard the order.”

“I don’t mind working. It’s only natural for us to help out when the town is facing a calamity,” said Ethan.

“Hah!” Dewey scoffed in reply. “You can drop the ‘I am an adult’ act now. Kids like us are supposed to be playin’, not shovelin’ filth and diggin’ holes in this water-soaked hell!”

Pausing for a second, he then continued, “I’m with my Ma on this. That prince is bein’ outta line with this order.”

“I’ve never seen the prince playin’ around,” Keiron inserted.

“That’s 'cause you’ve never been inside the Baron’s manor, stupid. He should have a ton of fancy toys and other knick-knacks to play around with,” Dewey replied with dripping jealousy.

“I don’t think so,” Ethan defended the prince. “Have ya seen the dark skin around his eyes? My mum told me that it becomes like that when ya work too hard and don’t sleep.”

“He could’ve just been playin’ too hard,” Dewey rebutted, unwilling to lose the debate.

“I don’t think the prince plays with toys either. He’s too much like the adults, that I can’t imagine him doin’ that,” Keiron reinforced the debate with his own opinion.

“Right, right,” Ethan quickly agreed. “He’s like the adults, but better than them! My father always praises him like that.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever!” Dewey reluctantly accepted his loss. “I still don’t like ‘im!” He firmly declared.

Silence descended on their conversation as the mood turned awkward. Feeling guilty that the mood had soured because of him, Dewey lightly coughed before bringing up a new topic.

“Thou’h, I have to say. The prince is THE most beautiful person that I’ve ever seen.”

“Aye,” Ethan stared blankly into space and longingly agreed. “If I could only marry a wife half as pretty as the prince. I’d be laughin’ for life.”

“Half? Someone’s bein’ greedy, isn’t he?” Dewey derisively laughed. “I’d feel blessed if I could catch a wife with a face that equals the prince’s arse!”

“I would like to marry the prince,” Keiron whispered, not expecting the two other boys to hear his words.

Ethan and Dewey turned around in unison and stared at the boy, shock and horror coloring their faces.

“Keiron, you–!”

“Heavens! He’s gone mental!”

Blushing furiously, Keiron shook his head dismissively with enough force and speed to break his neck. “No, NO!!” He yelled. “You didn’t hear that! I didn’t say anythin’!!” He waves both his arms to aid in his refusal.

“Keiron, but you’re a man, and he’s a man…” Dewey’s face mirrored his internal struggle as he failed to come to terms with the concept. The pieces of the puzzle simply didn’t fit within his mind.

“NO! NO! SHUT UP!!” Keiron lunged towards Dewey and caught the latter by his collars. Choking the other boy, Keiron continued to deny and defend himself. “I DIDN’T SAY ANYTHIN’!! ALSO! ALSO!!”

His voice suddenly quietened to an extreme, akin to a mouse squeak. “It’s not like he must be a man… He could be a… princess or somethin’...”

“Oh Gods! This boy is too far gone! He’s beyond saving!” Ethan exclaimed in horror and regret. He even performed the gesture of prayer.

“Shut up! SHUT UP!” Keiron continued to futilely scream.

“Keiron, my cousin,” Dewey slowly spoke up, his words dripping with seriousness and worry. “You’ve got to purge yer head of that nonsense. You must never go down that path!”

“The two of ya are impossible!” He huffed before turning around and ignoring them. Ethan and Dewey wiped the serious expressions off their faces and started to laugh and the smaller boy’s tantrum.

The three friends eventually went on to talk about other causal topics, both vulgar and mundane. They then complained about their violent parents, obsessive mothers, and obnoxious others like usual.

After ten minutes or so, Dewey suddenly stopped talking and discreetly nudged Ethan’s arms. “Look o’er there. Look who’s here.” He quietly said.

Ethan, and Keiron, who had also heard the other boys’ words, turned their heads and gazed in the direction of Dewey’s pointing.

Quietly digging into the earth, some distance away, was a similarly-aged boy. His headful of hair was extremely unkempt and pitch-black in color. His arms that held onto the shovel were as pale as a white sheet of paper and bony as a slender twig. His height wasn’t all that tall and his build was on the weaker side.

Just from sight alone, there was nothing remarkable to see about the boy. If anything, his clothes and body looked and smelled more filthy and the majority of the filth on the ground.

“It’s the freak,” Keiron absentmindedly mumbled, his face showing an expression of distaste. Ethan’s expression was even more pronounced and straight-up hostile, while Dewey held an expression of scorn and ridicule.

“Didn’t I tell that freak that I’d kill him if I see him again,” Ethan hatefully spat out his words, to which Dewey replied, “Ya did.”

“Can’t we ‘ust let him go?” Keirson nervously prompted, seeing the wrathful expression on Ethan’s face. “Let’s not stir up trouble.”

“Oh, have some balls. There’re no adults here,” Dewey mocked Keiron’s passiveness. A look of glee then suddenly appeared within his eyes as he quickly turned around and dug his hands into the trough near them. “Watch.” He cryptically said after a few seconds.

Strutting forward with his chest puffed out and his hands hidden behind his back, Dewey walked towards the filth-covered boy. “Oi! Freak!” He hollered, prompting the other boy to turn towards him.

The instant he saw the other boy’s face turn towards him, Dewey immediately unsheathed his hands and threw the object hidden within his hands. It was a ball of dirt.

The ball whizzed through the air and smacked the other boy’s face causing him to stumble. He stumbled back a few steps before suddenly bringing his two hands to his face and crouching down.

Dewey, and the two other boys, moved in closer. Arriving near the filth-ridden boy, they saw a line of blood drip from the former’s forehead. It seemed that Dewey had hidden a stone within the ball of dirt, leading to the injury.

“How’s that for a greetin’?” Dewey asked with a smirk. Pride colored his face.

“Oi, freak! I thought I told ya to never show yer face in the town,” Ethan barked, shedding all of his previous mature composure.

“Children over the age of ten were ordered to–” The crouched, filth-ridden boy opened his mouth to explain when he was kicked in the face by Ethan. The boy crashed into the wet earth.

“I don’t give a f*ck what the orders were!” Running closer, Ethan began to kick and stomp the fallen boy. “I. TOLD. YOU, not to show yer face ‘roud town. That, If I ever saw you again, I’d kill you!” He continued to be quite liberal with his kicks.

Watching his scene, Dewey sadistically laughed for a moment before running up and joining Ethan in his assault. He also began to kick and stomp the fallen boy, and additionally spat on him. Keiron looked away from the violence neither joining the other two boys nor stopping them.

The assault continued to fall on the fallen boy with the latter clutching his head and curling up like a shrimp. Apart from intermittent grunts, he produced no other noise.

“What a f*ckin’ freak! He doesn’t cry or let out a single other noise,” Ethan huffed, annoyedly. The boy’s non-reaction had hurt his pride causing him to intensify his assaults.

“Ya got a body of a twig, but ya sure can take a beatin’, can’t ya?” Dewey remarked, sweat pouring down his face. “Say somethin’ ya frea—!”

“OI! WHAT’RE YA KIDS DOIN’ THERE!” A voice interrupted their bullying.

“Sh*t! It’s an adult! RUN!” Dewey yelled before immediately taking off. Ethan was also spooked by the sudden yell and followed the other boy in his escape. Keiron was no different from the other two.

Hurriedly running over to the area of the scene, the adult man looked at the brats that had run away before looking at the fallen boy. He then quickly kneeled next to the beaten boy and checked him through his torn clothes.

“Oi, kid! Ya awake?” He questioned the boy while checking his body. “Oh Gods,” the man gasped, horrified.

Numerous bruises and wounds filled every inch of the boy’s body. Some of the bruises looked fresh while others looked days, or maybe even, weeks old. It was evident that this was not the first time that this boy was beaten up.

“Oi, kid! Wake up! What’s your name? Who’re yer parents?” The man carefully lifted the boy’s neck and fed him some water from the flask in his hands. “Drink this and tell me who did this to ya?”

Most of the water spilled but some of it managed to enter the boy’s throat through his chapped and broken lips. A few minutes of nursing later, the boy opened his bruised eyes.

A pair of dark, eerily quiet eyes stared at the adult man.

“No… one…” answered the boy with difficulty.

Frowning at his answer, the adult man urged, “You can trust me. The three boys that did this to ya, went beyond playin’. This is a serious matter. Come on, tell this uncle.”

“No… one… did… this…” replied the boy, once again.

“Argh! Ya don’t have to defend those pieces of sh*ts, brat! Tell me their names!”

“I… don’t… know…” The boy maintained his silence.

“Gods, you’re impossible!” The man fumed with anger. He then shot another look at the bruised and beaten boy before carefully laying him back on the ground. “We’ll talk ‘bout this later. Stay here. I’ll go and find someone to help ya.” The man then hurriedly left to fetch some help.

Meanwhile, the boy continued to lie on the wet earth. His black, unusually muted eyes stared at the dim, clouded, rainless sky. Blood silently flowed from his forehead and mouth, while bruises and filth covered the rest of his body. It was hard to imagine the pain that he was feeling.

Strangely, however, neither his face nor his eyes reflected this pain. Even stranger was the fact that there seemed to be no indignance, anger, hatred, or even fear to be found in the boy. The boy seemed empty and strangely at peace.

After lying quietly for a few minutes, the boy bit his lips and dragged his body away. He forced his body up, ignoring the immense amount of pain assaulting his mind. Forcing himself up to his feet, he limped over to where he had dropped his shovel, prior to the assault, and picked it up.

Holding the shovel in his left hand, the boy limped away, heading elsewhere.