Xaxac clung to Agalon as soon as he was off the horse and buried his face in his side as he opened the gate to enter the enclusure where the fighters lived.

“It’s alright, darlin,” Agalon promised in his most soothing voice, “Nobody ain’t gonna hurt you. Billy ain’t here today.”

“He ain’t?” Xac asked in genuine confusion, “Where’s he at?”

“On bedrest,” Agalon explained, “The vet thought he might need a day or two to recover. He was poisoned pretty bad and I need him in fightin shape by that first match here in a little bit.”

“Oh,” Xaxac snuggled into his side to hide his smile, “Thanks Aggie. You saved me.”

“Hey, Honey Bunny,” Agalon said as he came to a stop near the table, “You remember tellin me that you thought you was wastin away? That you wanted some exercise?”

Xaxac nodded.

“How about you run around a little bit out here?” Agalon asked.

Xaxac finally pulled his face from the fabric of Agalon’s uniform and asked, “But won’t I get in the way? Ain’t people out here trainin?”

“You ain’t gonna be in the way,” Agalon assured him, “There ain’t nothin to you. You’re tiny. Just… run over there towards the sleepin quarters and then run back to me. Fast as you can.”

“I don’t really run that much…” Xac giggled, “‘Specially not in house shoes. But… ok! Thanks, Aggie!”

“Fast as you can,” Agalon smiled down at him, “ Let’s see how fast you can run, Honey Bunny.”

“Ok,” Xaxac giggled, and felt, once again, like a pet, but he wasn’t particularly bothered by the emotion, because for the first time in a long time he was outside, and he didn’t have to sit still on the table, and he could run without a purpose, just to feel the wind on his face, and no one was going to hurt him because Agalon was watching him, and they had all seen what he had done to Billy.

It was an odd sensation though, because everyone was watching him. The fighters had all gathered around the perimeter of the enclosure in a way that made Xaxac think Agalon had warned them not to touch him. They were staring at him as if he was some sort of spectacle, and he supposed he was, as he was the only thing moving in the enclosure. He bounced on his feet a little and thought that his shoes were absolutely not made for running, but he knew Agalon wouldn’t let him take them off. He hoped he wouldn’t fall flat on his face and embarrass himself, but he actually felt as if he was getting more difficult to embarrass. He never really felt that emotion anymore, it had been replaced by a desire to drink, because drunkenness cured embarrassment in its entirety.

Then he took off towards the wall, moving as fast as he could, as Agalon had instructed. The planks rushed up to meet him so he giggled, reached out a hand to push himself off in a bounce, and rebounded back towards Agalon. He used to do this very thing with his sister, racing and bouncing off wooden walls, running, sometimes with the other children-

Tag, you’re it.

Xaxac was better at tag than he was at most games, because he was fairly difficult to catch, and he was pretty good at catching other people.

As he moved back towards Agalon, he had an idea and lept towards him. He imagined Agalon would stretch out his arms and catch him, maybe spin them both around, giggling. It was the perfect day for this; the oppressive heat was gone and autumn was just around the corner. It was the perfect day to play outside.

But Xaxac knew himself that he was too old for it, that he was being stupid. He was so lost in his memories that he did not understand the look of shock on Agalon’s face until he was on his back and Xaxac was on his chest, and the panic in Agalon’s eyes frightened him.

“I’m sorry!” Xaxac begged, hopped up, grabbed Agalon by the shoulder and tried to pull him upright, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I thought you’d catch me! I’m sorry, Aggie, please don’t be mad- are you ok? Please be ok! I’m sorry!”

“I’m fine, Honey Bunny,” Agalon said in a gasp, “Knocked the wind outta me. I shoulda caught ya. Should have been expectin it. That’s on me. Oh, darlin, don’t cry, I’m fine. I ain’t that old. Lord.”

He braced himself and allowed Xaxac to pull him upright.

“Master,” Wyatt said, “I… I flat couldn’t see him. Just a blur. That boy moves like a jackrabbit.”

“Hush!” Agalon snapped and pulled Xaxac into his chest. Xac didn’t like the way he was leaning on him, the way he swayed unsteadily on his feet., but Agalon kissed him on his forehead and promised, “I’m fine, darlin. Don’t look so sad; lord you scare so easy.”

“I’m sorry,” Xaxac buried his face in Agalon chest, “If I was to ever hurt you I’d never forgive myself!”

“You ain’t hurt me,” Agalon promised, “Hey, darlin, how many times did Billy hit you yesterday?”

“Just once,” Xaxac promised, hoping he hadn’t made some kind of terrible mistake. He didn’t exactly dislike Billy, though he probably should, and he didn’t want him to die, though he didn’t know why. “I swear, just the once. It just… he hits pretty hard so I guess I went on about it longer than I should have.”

“He does hit pretty hard,” Agalon agreed, “He’s put folks on the floor with one punch before. How’s your tooth feelin?”

“Alright,” Xac said.

“Alright, run back out there and get in the saddlebags. I brought a bunch of carrots from the house and I want you to chew on um today. That vet said you needed to be chewin on hard stuff for your teeth.”

“I barely remember that,” Xaxac sighed, “Master, do you think my eyes are gonna pop out?”

“No, darlin,” Agalon said, “Wish somebody had told me that was a thing what could happen, but no. Besides, if they did you’d probably heal. You heal… so quick. Now go get your carrots.”

“Ok!” Xac turned, and now that he knew he was allowed to run he ran for the gate, threw it open, and hopped up to the horse, bouncing on his feet. He kind of wanted more coffee; he had started getting cravings for it, but it seemed to be the sort of thing you were only supposed to drink in the morning, and only as a treat. But he was bouncing as he made his way back to the table, hopped over the bench and sat there with his bag of carrots. He bit into one and thought of how soft he was getting. He hadn’t been outside in so long that the change in atmosphere made his skin itch. He could feel his clothes on his body, and the realization made him grimace. He realized that if he had been wearing the clothes he had worn as a field slave he would be tearing at his skin. He was getting spoiled.

The place his tooth once was didn’t even hurt anymore. And it was growing back.

“Stretches!” Agalon yelled to the fighters, “We need to work on agility. Ain’t gonna lie. Little disappointed that my best fighter can’t hit a spoiled pleasure slave!”

Xaxac stood, took another bite of his carrot, and watched Agalon. He had his back to him and seemed to have his attention focused solely on the fighters as they moved into formation.

“We’re gonna pair off,” Agalon told them, “By weight class! We gotta work on technique. Wyatt, you got a match here in a couple weeks. I wanna see you move.”

Xaxac swallowed, hopped on his feet, and took off at a sprint around the training area. He reached the back wall and stood there in the shadow cast by the morning sun; he should be in full view, but Agalon still wasn’t looking at him, so he moved, silently, as he had learned to do in the house, as all house servants did. They were unseen unless there was a problem, and Xaxac was there to be seen, not heard. Smile, look pretty, and do as little as possible.

He disappeared into the area behind the small wooden houses, between them and the fence, and found them to be very much like the house he had shared with his family in construction. None of them had glass windows, and no one had even really tried to make proper curtains. The windows were covered by faded strips of fabric, so he peeled one back and saw a large, empty room. If it had ever housed proper beds, they had since been torn open. It seemed that the men just slept on piles of straw. Xac scratched at his forearms and took another bite of the carrot.

Their blankets had been thrown haphazardly about, and it didn’t seem like anyone had even tried to make any furniture apart from the few shelves that lined the walls. Xac didn’t like it. He was suddenly more thankful for his parents, who had taught him to make something from nothing, his mother who made clothing, bedding, and other comforts, his father who made tables, chairs, knitting needles-

And cigarettes. Xaxac wanted a cigarette and wondered if Agalon would give him one.

He moved to the next house and peered inside.

This was what he had been looking for.

The house itself looked almost exactly the same, except Billy sat on top of one of the blankets over a pile of straw. He had a tin cup in his hand, and his head was cocked, as if he was listening to the men outside, listening at Agalon’s voice carrying over them. Xaxac wasn’t tall enough that he thought he could see him, his eyes barely made it over the rim of the window on tiptoe, but Billy’s eyes darted to him at the rustling of the curtain, and every muscle in Xac’s body froze.

“You,” Billy said, and heaved against the wall to haul himself to his feet. His movements were jerky and stiff; it was obvious there was something horribly wrong with him, and when he stood he spilled whatever had been in his cup.

Xaxac said nothing, because his brain had more or less stopped working in any meaningful way as he watched the giant man lumber toward him. He was fairly sure Agalon was wrong about the emotional attributions of his dick, because he was almost positive he could correctly identify fear over happiness.

“Run back to your master, little rabbit,” Billy said as he jerked back the curtain and Xaxac stared up at him.

“Ok,” Xac said meekly, but his body would not obey the giant of a man, though Xaxac tried with all his might to will it to. There was nothing between them but the flimsy wooden wall.

“Get the hell out of here!” Billy demanded, and Xaxac fell from the house against the wall of the fence.

“I’m trying!” he swore. “I’m sorry I- I wanted to tell you that… I wanted to tell you a bunch of stuff.”

“I ain’t got nothin to say to you,” Billy said.

“I’m mad you hit me in my face!” Xaxac said, and thought, even as he was saying it, that it was not an intelligent thing to say, but he was in it now, and there was something wrong with him, and he was going to keep going, “I need my face! I only got this job on account of I got a cute face! You can’t take that from me! I need it!”

“I know you do,” Billy said, staring at him in a way that was so different from the way Agalon stared at him, “You better thank Thesis you’re pretty, because lord knows you couldn’t do nothin else. See me? I can do things. I’m gonna win- gonna win at Satre. Last season they got one of them frilly little artists out here. They put my face on posters. I bring crowds. I make money. People gonna come from all over the world to see me. And I ain’t gonna be talked down to by no pretty little pleasure slave who thinks he’s somebody because he’s fuckin the master. Because you ain’t somebody. You ain’t… you ain’t even a person, you know that? You’re just another pretty little thing he owns. Like the house, or them nice clothes. And when you ain’t pretty no more, he’ll just get some other pretty little thing. And nobody ain’t gonna care. Nobody outside this place even knows you exist.”

Xaxac could feel his heart beating in his chest. He could never remember feeling the emotion he felt in that moment, the kind of hate that you did not just feel in your mind, but in your entire body, the kind that paralyzed your muscles, that coiled them, seized them so tightly they vibrated. This was the kind of rage that poisoned a person, though he did not know that, the kind that began as a seed and could grow into the sort of all-consuming obsession that would ruin someone from the inside out. It was a hate born of fear, of pain.

It hurt, because it was true.

Billy hadn’t cursed at him, hadn’t raised his voice, hadn’t tried to attack him.

But Xac would have rather been punched in the face again.

He hated that he was crying, but he could feel the tears streaming down his face.

“Now get the hell outta here before I break you in half,” Billy said, and Xaxac realized that he had never broken eye contact as he continued, “Run rabbit, run.”

Xaxac ran around the other side of the houses, and he kept running. He didn’t want to see anything except the planks of the fence that came up to meet him on the corners as he pressed against them to change direction, and when he came to the far wall he turned completely, a hundred and eighty degrees and ran back the other way.

He did not go behind the houses again.

Agalon paused in directing the training of the fighters and watched Xaxac speed around the enclosure. As he tried to track him he found his eyes unfocusing; all he could really see was a blur of motion, except for the times he paused to change direction.

That boy moved like a jackrabbit.