The room was small - no more then five paces in any direction - and had obviously been abandoned for a while. The craggy stone walls were crumbling, weeds sprouted through the dirt floor, and only the roof's framework remained. Faint burn marks scarred the walls.
"Home sweet home!" Flute cried, throwing himself down onto the dirt floor, making a show of kissing the old stone.
"Or as much of one as we'll ever have," Thorn said.
"Thorn, Flute, Crow," Arum said, leaning on the splintered door frame.
Flute leaped to his feet and saluted smartly, the way the Guards did whenever their Captains were around. "Yes, your Lordship!"
Arum chose to ignore Flute. He was always like this when we moved to a new place - it was his way of covering up his anxiety. We all felt it, every time the Guards came after us, and we all had ways of dealing with it. This is Flute's. "We'll go down to the market, check out the city and get some food. Wing" - me - "you stay here and set up. Clean up of the place, put out the mats, gather wood."
"What about me?" asked Dust, our youngest at only nine.
"Just hang around outside. Play with Fish, or feed the horses or something," Crow told him.
"Don't let anyone see you," Arum added.
"Why can't I come with you?" Dust pouted. "I'll be quiet, and stay behind you, and help you carry things, and not bother you or ask questions or anything I promise!"
"Just stay here," Crow said.
"Can I help Wing?" he asked.
"No," Arum said shortly. The four ducked through the doorway, Flute giving me an apologetic look before he disappeared.
"Why does Arum always make you do everything?" Dust asked. I knelt on the dirty floor and dumped my bags, picking out the six thick woolen mats we used as beds. Shoving everything else against the wall, I shook out the mats and laid them out, side by side. They barely fit in the tiny room.
“You hear me?” demanded Dust. I considered ignoring him but knew from experience that he wouldn't stop pestering me until he got an answer.
“I don't know what you mean,” I told him finally, feigning innocent incompetence. The others must have noticed, of course, but they never questioned it. Arum was our leader, the strong one, the one who kept us together. Who kept us safe. And if he thought that I was fit for work as the group's slave, none of them were going to protest. But Dust just couldn't let it go.
“You know,” insisted Dust. “The way he makes you carry all the bags, even though Flute and Thorn and Crow and him are bigger. And how he always makes you double with him on Fletcher when we need to go fast, instead of just stealing you your own horse. And how he orders you around, even more then the rest of us, about the stupidest little things.” Putting on a low falsetto, he began to imitate Arum. “Wing, do this. Wing, do that. No, Wing, you stupid little turd, you're doing it all wrong.”
I shrugged. “He does that to everybody. It's just the way he is.”
Dust scowled. “The worst part is you let him. You never argue with him, or disobey him. Or that one time, when he hit you, and you just sat there. I've seen you kill men for things less then that, and you didn't even hit him back.”
I sighed. Loudly. “Dust, I need to finish setting up. Go outside or I'll kick you out myself and you'll be lucky if your supper isn't burned tonight.”
Sticking his tongue out at me, Dust stalked out of the hut.
(Unfinished - to lazy/uninspired to write more right now.)
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