At daybreak, a thin light came through the cracks in the wooden shed.It was the kind of light that carried no warmth.It lay across the dirt floor in narrow strips, pale and cold, and the dust moved slowly inside it as if reluctant to wake.
The shed still held the night's chill.Wei could feel it on his cheeks and on the back of his neck.The boards around him smelled of damp wood, straw, and old iron.Somewhere, water dripped.He counted the drops until he lost the numbers.
Then he heard steps.
The steps were not fast, but they were uneven.
One light, one heavy, and each one felt as if it pressed against Wei's chest.
He tilted his head, listening. His fingers curled tight around his pants.He couldn't see anyone. The wind slipped through the cracks in the boards, cold on his face.
Time passed...
He didn't know how long before a low cough broke the silence. It dragged up from deep inside a man's chest, thick and stuck, like someone trying to throw himself out with all he had.
Wei looked at Minnow without thinking. Minnow kept his head down, turning a few dry blades of grass in his hands. The soft rustle sounded like time grinding itself forward.
He wasn't surprised. As if footsteps and coughing were simply part of the air.
"You'll meet someone soon," Minnow said. "A man you need to know."
The words were soft, but they carried a weight that pressed the breath out of Wei.
Wei frowned a little, maybe another guard.
"Bang. Bang. Bang."
Suddenly a cane, or maybe a vine whip, beat against the door.
Heavy.
Angry.
It felt less like a warning and more like the man outside was beating out his bad temper on the wood.
"I'm opening the door! All of you, stand back!"
The voice outside was hoarse, dragging the last bit of air it had. It sounded like an old wolf smoked out by years of fire, with ash stuck in its throat.
The boys took two slow steps back. None of them looked scared.
Minnow didn't even stop playing with the straw.
Their calm made Wei even more curious.
The door creaked open.
A foot came in first.
He wore an old cowhide boot with a broken strap. The toe was so hard it hit the floor with a dull, hollow knock. His other foot was bare, wrapped only in a filthy strip of cloth. He limped as he entered.
He swung the vine whip in his hand, shaking it off like a dead fish. Dry black flakes clung to it, like old blood, or something else.
His cough followed him inside.
Deep.
Long.
As if a stone had lived in his chest for years.
Each cough made you think he might fall over in the next second. But every time, he caught himself. He stayed upright.
"Did you boys miss me?"The greasy voice drifted in with the opening door.
A few of the boys hurried forward, grinning and bowing.
"Sir, you're free enough to visit us today—"
Before they could finish, the vine whip snapped between them, keeping them back.
The others stood at once, forming a line. The quick-witted ones even nodded and bent a little at the waist.
Wei sat still in the shadows, watching the man make his entrance.
The "jailer's" bare foot stopped in front of Minnow. Mud clung to his toes. The veins on the top bulged like a few dying worms.
His hand reached out, slow and dirty, toward Minnow's cheek.
Minnow seemed to notice him only then. He stood up quickly and stepped aside, avoiding the hand without making it obvious.
The jailer clicked his tongue.
"You're still stubborn. One day you'll pay for it."
His eyelids lifted halfway. His voice was rough as sandpaper.
He turned and looked at Wei.
"New one, aren't you? Came from the woods?"
Wei swallowed. He hadn't even formed a reply when the vine whip fell across his shoulder.
The crack was sharp. The pain was worse.
"When I tell you to stand, you stand. You deaf?" the jailer barked.
Wei let out a tight breath and got to his feet.
When Wei stood, his body rose like a young pine. He was straight and quiet, half a head taller than the jailer.
The jailer froze for a moment, as if suddenly aware of how close he was standing.
He stepped back. He didn't swing the whip again.
"Fine," he said. "Tomorrow, you two will have the honour to give blood food."
He said it the way a man talks about the weather.
A few boys nearby looked at Wei with gloating eyes.
Someone muttered in the dark,"One acts holy. The other's just dumb and blind."
The jailer swept his gaze toward the voice, pleased.
"Do well, and next time you get extra food."
Then he hacked up a wad of phlegm streaked with red, turned, and led a few boys out. Their footsteps faded down the path.
The boys chosen for today's blood feeding didn't fight. Didn't speak.They simply walked out of the shed like livestock being moved.
Soon a rough voice shouted from outside:"Move. Don't drag your feet like corpses."
Footsteps scraped over stone, like bodies without souls. Then even that was gone.
What remained was cold silence.Air thinned out. Only the boys' shallow breathing filled the room.
Wei kept his eyes fixed on the door. His hands had curled into fists, knuckles white. He didn't notice.
Minnow saw the anger burning in Wei's eyes.Softly, he said, "He's the jailer here. We call him Iron-Throat."
As he spoke, he held out a little dog woven from dry grass.
Wei stared. He had never seen hands so deft. A few strands of straw had become a tiny dog, lively enough that it seemed ready to bark.
The fire in his chest, the shame, the sting of the whip, all of it began to thaw, like ice meeting sunlight.
He lowered his head and turned the grass dog in his fingers. He didn't want anyone to hear his breath quicken, especially Minnow.
So he held it tight in his chest.
That only made the pain sharper.