It was the first guard, the one with the scar. Around him, the other humans tried not to stare and ignored the scene. They did not need a translation to understand the guard’s tone.

On the ground, a boy had crumpled into the dirt. His back rose and fell like he was breathing heavily, and his hands were tight fists by his head.

“Get up,” snapped the guard once more.

Beside him, the second guard looked amused while the third had a worried expression passing over his face.

“Mizar, just give him a minute,” the third guard bit out.

Mizar… Mitchel quickly filtered into his memory. Either a word I don’t know… Or a name?

The boy on the ground finally pulled himself together and got onto his knees, glancing up at the guards that had surrounded him.

Mitchel’s eyes widened when he realized it was the same boy from the haggler’s shop, Ayo. Without saying anything, Ayo turned back towards his quota and begun again. The tension in his body made his movements jerky and unstable. Even though Mitchel was a good distance away, he could see the wideness of Ayo’s eyes.

Fear. Anger. Confusion.

It was only heightened when the antagonistic guard did not move, towering over Ayo.

“Mizar, come on. Leave him be,” the third guard said.

“You sure are worried about the human, Pax,” teased the second guard.

Mizar. Pax. These were names then.

“It’s too early for this,” the guard named Pax pressed. “I just want to get today over with.”

“Just so we can repeat the same shit tomorrow?” Mizar said, his voice sharp and gravelly.

Ayo jerked at the sound, pausing for just a moment in his work before returning. Finally, Mizar turned away and joined the other two guards that had backed away from Ayo.

Mitchel physically deflated once they were a distance from the haggler, then tensed when he realized they were growing closer to him.

A new voice leapt out behind Mitchel.

“Mizar, Yuen, Pax, what seems to be the problem?”

Mitchel tried his best to subtly turn towards to the new Rwequek. Once his eyes met the electric blue ones, they both widened.

It was the guard from last night, the one who had spared Mitchel. The Rwequek blinked in recognition but brought his gaze back to the three other guards.

“Ah, Cherzil, nothing is the matter.” Mizar called out and waved his hand through the air as if to brush aside the comment. “How’s working for the higher ups?”

Mitchel tensed at Mizar’s tone. The inflections of his voice made the statement feel more like a jest than a genuine question.

The guard Cherzil sucked in a tight breath and set his jaw.

“Fine, thank you,” he said, his voice much richer than Mizar’s.

To this, the guard with the green and gold chords, Yuen Mitchel presumed, sneered.

“You’re so desperate to get your promotion, aren’t you? Trying to find any little thing wrong with our work so you can run off to the higher ups?” he gloated.

Mizar placed a hand on Yuen’s shoulder.

“What a rude thing to say,” Mizar drawled, his eyes sparked with a dangerous light. “You know how prestigious working with the noble Alforah house is.”

Cherzil was now only ten or so feet from Mitchel. His body was taunt with anger, his narrowed eyes threatening the other guards to continue.

“Your words mean nothing to me,” Cherzil said, his voice deep with displeasure and his eyes flashing between each guard. “I only act when I see misconduct, Mizar. You told me there was no problem here, and so I will leave you three be.”

He bowed his head as a sign of respect but met them with an intimidating glare.

“But I will return if I see that I am needed.”

He let the words settle for a moment, before turning on his heel and embarking on the trail.

The other guards immediately fell into muttered insults Mitchel could not interpret without some creative guidance. A rivalry between Rwequeks was not what Mitchel expected.

“Who does he think he is, pretending he’s one of us,” spat Yuen. “He’ll sell his soul to Alforahs and their cause.”

“He was one of us. We were all in the war together,” said Pax, who had been silent throughout the interaction.

Mizar scoffed.

“We’re trained soldiers. We shouldn’t be stuck here, being watch guards over the government’s project,” he said out, his hand resting dangerously over his weapon. “He’s the type that wants to be here.”

Mitchel heaved the significantly smaller portion of Oblinium out of the ground, trying his best not to stare with the guards so close.

“Selling your soul is the only way to get power anymore,” Pax said.

“That’s not true,” Mizar shot back, his voice in a low growl.

Yuen let out a brisk laugh.

“What are you going to do about it then? You think you’ve got enough influence to change anything?” he said with a grin on his face.

“Maybe not back home,” Mizar said, his hand dangerously resting on his weapon. “But we’ve got power here.”

Mitchel’s skin crawled as he walked away from the scene.

That one could have definitely hurt Winston, he thought, biting his lip as he lugged the rock onto the conveyer belt.

But what can I even do about it? The other two guards seemed less committed to their job, but Mizar looked as if he were waiting to strike at any infraction.

How have I never seen him before?

“Mitch!”

Mitchel startled and looked up, his hand hovering over the conveyer belt’s panel. Two boys walking towards him: one with pitch-black hair and the other sporting bright orange. The black haired boy was grinning.

Mitchel could recognize that sly grin from anywhere. It was Lucas.

“What are you doing here?” Lucas asked, “I always see Winnie working towards the north, not you.”

“I thought I’d try Winnie’s luck at these mines while he’s resting,” Mitchel answered. He pointed to the redhead, “Who is this?”

“Oh! Right… Ozzie this is my family member Mitchel,” Lucas introduced with a casual hand on the redhead’s shoulder.

Ozzie, as he was named, was a few inches shorter than Lucas with a pale face full of freckles and big green eyes that shone with nervousness. He smiled hesitantly, but stuck out a hand to greet Mitchel.

“Nice to meet you,” Ozzie said, his voice soft yet polite.

Mitchel returned the greeting with a firm handshake.

“Lucas said you two looked similar,” Ozzie began, his eyes flickering back and forth between them, “But I never expected this much so!”

“Everyone says he’s a mini version of me,” Michel grinned, then turned to Lucas. “Pero soy más inteligente.”

“Cállate, Mitch!” Lucas huffed, pushing on Mitchel’s shoulder in protest.

“Did he tell you he kicked a hole in our wall last night?” Mitchel egged on.

“Mitch!”

Ozzie’s face burned red as if he were embarrassed for his friend. Mitchel decided in that moment he liked Ozzie as a person.

“I’ve never seen you around before,” Mitchel commented as he turned back to the screen to finish typing his ID. “Did you guys meet playing soccer or…?”

Picking up his equipment, Mitchel encouraged the group to start moving when he set upon the trail. The two boys quickly followed by his side.

Ozzie shook his head, a small smile on his face. Though Lucas’s head had been ducked and his ears red, he looked up at the mention of soccer. Lucas grinned and clapped a hand on Ozzie’s shoulder, almost knocking the poor boy over. As he rose his head, it seemed Ozzie didn’t mind.

“No, no, no,” Lucas insisted. “Ozzie isn’t the soccer type.”

“Or any sport,” Ozzie added smiling softly at Lucas.

“We are in the same class for mining,” Lucas said and pulled at the collar of his shirt. Stained on his skin was his identification number and the Rwequekian number “4” in brackets. “So I see him all the time on the way home. His hair isn’t easy to miss.”

“My house is at the end of your street,” Ozzie added. “So we’re not too far away.”

“I see,” Mitchel hummed.

When they returned to the flat area on the hill, the good mood between the three must have been apparent, as the second guard made eye contact. Mitchel scowled.

“Ah, that looks like my cue to leave,” Ozzie said after noticing the guard.

Lucas frowned. “You can work with us, if you’d like?”

Ozzie shook his head and pointed across the trail of dirt to a worker. Mitchel’s eyes lit up in recognition. It was the boy who had fallen earlier, Ayo.

“My family member is over there, I’ll just go join him,” Ozzie said.

A thought crossed Mitchel’s mind just as the boy was turning away

“Ozzie— just so you know— it seemed like Ayo was pretty fatigued,” he said.

Ozzie’s eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“He gets fainting spells every so often, because of the heat,” Ozzie murmured. “Thank you for telling me. I didn’t know you knew him.”

Mitchel grinned.

“He’s dating one of our family members,” Mitchel said as casually as he could, relishing as Lucas’s mouth dropped open. “I don’t want to see him to get hurt.”

“What?” Lucas interjected.

Ozzie’s eyes widened for a moment and nodded. He gave Mitchel a smile as he passed.

“It was nice meeting you,” he said softly.

Mitchel flashed an all teeth smile. Both him and Lucas watched the redhead walk down the path. Mitchel’s eyes found their way back to the guard and his smile dropped.

With a little too much force, Mitchel flipped his eyepiece back on and began to get back to work. Once they were both settled in their job, the guard seemed to lose interest. He heard Lucas breathe in relief.

“Gabriella’s dating Ayo?” Lucas whispered in incredulity. “He’s the guy she’s been gawking over?”

“Seems that way.”

Lucas kept looking up at Ayo with his mouth still slightly agape.

“That’s just gross. I don’t want her friends and my friends to get all— all intermingled.”

Mitchel snorted, digging into the dirt.

“Have you met Ayo before? Maybe at Ozzie’s house?”

“Yeah… He seemed nice… But—”

“But what? Don’t try to make up an excuse to not like him.”

“I’m not—!

“Lucas, your voice.”

“I’m not,” Lucas shot back at a softer volume. “I just dunno how to feel about it, that’s all.”

“What? About him as a person?” Mitchel paused and then grinned. “About love?”

“No,” Lucas grumbled, his voice almost a pout.

“You’re a twelve-year-old. I don’t expect you to understand love yet.”

“Oh, and you do.”

Mitchel laughed, chucking some debris behind him. He let the debris and his thoughts settle for a moment, mulling over the idea.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt romantic love,” Mitchel admitted. Lucas paused in his work for a moment to listen. “And I don’t really think I need it. Familial love, platonic love, they are all more important to me.”

“Isn’t that kind of sad?” Lucas asked, his voice unusually soft.

“I don’t think so. I’ve got all of you to support me, and that’s enough.”

Lucas did not reply for a moment.

“What about your real family? Your mom and dad?”

Mitchel froze, his chest suddenly tight. The memories of his father traveling Europe flashed behind his eyelids, his sister falling through the ocean’s surface, his tio’s sailboat, his mother’s warm deserts. The sensations grew in him like fire, comforting at first but soon burning, making his eyes tingle from its smoke, his throat closing around ash.

“They’re not here right now,” Mitchel said quickly. He had not meant to, but his words snapped through the air like sparks.

Lucas did not seem to mind Mitchel’s tone.

“I guess I might be jealous,” Lucas shrugged, his eyes on his work. “Like, Gabbi’s got someone now that can give her undivided attention. I miss that. From my mom.”

Mitchel closed his eyes.

Why is he having this conversation with me?

Why not Winston?

He swallowed down his words so they would not escape him.

I can’t handle this. I can’t handle remembering them.

Lucas did not heed Mitchel’s silence and continued, a new passion in his voice.

“If I had an especially bad day, she’d make me this rice pudding that was to die for,” Lucas smiled. “I just miss her— my mom. I wonder if she’s ok.”

Mitchel tried to focus on his work, methodically going through the movements. He had wondered the same things about his family, but if he dwelled on the thought too long, it would consume him. Suffocate him. He would not be able to smile or get through the day so shoving them into the back of his mind was the only way he could cope.

For the second time that day, he allowed a memory to resurface.

“My mom made something like that,” Mitchel said. “It was called gossi. It would make the whole house smell like vanilla. My dad would always add cinnamon.”

This, of all things, seemed to pacify Lucas who smiled softly and continued to speak about his parents. And as they progressed through their work, Mitchel allowed himself to relish in the memory for far longer than expected.

Parental love and milk rice. Warm hugs and cinnamon.

For once, Mitchel enjoyed his day at work.

***

The good mood between the two retained its energy as the sun waxed across the sky. The heat increased slowly and desperately, as if trying to draw out the suffering of the workers below. Mitchel was thankful his skin only tanned in the scorching daytime, but he was not imperceptible to dehydration. Him and Lucas stopped every half hour for rest. It was nearing the end of their workday, five o’clock, but that was not end for him. He still needed to consider paying off the debt.

Damn this heat. Damn this rock. Damn the Rwequeks.

A large thud pulled Mitchel from his swirling thoughts. For the second time, Ayo had fallen into the dirt. But this time, he had not gotten up. The three guards hovered over his body like vultures.

And did nothing to help him.

Finally, the guard Mizar bent down to the boy’s level. He was poking the Ayo’s side with the toe of his boot but received no reaction.

The taste of ash filled up Mitchel’s mouth. After the entire interaction between the three guards and Cherzil, Mitchel knew what threat they were capable of. A visceral urge to speak welled up in the back of Mitchel’s throat.

“No! Don’t touch him!”

Mitchel had not spoken fast enough. Desperation cut through the air as a blur of orange rushed towards Ayo.

“Ozzie…” Lucas mumbled beside him, his voice strained.

Ozzie’s workbag thumped loudly against his side, the wind catching his flame-colored hair and his green-colored eyes showcasing his worry. Only the arm of a guard stopped him from collapsing next to Ayo’s side.

“Let me through!” Ozzie pleaded, trying and failing to push past the guard. “I’m his family, please!”

Ozzie tried to pull away, but the guard Yuen clamped his hand down on the boy’s forearm. There was no escaping the steel-like grip.

“Take the kid away from here,” Mizar said.

Yuen nodded and roughly pulled Ozzie further away from Ayo.

Beside Mitchel, Lucas was already moving. His face was knotted with the same anger and fear Mitchel knew all too well. Instead of stopping him, Mitchel ditched his equipment and moved towards the scene by Lucas’s side.

“He needs— he needs water—!” Ozzie cried, pleading up at the towering guards.

“Shut up!” snapped Yuen, who was restraining him.

“I can’t understand him,” Mizar muttered.

Mitchel’s gut constricted uncomfortably. Winston’s limp, sick body came into mind with his pained expression mirroring Ayo’s.