A sticky sea breeze clung to the napes of their necks.
The evening sun hung just above the horizon, staining the water in mottled patches of dull lead and rusted orange.

The waves hit the cliff face with heavy, rhythmic violence.
Spray shattered white across their vision.

Two figures moved through a break in the thicket.
They climbed a slope where the bedrock lay exposed.
The packs on their backs groaned at every step.

Metallic contents clattered inside, marking time.

Gravel slipped underfoot.
Shoe soles kicked up dry plumes of dust as they fought for traction.

"Another empty haul today, huh."

The boy in front wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.
His voice was raspy, half-drowned by the roar of the tide.

"The dead are staying quiet... I think the ruins around here are just bored of us. Even the buried stone tablets looked like they were saying, 'You again?'"

The man behind him rolled his shoulders, cracking the joints.
He exhaled a short, heated breath.

"The sea wind has weathered everything too badly. Digging up the ancients requires luck and patience. Neither of which we have... though we have enough thread to sew that mouth of yours shut."

"What we lack isn't luck. It's a vacation."

"…Fair point."

The wind swept their banter away instantly.
All that remained were footsteps and the relentless crash of waves.

It was the end of a day like any other—one that ended in wasted effort.

The rhythm collapsed without warning.

Beyond a mass of crumbled rock, a foreign outline floated in the backlight.
The boy stopped.
He narrowed his eyes.

"…Is someone there?"

At the edge of his vision, in a fissure of the sheer rock face.
A small shadow clung there.

Mud-smeared clothes.
The texture smooth—alien compared to the hemp and cotton of local fishermen.

A girl.
Her fingertips hooked over a protruding rock, desperately trying to haul her body up.

Her thin arms spasmed.
Jagged breathing scraped through the wind.

"A child…? Why in a place like this?"

"Separated from her parents, likely. Leave it."

The man spat the words.
He began to turn away.

Crack.

A dry sound echoed.
The ledge beneath the girl shattered.

Support vanished.
Her small body surrendered to gravity, floating into the air.

Time stretched.
Dust rose.
Her defenseless back burned into their retinas.

"Look out!"

Before the boy’s scream fully left his throat, the heavy mass beside him moved.

The man’s boots gouged deep into the ground, kicking up clods of earth.

Thud.

A dull impact.
Two shadows tumbled down the slope, crushing dry grass before sliding to a stop.

Silence.
Wind returned.
Grass swayed.

The man brushed off dust and sat up.
He checked the bundle in his arms.

The mass was far too light.

The girl didn’t scream.
She was frozen, as if her voice had been torn away.

Held tight in the man’s arms, her lungs expanded and contracted rapidly.
Rock shards tangled in her hair.
Mud-caked fingers clawed at the empty air, clenching and unclenching.

"…She’s alive."

A low groan vibrated in the man’s throat.
The girl’s shoulders jumped.

The boy slid down the slope and dropped to his knees.

"Is she okay? Any injuries?"

He peered into her face.
No reply.

Her pupils were dilated to the limit.
They reflected the two figures, yet didn’t seem to focus.

No rational recognition—only the distilled alarm of a trapped animal.
Words wouldn’t reach her.

The man glared up at the rock face above.
Pebbles rained down from the collapse.

"The ground is brittle here. It’ll come down again. We’re moving to the bottom."

The three relocated to a clearing beneath the trees.
The sound of the tide grew distant.
Damp earth and grass filled the air.

The boy unhooked the canteen from his waist and held it out.

The girl flinched, shrinking back.
But thirst won.
Trembling hands seized the metal and gulped the contents in one breath.

The man stood a short distance away, arms crossed.

"Never seen tailoring like that. …Might be from a nearby village. Wandered in to play and couldn't get back."

The boy turned.

"Wait, we’re leaving her?"

"Telling her not to play in dangerous places is enough. We aren't a charity."

The man turned on his heel.
His boots crushed the soil.

One step.

Walking away.

A rustle of cloth.
The boy’s sleeve was yanked.

He looked down.

The girl’s hand gripped his shirt.
Hard.
Her knuckles bleached white.

A cold tremor traveled through the fabric.

The boy froze.

The girl didn’t speak.
But her gaze—piercing, desperate—stabbed the man’s back.

Don’t leave me.

Air tightened.

The man stopped walking.
A long silence.

Finally, a deep sigh escaped him.
Not resignation—acceptance of weight.

"…Fine. We take her to town. That’s it."

Tension cracked in the boy’s face.
He smiled.

"Yeah. That sounds good."

The man started forward.
The boy followed.
The girl clung to his sleeve like a lifeline, stumbling on shaky legs.

Sunlight leaked through the trees, casting pale shadows on her muddy cheeks.

Watching her profile, the boy murmured:

"Feels like we found something today after all."

The man didn’t look back.
He answered with his back.

"She looks odd, but she's just a kid from somewhere. Once we hit town, we hand her to the guards."

The boy chuckled.
He looked at the girl.

Soft twilight sank around them.

He lifted his right hand lightly.

"I'm Pain. Nice to meet you."

The girl stared at the offered palm.
Recognizing no threat, her shoulders loosened.
Her mouth parted slightly.

Too faint to call relief—
a change so subtle it might vanish like afterglow.

Three shadows stretched long across the ground.

Beyond the sea, the sun disappeared.
The world wrapped in pale blue twilight.

The distant roar of the tide filled the air with a slow, steady rhythm—
like the sleeping breath of a giant beast.