The dust settles over a series of minutes, and the visibility stretches from the cold hand in mine to a blue arm, and then the sack draped over the child’s form. The icy hair, poking up from the top of the head looks wilder than when she was prone, and glowing white eyes blink at me through the haze.

I notice that the white veins that stretch down her arms and legs pulse dimly, barely perceptible compared to the vibrant glow after the first grain of sand. Her face is less pale, with just a hint of blue, making the white eyes more pronounced.

“Who…” The little fingers flex for a moment around my hand. She seems a little dazed. “Who are you?”

“I…don’t know.”

The head tilts up, and though it’s hard to track the pupilless eyes I think she’s taking in my appearance, and I wonder what I look like to this little girl. My hair must be greasy by now, too long without a bath. The braid is frazzled from my recent explosive encounters, and my jeans and t-shirt are covered in the dirt of the forest. I imagine I look insane.

“Are you a lefan?”

“No.” Why does everyone think I’m a guardian? “Why does everyone think I’m guardian?"

“The cloak.” Her hand hasn’t released my own, but the other comes up to gesture at the white fabric puddled around me.

“Ah…Oh, hey, do you know how this works?”

“Works…”

“Functions. Do you know how to turn it on?”

“It is a wadzhemhur [white tool]?” It takes a moment for the words to come through, the native word merging into ones I understand, like it’s adjusting. It comes as a relief, because by now the words without a direct translation are bungling up in my head.

“A… [white tool]. Yes? It does something. Invisibility I think.”

“You made turned it on yourself?”

I nod and I watch her eyes widen. She’s surprised.

“You must have a lot of energy.”

“Energy… is that the trigger?” I consider the sucking sensation from the first time I activated it. Had that been energy?

The ice child nods and I marvel that the icicles on her head appear to sway with the movement. The movement surprises me, and after a moment of digging through my mind I realize why. Ice didn’t do that where I came from. “It takes a large amount of energy to operate a small ribbon of [white tool],” the girl says.

I remembered seeing things like that in the city and on one of the green people. “So it’s not normal to have this much [white tool].”

“Only [guardians]. They are given extra energy.”

“I see.” I look at the sack around the child’s shoulders. The cloud around us has settled even more and I can see bits of dust in the glacial spikes of hair, but it’s harder to notice on the sack where grime has already colored the material. My heart lurches. “Your name, it’s Lorraine right?”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

“Luren.”

I hear a difference, but it’s subtle, and it takes me a second to understand. “Lueraine.” She’s very small. She somehow looks smaller now that she’s awake and for a sudden moment I wonder if she’s melted. Can that happen?

I scan the sack again, this time looking for wet spots, but nothing sticks out. Still, I touch the shoulder of the sack, pinching the fabric between my fingers.

Lueraine watches the movement and her hand tightens around my left before relaxing again. She still hasn’t moved it out of my grasp. I note that the sack is dry and my gaze dips to my next point of worry, the little hand in mine. Shouldn’t she be more wary?

“The…bird person, Nile… Nilefem…”

“Naalfemwe᷾p.”

“Yes. Nile asked me to take care of you.”

She nods, and there’s no surprise to accompany it.

“You and Wail.”

“Welashrepal?”

“Yes… Wailash… Wail.”

“Wail…” She says it slowly, like she doesn’t quite understand the shortened name. “Wail is here?” she asks. Her grip tightens, and I wince because it’s much stronger than this thin child looks. The white eyes widen again and I recognize the expression, so much easier to read than Wail. She’s anxious.

“They took him, the people here. I’m not sure where they went.”

The blue lips curled in distaste. “Zhavleens.”

No translation comes through for that word. “Jovlins? What is that?”

The white eyes blink up at me and her lips lose some of their distaste. The expression merges into something more gentle and I’m trying to figure out why this child is so trusting. “The Zhavleen have used the Welashzhav for generations.”

Welashzhav…Wail’s people? “For what?”

“They need them to process the neshutheel [healing sap].”

“Because of the heat?”

Lueraine looks around at the roots in the dirt around us. “Safe heat in the forest is not easy. There have been fires, very bad fires. The Welashzhav are a safer option, but they are also innocent.” Her fingers tighten around mine. “The Zhavleen use them until they…run out.”

It takes a second to understand what she means. “They’re not bringing him back, are they?”

“They will not.”

“Then we need to get out of here.” My eyes immediately go back to the barred door. I need to get out of here. I have to get Wail. I promised I’d take care of him.

I start to stand when Lueraine tugs me back down and I catch the slight tilt of her head. “Wait. One is coming.”

I frown, my ears searching for signs of a Jovlin, but there aren’t any sounds. “How do you…” Then there’s a click, followed by a series of thudding steps until a familiar green face peaks out from the opening of the tunnel. The white stick is now tucked into his belt and greed lights his eyes.

I can’t remember his name, only that he wasn’t the leader, and he didn’t have the stick when they left. He doesn’t look over at us, but paces a straight line to the white bag, snatching it up. His hands dive inside, arm swirling around in its search. Frustration leeks into his expression and he turns the bag upside down, then inside out. I watch in anticipation, wondering if he’s going to accomplish what I still haven’t managed, kind of hoping he’ll get it to work just so I can watch the process.

A grunt of anger leaves his mouth and his eyes finally leave the bag to look at me…then Lueraine. It’s the eyes that disturb me, because the greed intensifies. His pursed lips tip into the hint of a smile as he looks at her. I don’t like it. It’s bad, I think. He shouldn’t look at her like that.

He steps towards us and I immediately push Lueraine behind me. The Jovlin pauses and displeasure cross his face. “[Blue sand],” the tone is demanding, “you have it. Where is it?”

I don’t respond. Nervousness makes my hand shake. Would he leave if I give it to him? I’m not sure that he would, and the thought solidifies as his gaze shifts back to Lueraine. “The energy. Give it to me.”

“The sand. The sand only.” My voice is shaky and I tighten my grip on the child’s hand. “Let us go and I’ll give you it to you.”

“Not enough.” He licks his lips and my stomach rolls. “Give it to me. Give it all to me.”

“You can’t have her.”

His hand flickers out, the white ribbon rapped around it and the roots retract into the ceiling. I feel relief at the opportunity of escape, but the easy show of power fills me with dread. He hasn’t slowed his pace and his wrist turns, the vines in the rest of the room twisting and rumbling, breaking through the dirt walls to stretch towards us. The smile curls into a smirk and he laughs.

He’s going to hurt her. He’s going to hurt her.

I won’t let him.

I leap forward, shock filters across his face, and somewhere in my mind a door blows open.