Sleepless through the long night, I feel myself teetering on the edge of an abyss. My conscience wages an endless war within, balancing precariously on the fragile line between despair and fear. Thoughts of illegal deeds swirl in my mind like deadly, sweet poison. I watch his small frame shiver on that worn wooden bed, the thin blanket failing to warm his bony body. Not enough food to fill our stomachs, not enough clothes to cover our backs.
This couldn't go on forever.
At first light, I sought out Kian. My mind swirled with worries, anticipating harsh objections and desperate attempts to dissuade me from dragging the boy down this dangerous path. I'd even prepared lengthy arguments, hoping to sway his young heart, which likely still thought too innocently of life's cruelties. Yet all my carefully crafted words evaporated like mist when met with his clear blue gaze. Without surprise or hesitation, he nodded almost instantly. His ready acceptance was like a foolish moth diving into blazing flames, heedless of burns or the lurking shadows of consequence. In those deep eyes, I caught a strange glimmer, equal parts eagerness and inscrutable resignation.
That very afternoon, as dewdrops still glistened on fresh grass, we followed the winding path behind the hill. The moist air carried faint scents of earth and something sweet, probably from the Torbica plants I was searching for.
Every year at this season, around October to November, these mountain fields stir with new life. These cold-loving plants only thrive in remote highlands like these. I paused by a patch of loose soil where tender Torbica sprouts stretched upward, bearing flowers of varied hues. Some boasted regal purple-yellow blossoms, others gentle violet petals and some pure white blooms of pristine beauty. For a moment, their diversity intrigued me, but I quickly dismissed the thought. These flowers meant nothing, only their white sap mattered, for that was what would bring us money.
"So this is your Torbica field?" Kian whispered, his voice barely disturbing the hill's quiet stillness.
"Mhm," I answered absently, my gaze still fixed on the blossoms trembling in the faint wind.
The boy knelt quietly, small hands carefully touching the colorful clusters. His hands shook, whether from the chill or a first-time nervousness with these unusual plants, I couldn't tell.
"Watch the flower heads and new growth. There's no telling what might happen if you get poisoned..." Hesitantly, I spoke. "...Actually, you'd better just stay put and hold the basket for me."
"There are so many colors. How do you know about these?" He asked.
"Partly from old library books, partly from traders at the market."
My hands stilled as I looked at him. His gaunt features glowed with childlike wonder, wide eyes drinking in the strange beauty of the blossoms.
"...Listen, Kian...are you sure about this? This is illegal, you know..."
He lifted his head, his gaze unwavering. "What other path do I have? I won't spend my life starving in this poverty."
The truth of it stung. An orphan without family, without education, raised in deprivation. And yet...
"Do you understand what happens if we're caught?" I lowered my voice gravely. "We'd lose everything. Possibly even..." I trailed off, unwilling to voice the worst possibilities.
He looked up, his gaze held a steadiness that belied his youth. "I understand the risks. But I understand poverty better. At least...this is a path...If there's a chance, shouldn't we take it?" Moving closer, he settled beside me, one tentative finger tracing a flower's edge. "...It's a shot at a different life, isn't it?..."
Watching him, my heart was torn between worry and a fragile hope. After all, I was embarking on this dangerous venture for the exact "chance at a different life" he'd just spoken of. Maybe the only real difference was that I no longer cared much about the future, surviving each day was my sole goal. But perhaps, just perhaps, that "chance at a different life" wouldn't be just a pipe dream.
Yet deep within, an uneasy premonition took root.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting it a deep purple, a quiet calm settled over the village, signaling the peaceful end to a long, tiring day of bountiful harvest. Back home, the old wooden table in my small house became a cherished space where I carefully laid out the freshly picked Torbica. I counted each bloom, one, two...enough, I hoped, to get by for the coming days if the market proved favorable.
My calloused hands gently wrapped the delicate petals into the worn cloth bag. Done with my task, I left my familiar home, walking along the dirt path toward the tavern at the village's edge. Distant sounds of chatter reached me, the familiar hum of a lively place where strong liquor mingled with dim yellow light. That tavern was always bustling, a spot where people sought to forget their troubles, to share stories after a day's hard work.
My small frame, hidden by an old cloak, slipped through the crowd largely unnoticed. People often said no whispers spread faster than in taverns. Here, amidst the clinking glasses and lively stories, information could truly travel as fast as the wind.
Perched on an old wooden stool at the counter, my eyes followed Valka's familiar back. She meticulously measured each drop of liquor, her movements as skilled as an artist crafting a masterpiece. The spicy yet subtly sweet scent of fermented fruit drifted to my nose, awakening all my senses.
"Why are you here again? You know the boss hates kids in the tavern" Valka's voice dropped, its tone far from friendly.
I hesitated, meeting her gaze, trying to keep my composure. "I-I didn't mean anything by it. I just wanted to ask about something..."
"What is it?" She paused her work, her eyes now filled with scrutiny.
"The black market...Do you know where it is?"
For a moment, all movement seemed to freeze, her eyes widening in surprise as she stared directly at me. The surrounding noise also seemed to quiet for an instant.
"The black market, no matter what, is no place for kids to be hanging around."
Valka was a tough woman, so different from Olivia's gentleness. Yet I knew that in this place, any information could be traded for a bit of money. Carefully, I placed a worn cloth pouch on the counter, containing the newest coins I had, likely all my food savings for the entire month. Hoping that my desperation would soften her heart.
"Please" I whispered, my voice pleading.
Valka looked at the money bag, then at me, still with a hint of suspicion. She carefully tucked the bag into her faded apron and turned back to the counter. From underneath, she pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, then settled onto a stool opposite me. Her hand carefully held an old pen as she jotted down a few lines. The soft scratching of the pen on the paper echoed quietly in the room.
"Alright, kid, let me ask you something. What do you need to go to that black market for?" For a moment, her voice softened, tinged with curiosity.
Silently, I lowered my head, determined not to reveal my true purpose. But then, she pushed the paper across to me, the directions to the black market clearly written upon it.
"Well? Tell me, I'm trying to help you.''
Taking the paper, I squinted at the scribbled, often illegible words. My hand quivered with a mix of anticipation and anxiety. Took a deep breath, then I met her gaze, my voice a little unsteady but resolute.
"...I-I'm going there to sell herbs..." A lied. "...I have a younger brother to raise and I genuinely just want to escape poverty..."
A brief silence settled between us, punctuated only by the faint hum of the crowd. For an instant, Valka's eyes softened, as if she saw a reflection of herself in my small, burdened figure. A soft sigh escaped her lips, then, she pulled out another sheet of paper, old and bearing a few ink stains. With careful precision, she wrote down some symbols I couldn't decipher, along with an address.
"If you need help, this place might be useful. I'm not sure what you intend to sell, but this is where all kinds of valuable herbs from across the empire are exchanged..." She paused, her gaze momentarily distant before she quickly shifted her eyes away, seemingly unwilling to let me see the wavering emotion within them.
"...T-Thank you..." I quickly responded.
Standing, I quietly bowed my head and fumbled in my tattered coat pocket, searching for anything to give her in return, even just for a small gift. But everything I owned was already in the pouch on the counter. Seeing my struggle, Valka made a soft clicking sound with her tongue, a fleeting frown on her somewhat stern face.
"No need, it's just a small gesture. In this forgotten place, simply staying alive is hard enough."
Her words tugged at my heart. The unexpected warmth of her empathy and understanding made me feel strangely comforted in this bleak setting. I quickly bowed to her once more, then turned and rushed out of the noisy tavern, heading back down the familiar road to my little wooden house, now bathed in the dim light of the street lamps. I held the paper with the directions and address tightly, a tiny beacon of hope in the overwhelming darkness.
Pushing open the creaking wooden door, I eagerly climbed the worn steps to Kian's small room. After a soft knock and a brief wait for a response, I poked my head inside. He sat at a rickety wooden table, the flickering oil lamp casting long shadows on the mud wall. In that dim light, the stubby, chewed-up pencil in his hand still moved diligently across yellowed pages. I quietly walked over and leaned down to examine his messy handwriting, still clumsy but notably clearer than before.
"Oh, are you practicing writing? It's looking much better now" I whispered, gently ruffling his messy hair.
Kian looked up, his big, round eyes filled with curiosity. "Where did you go?"
Sitting beside him, I carefully pulled the paper Valka had given me from my pocket. "I asked for directions to the black market. Valka even said there's a place where we can sell Torbica."
His eyes suddenly lit up, sparkling with joy as he looked down at the crumpled paper. Mumbling, he tried to sound out the unfamiliar characters. "Bla-Black-market..."
"Tomorrow morning, I'll set off early. The journey to the capital is quite far, so please stay home and look after everything, okay?"
Kian nodded slightly, then unexpectedly wrapped his arms tightly around me. "Do you think this plan will work out?"
"It's hard to say for sure but if we don't try, we'll never know."
"No matter what happens, we'll face it together."
His childish words held such firm trust. In that moment, all my worries seemed to vanish, leaving only determination and hope for a better future for both of us.