Moments after Leon's departure, the hall's heavy air buzzed with the next set of orders. The man with the commanding presence and the thick beard wasted no time in continuing his grim routine. "Take the cattle to the docks," he barked at his subordinates. "We've got a ship's load to unload." His voice, deep and authoritative, cut through the silence, setting everyone into motion.
His eyes, sharp and assessing, briefly met Adachi's. There, he noticed the conspicuous, swollen state of Adachi's left arm, now a deep shade of purple, a clear sign of injury. Yet, he offered no comment, no flicker of empathy or concern. With a mere glance, he acknowledged the injury and then, just as quickly, dismissed it, turning away.
A peculiar voice drifted through the air, its tone whimsical yet haunting, "Tell me little Lamb, which things are mine to take?" The words, cryptic and out of place, sent a ripple of confusion through Adachi. He scanned his surroundings, trying to pinpoint the origin of the voice, but before he could discern its source, a gentle tug on his right hand diverted his attention.
The boy who had attempted to rouse him earlier now stood beside him, an offer of assistance in his eyes. "Older brother, let me help wrap your arm," he said, his voice imbued with a blend of timidity and eagerness. Adachi's gaze lowered to meet that of the boy's, taking in the sight of him for the first time. The boy's hair was as white as snow, a stark contrast to his almost white skin. As their eyes met, Adachi noticed the boy's hesitance, a fear of rejection lingering in his gaze.
Taking a closer moment to observe, Adachi was taken aback by the boy's unique features: notably large drippy ears, legs covered in fine hair, and most strikingly, the distinct shape of his legs, reminiscent of a lamb's. Despite the initial shock, Adachi's curiosity outweighed any sense of alarm. "What are you?" he found himself asking aloud, a question he hadn't intended to voice. Realizing his bluntness, he quickly covered his mouth, but it was too late.
The boy's response was one of unguarded enthusiasm. His large, black eyes, which seemed to hold galaxies within them, widened further. Ears fluttering with excitement amidst his snowy locks, he exclaimed, "I am a Mithra!" The innocence and pride in his declaration brought a smile to Adachi's face.
"And your name?" Adachi inquired, intrigued by this curious being before him.
"G'em Tia, brother!" the boy beamed, his voice carrying a note of camaraderie.
"Call me Adachi," he responded, warmth in his tone.
"Yes, brother!" G'em Tia's reply was filled with joy, and without any hint of hesitation, he led Adachi to have his injured arm tended to.
As they moved together, Adachi became acutely aware of the stares directed at them. It seemed unusual, he did not know that, for a Hyur like himself to interact so openly with one from the beast fold, especially to the extent of physical contact was a taboo. Sensing the weight of their gazes, Adachi turned to G'em Tia, puzzled. "Why are they looking at us like this?"
G'em Tia's reaction was immediate and telling. He shrank slightly, the excitement fading into uncertainty. "Um," was all he managed.
Adachi, sensing the weight of their conversation, opted for a change in topic, hoping to ease the palpable tension. "I arrived here with a girl who has bright red hair, a bit taller than you. Have you seen her around?" he inquired, his voice laced with a faint hope. She had been whisked away earlier by one of the towering figures that loomed over their grim surroundings.
G'em Tia's response was swift, yet it carried a heavy truth. "She's being taken out of here, to the far northeast. She's being sold there, if she was taken earlier," he explained, his voice steady but hinting at the grim realities of their situation.
Adachi, faced with the bleakness of what G'em Tia's said, simply responded with, "I see." The depth of his feelings, a turbulent mix of fear, anger, and sorrow, was something he chose not to voice. The conversation halted there, an unspoken agreement to steer clear of further heartache.
In a gesture of care, G'em Tia beckoned Adachi to sit on a nearby rock. He retrieved a stick and some fabric hidden behind another stone and began to tenderly clean Adachi's wound with water that dripped down the hall's walls. As he wrapped Adachi's hand, securing the fabric with the stick for support, G'em Tia's innocent inquiry broke the silence. "Are you sad?" he asked, looking up with eyes full of concern. Adachi's reply was simple yet laden with emotion. "I am," he confessed.
"What does it feel like?" G'em Tia pressed further, his curiosity unwavering. Before Adachi could muster a response, a voice echoed inside his head, offering a metaphor for his sorrow: "A long hunt with no kill." Startled by the internal voice, Adachi's gaze darted around in a futile attempt to locate its source, but the urgency of their situation left no room for such investigations.
"We should get going to the ship brother, before the slaver comes here," G'em Tia urged, a hint of worry in his tone.
Rising to heed G'em Tia's advice, Adachi noticed the disdainful glances cast their way by some of the other captives. "Look at the trash kissing up to the new guy; he thinks he'll protect him," they sneered, their words dripping with contempt.
In the midst of the derisive sneers from the captives, something dawned upon Adachi, drawing a connection between the disdain the Hyurs harbored for the Taru Taru in San d'Oria and the Mithra in this place. A surge of anger coursed through him, fueled by the unfair treatment of the innocent, particularly one as guileless as G'em Tia.
Not thinking straight, Adachi decided to act. With a protective instinct taking hold, he firmly took G'em Tia's hand, in support. "Lead the way," he said, his voice steady. As he did so, he cast a piercing glare at those who had mocked the young Mithra. It was a look so intense and full of promise that it served as a silent warning: he would not tolerate any harm or disrespect towards his newfound companion.
The effect of his gaze was immediate and palpable. The mockers, who had felt emboldened by their numbers and the shared cruelty of their environment, suddenly sensed the gravity of the situation. Behind Adachi, their eyes caught the silhouette of a fearsome figure, a manifestation as per to say.
As Adachi walked away alongside G'em Tia, a whisper seemed to brush past his ears, "I remember them all."
Yet, amidst the turmoil of his thoughts, he chose not to dwell on it, dismissing the fleeting words as quickly as they had come.