Caged by Elin Wyn

Author:Elin Wyn [Wyn, Elin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: ClockWalk
Published: 2017-10-10T05:00:00+00:00

Dinner was a noisy affair, but I’d take the laughter and chaos of the children over the bravado of the mess hall any time.

After the meal, we offered to help with the cleaning, but Marga waved us away. “The children have chores now, don’t they?” Amid much muttering, the table was cleared and the sounds of washing up started from the back.

“Let us at least pay for our portions,” I reached for the credits in my pocket.

Granny Z shook her head. “Credits come and go. Favors are a much better barter item.”

“We don’t know how long we’ll be here,” I started, but she cut me off.

“I’m old. Plan to be older. I can wait, if needed.” Granny Z pushed up from her chair and headed upstairs.

“If you go out, don’t stay out too late,” she called over her shoulder.

Zayda and I glanced at each other, amused.

“Nothing you can do with each other could shock me, children,” she turned at the landing. “But it’s not safe after full dark. Don’t be on the streets if you can help it.”

Marga came back, arms full of a sleepy child. “The viewport on this level is lovely, and pretty close, if you want to take a walk.” She glanced at me. “I’m not sure if there are any other places I’d recommend, unless you were looking to burn off steam.”

That made no sense, but Zayda patted my arm and shook her head. “He’s not prowling for a fight, promise. The viewport sounds perfect.”

We strolled in silence along the narrow streets, following Marga’s directions. This sector of the level was quiet, but the rumble of a crowd sounded far behind us.

Zayda’s fingers curled around mine, warm and soft, the fabric dress swishing around her knees with each step.

“Are you alright here?”

She stopped, confusion wrinkling her forehead as she looked up at me. “What?”

A pale woman with tangled dark hair staggered past us, then disappeared between two buildings. I tucked Zayda closer to me, wanting her near.

Words had never been my strong point, but I tried again. “Is this too much like where you grew up?” That was a stupid question. I never should have started down that path, but dinner had reminded me of Zayda’s story of lost children, lost or forgotten.

“Void, no.” She wrapped her arms around me, rested her head on my chest. “The kids look happy there, loved.” We resumed our walk, my arm around her shoulders, fingers idly rubbing where the dress exposed her skin.

“There was none of that on my old level. At least, none that I found.”

I pulled her tighter to me, but, no matter how I racked my brain, there wasn’t a good response.

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