"Isn't that your fifth cup? The pond is barely thirty steps fr—" Jarza began, voice floating somewhere above Alpheo's head, until his eyes narrowed, then widened. "Hold on… that's red. Where in the frozen depths did you find wine?"
"Well, my towering friend, the same way we've acquired every blessing in our miserable lives, from the air in our lungs to the freedom in our chests. By luck."
He threw a gaze at Alpheo,and smiled.
His hair, long and blond, though it had spent most of his life a filthy, matted black, caught the firelight like pale wheat. A miracle born from that hidden pond they'd stumbled upon: water cold enough to bite the bones, clean enough to feel like rebirth. They'd bathed, scrubbed their canteens, and for the first time since breaking their chains, actually looked like free men.
Two weeks of freedom.Two weeks of stolen air.It felt like they had lived and died entire lives in that span.
