"Garet! I'm gonna catch you!"
Liera darted through the dusty courtyard of the orphanage, her bare feet slapping against the ground. The afternoon sun warmed her shoulders as she stretched her hand toward the boy in front of her.
"Try!" he yelled over his shoulder, and for a heartbeat he actually sounded like he believed he could outrun her.
He didn't. Mostly because his foot caught on a rock.
He went down with a yelp. A surprised, high-pitched sound as his knees dragged against stone and dirt. Liera halted to a stop, dust rising around her like a tiny cloud.
Garet tried to push himself up. "I'm fine," he muttered, even though blood already dribbled in thin, messy trails down his leg and elbow.
"You're not fine," Liera said.
He tried to shrug. "It's just a scrape."
"Doesn't mean it doesn't hurt."
The other children gathered around, three of them, all familiar faces, all wearing the same mismatched clothes and sunburned noses. They leaned in curiously.
