Year 2145 of the Fifth Epoch.
Irin's finger felt the sharp sting of the rat's teeth like two hot needles.
He suddenly woke up and flung his hands instinctively. The rat quickly vanished into the darkness with an indignant squeal before Irin's mind could picture what was happening. As he moved to sit upright, his back painfully slammed against the wall.
Ah... Yes, he had almost forgotten he was in prison and not a spacious bedroom.
"Damn it," he cursed under his breath, shaking his finger and sucking at the blood welling there. "These filthy rats never let one have a pleasant sleep…"
Irin peered through the barred window of their cell and realized it was not morning yet. Mornings were brief due to the winter season.
Beside him was Barak, who was fast asleep. Barak and he shared a cell on the lower tier of block C. The older man lay sprawled across the narrow shaft of wood that passed for a bed, with one arm tucked beneath his head and the other hanging loosely at his side.
This prison was located in the deep mountains of Marhan, one of the northern cities of Tajara.
For someone who had grown up inside a prison that housed the worst criminals in all of Tajara, Irin didn't know what good sleep felt like. He was unfamiliar with the feeling of waking up refreshed and comfortable.
He had never known the concept of an actual bed or what it was like sleeping on one. The 'bed' in his cell consisted of splintered timber shafts laid across iron bars and topped with straw.
And these straws attracted the giant rats.
Barak used to tell him stories. Stories about sleeping in beds so wide one could roll endlessly without fear of tumbling.
"You sink into them," Barak had once said, staring up at the ceiling as if he could see another sky beyond it.
Irin had listened with wide eyes, trying to imagine how it felt. However, his attempts to envision it were a complete disaster.
Carefully, he settled back down on the shaft, avoiding anything that would disturb Barak. Irin pulled his hands nearer his chest to shield them from more rat bites, then shut his eyes for extra sleep.
'Just a few minutes of sleep would suffice,' he thought.
Some minutes later.
"Get up," Barak said in a low voice.
Irin rubbed his eyes and lazily sat up. Barak, who was already awake, sat across the straw bed watching the morning rays that spilled through the window.
His gaze dropped to Irin's hand. "You're bleeding."
"Those damn rats bit me," Irin said.
Barak's expression darkened instantly. "I told you always to keep your hands tucked in."
"Not like those stubborn rats care," Irin replied quietly. "They'd bite anyway."
Barak reached for the tin cup by the wall, poured a little water onto a rag, and gave it to Irin. "Clean it. Lest you get infected."
Irin did as he was told. Barak tore a piece of flatbread he's been saving in half and handed it over without ceremony.
"You don't have to save your rations for both of us. Mine is enough to sustain me," Irin said.
Barak snorted. "Take this and eat."
He would always say it in that manner. A command disguised as permission.
Irin took a bite of the bread and chewed slowly, resisting the urge to eat it too fast.
Across the cell, a man with a damaged face leaned close to the bar.
"Still feeding your miracle child, Barak?" the man called. "Careful. He'll grow too fat at this rate."
A few laughs were heard down the corridor.
Someone else chimed in. "So tell us again, old man. How'd you end up with him in a place like this?"
Barak's hands went still. He then shrugged, acting as if the question were uninteresting.
"My wife died in labor," he said.
"A neighbor took pity," Barak went on, "and brought the boy to me during a visit. He placed him in a basket and covered him in fruit so no one would notice. Eventually, the guards found out. They overlooked it since I work so hard here.
The story never changed. Not once in all the years Irin could remember. And everyone believed it.
Though none of it was true. Speaking the truth was a dangerous and expensive act in prison.
The bell finally rang, and the guards came in with keys rattling in their hands.
"It's time for coal detail!" one shouted. "If your name is among the lucky selected ones, move out fast!"
A collective groan arose from the prisoners in Block C.
The coal mines were situated away from the prison yard. But a half-hour ride in steam carriages made the distance quite near.
Every morning, wardens herded selected prisoners aboard, shackled them, and transported them northwest to dig coal from the earth. This coal powered all of Marhan, and by extension, the entire nation of Tajara.
Barak's name was called.
He stepped forward while the guard bound his wrists with handcuffs. Before joining the other men who had been called out like him, he glanced back at Irin.
"Take care of yourself and stay out of trouble," he said.
"I will," Irin replied.
Irin waited until the guards were gone and the cells were almost empty. Only then did Irin reach underneath his straw mattress and pull out a loaf of bread.
It wasn't much. He had planned to save it. Perhaps to eat it later with Barak after he gets back.
He wrapped it in cloth and almost hid it back under the mattress.
"Hey," a voice stopped him before he could hide the bread.
Irin turned to see five boys standing outside the door of his cell. They were older than him by a year or two. They were all noticeably thin, with hunger clearly written on their faces.
One sniffed the air.
"I love the smell of bread," he said.
Irin tightened his grip around his bread.
"Where'd you get it?" another asked.
"Does it matter?" Irin replied.
The tallest boy among them smiled, displaying a chipped tooth. "That's a big loaf for someone your size."
"It's mine."
"And it will soon be ours," the tall boy said. They moved closer, spreading out just enough to block the door.
Hunger made people do the unthinkable. Irin had learned that too.
Irin's mind quickly thought of what to do. It was five against one. No guards were present, nor was Barak, his usual helper in such predicaments. There was no way he stood a chance against them.
Irin lowered his gaze to the loaf, and then he looked up.
"You're right," Irin said.
"There's only one loaf," Irin went on. "If I give it up, someone gets more potion than the others. So who among you will be?"
Their evil grin faded as they looked at each other in confusion.
"What?" one said.
"Who gets the biggest share?" Irin asked.
"It must be you?" he pointed at the tallest boy. "You look like you eat a lot."
The tall boy reacted defensively. "I'm not saying-"
"But if he gets more," Irin cut him off, turning to the others, "that means less for you."
"That's not what-"
"And if you split it evenly," Irin continued in a steady voice, "no one's full. So what's the point?"
The group of boys was silent for a moment.
The shortest boy among them scowled. "We can just take it."
"You can," Irin agreed. "But then you'll have to decide who holds it. Who shares it? Who eats first?"
The tall boy stepped forward. "I should. I'm the strongest."
"No, you're the greediest!" another boy yelled.
"I found him first! So I should take it."
"Shut the hell up, you pig. You don't have a say here."
They hurled insults at each other while Irin sat on his mattress eating the loaf of bread.
'Why bother fighting against them when I can entertain myself with them as I eat my bread?'
Suddenly, the tallest boy punched the shortest one so hard that his teeth came out of his mouth.
The skinniest one leaped up and kicked the tallest one in the stomach, making him fall to the ground.
Their plan to extort Irin's loaf of bread turned into a full-blown fight. And of course, a little cinema for Irin.
The fight didn't last long enough for a whistle to sound. Guards stormed into the block with their batons.
"It's a shame the guards ruined my fun before it was over. Watching them fight each other felt... good, I guess?
Irin got to her feet at once and retreated to a corner.
"Enough!" one guard shouted as he smacked his baton across a boy's shoulder. The boys were separated by the guards who had already whipped sense into them.
A guard seized the tallest boy by his hair and pulled him to his feet.
The guard sneered. "You must be eating well for you to have so much energy to fight."
He spun around, looking over everyone.
"You," the guard said, pointing. "And you. And you."
He pointed at Irin, too.
"You're going to the coal mine during the next shift."
They brought out cuffs and cuffed the boys. As someone dragged them away, the tall boy, who was badly bruised, gave Irin a deadly and promising look that, if translated, meant:
"You evil piece of shit. This isn't over."