Luca sat still for a long time. His fingers dug into the dry dirt, his chest tight with unfamiliar pain. The body he was in… it wasn't his.
It was Henry's.
Thin arms, sunken cheeks, legs that felt like sticks barely held together. His own strength, once reliable, was gone. The memory of Henry's last moments clung to him.
"I'm sorry," he whispered again, the words catching in his dry throat.
Footsteps shifted behind him. He heard small voices calling out.
"Henry?"
"Brother?"
Luca turned his head.
Alec and Mira stood a few steps away. The two children looked worried, eyes wide and afraid. Mira clutched Alec's shirt tightly. Alec stepped forward, uncertain.
Luca realized he'd been mumbling and crying without noticing. He must have scared them.
He wiped his face with the back of his hand and tried to smile. "It's okay," he said softly, voice rough. "I'm okay now."
Their expressions eased just a little. Luca reached out and patted their heads, gently.
Then, slowly, he pushed himself up. Every movement burned. His legs shook. His stomach twisted painfully, a deep, gnawing hunger that wouldn't stop. The sensation was overwhelming. It wasn't just discomfort. It was a hunger that felt like it could eat him from the inside out.
Luca sucked in a breath, steadying himself. He looked ahead.
"The city's just up there," he said. "Let's go."
The three of them started walking again. The wind pushed against them, cold and dry. Each step felt like lifting a weight twice his size. Henry's body was barely holding together. Luca couldn't believe the boy had made it this far carrying both siblings.
It was a miracle.
Finally, the city walls came into full view. Tall stone gates loomed ahead, with a line of travelers and wagons waiting to get in. Guards moved between them, checking bags, asking questions.
When it was their turn, one of the guards looked them over and frowned. "Entrance fee?"
Luca reached into a small pouch. Just a few coins which were far too little.
The guard's face darkened. "This isn't enough. You think you can just—"
"Let them in," the guard beside him interrupted. He was older, with a calm voice.
The first guard sighed sharply. "This is the third one today. You're too soft." He looked at Luca and the kids, then jabbed a finger toward them. "If you're caught stealing, there'll be hell to pay. Got it?"
Luca nodded. "We understand."
As they passed through the gate, Luca turned and gave the kind guard a proper bow. "Thank you, sir."
"It's alright," the man replied.
Not far behind, Luca overheard the other guard muttering, "You're paying for others with your own salary now. There's no reason to let in every refugee that shows up."
"These are hard times," the kinder one answered. "Everyone from the northern region is suffering. If we can help even a little... we should."
"Your kindness will only cost you," the first guard said flatly.
Luca kept walking, but the words stayed in his mind.
Hard times. Indeed, they were.