A Devious Exchange

Sticks and Stones may Break my Bones

"A rock?" I parroted aloud, watching as shaky hands fumble to toss a beige cut of rock. The Commander swiftly caught it in the center of his palm, not sparing a glance away from the pit. A fringe of his long hair dusted across his forehead, a shininess bouncing off his skin and hair from the candle's light. He rolled the rock around in his hand in thought, dirtying the pristine whiteness of his gloves with dirty brown smudges. He waited several seconds, listening intently. The bleary lantern's light mixed with the daunting creepiness of the cave made my insides turn cold and hollow, a breath waiting to be released in my chest as he just... stood there.

"Nobody speaks a word." He murmured, crouching down onto his haunches overlooking the shadowed pit.

The rock perched just on the tip of his forefinger and thumb, and with a light toss, it left to be enveloped into the darkness. For a prolonging few seconds, nothing happened. It kept falling, and falling, and falling, with nothing but a faint whistle to tell us it was there. Until at long last, a loud 'thunk' echoed its way up.

Atticus furrowed his brows, thinning his lips in distaste.

It was an even steeper drop then what I expected, which would be challenging considering our dwindling supply of rope. I glanced at the glorified 'rope holder,' Miook making quick work of unraveling the coiled rope looped around his shoulders, crouching near a boulder to secure it. Atticus' shoulders were tense, his fingers not stopping their insistent tapping against his leg. I felt awkward just standing there looking down on him, as is the rest of the group, but the feeling of trepidation was far too big to ignore either.

I swallowed the growing lump in my throat, fixing the hair in my face absentmindedly. I felt itchy from all the dust over me and my increasing, anxious fidgeting.

"Armstrong, investigate." Atticus commanded firmly, making me jump at the sudden loudness.

The soldier in question practically shook like a leaf at the sharp order, pausing briefly to look down in the pit himself. The poor thing looked about ready to pee himself. Atticus, however, had no sympathies for sorrows. He finally turned his head away, snapping up at him over his shoulder, "Did I stutter? Get a move along."

Miook silently tossed the rope between them, a section of its beige twists quickly disappearing below. His eyes met Armstrong's for just a second, a bitter remorse only visible in his tight frown. I bit my lip in anticipation, breath rising and falling fast as the young lad sunk to the ground in submission.

I felt horrid and guilty as he gripped the rope tight once more, my lips thinning and foot tapping in worry. Before he officially dropped himself in, his eyes wavered to look up at us. And did it make me feel terrible. They were glossed over, a damning wall of tears threatening to overturn behind those brown eyes. His stalky brown bangs were caked in dust and mud, but even I could see the true, scared child hidden beneath. Even if the pit held nothing dangerous, the sake of his young life having the possibility of being robbed dug a hole deep in my heart. 

Without another word, I stepped forward to lightly hook my hand under his arm, preventing him from dropping down. He looked back up at me in shock, but my eyes were on Atticus. Something otherworldly guided my words to take flight, even with a fiery glare at my front door.

"There's got to be another way." I stated firmly, the pounding pulse right beneath my fingertips urging me to continue, "This is not safe, we have no idea what's down there. I cannot will myself to stand here and allow him to go down alone."

The Commander tsked his tongue, looking between me and the boy. He finally stood up with a loud popping of his knee, stepping forward till we were chest to chest. His looming figure almost made me lose my footing if it weren't for the lad's shoulder.