Descendants of the Kings (Book 2)

Ch 23.2: Dig deep

Cw for mentions of imprisonment and injuries

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Robin let out a low gasp and further stuck his head in, fingers gripping the threshold of the opening, until his narrow shoulders were halfway through. He blinked, his eyes accustomed to the brightness of daylight, trying to see in the dusty, darkened room.

The hut was a damp, musty-smelling thing, barely illuminated by a candleholder that did little to chase away the gloomy shadows. But after a while of squinting, he was finally able to locate those glowing green eyes. They belonged to the figure huddled in the corner.

At first, Robin thought it was a lump of cloth stacked against the wall. Then, as he squinted, the wondered if it was a doll. One of those overstuffed life-sized cloth dolls the noble girls liked to carry around, with their colourful yarn hair and their miniature silky dresses, made to look just like their owners. But then, after the figure twitched, he realised it was no rag doll. No, it was an actual little girl.

The girl lifted her chin just enough for Robin to see those big, green eyes peering at him from behind a curtain of dirty, matted hair.

Robin's mouth parted into an o. Not stopping to consider the repercussions, he grinned wide, showcasing a missing tooth, and waved a hand spasmodically. "Hullo! What are you doing here?"

The girl flinched as if she'd been slapped, balling into herself further and scurrying further against the wall, like a frightened mouse.

Robin clapped a hand against his mouth. "Sorry!" he whisper shouted, wincing. "I can be a bit loud sometimes. I'm Robin! Who are you? And what are you doing in here?"

He stuck out a grubby hand and waggled it in the air, grinning wide. The girl blinked at him, half horrified, half shocked. Robin looked down at his hand and grimaced. Right, it wasn't proper to shake anyone's hand when it was all dirty. Where were his manners?

He hastily wiped the muck on his trousers as best he could, considering the fabric wasn't much cleaner to begin with. This time, he tried to speak in a softer, more reassuring tone.

"Is this your home?" he continued, eyeing the inside of the hut now that his eyes were beginning to adjust. "I live in the big yellow house on the other side of the forest! I think we're neighbours."

Well, neighbours might have been an overstatement. Robin knew it was polite to make small, kind comments about people's homes and clothing. It was what all the grown-ups did at the parties. They mingled in small circles and giggled, quietly making small talk. But when Robin looked around the hut, he struggled to find something positive to say.

It wasn't much of a home. Most of it was sunken underground, the roof of the hut being the only thing visible from the outside. Perched on the window sill, Robin stood a good few metres above the girl. Much like the outside, the room was rather bare. Besides the small flickering candle on the wall, there was only a stack of hay, a tatty blanket balled at the bottom, and what looked like a small cup, as well as a bowl of sorts.

Robin frowned as he took in the girl, who continued to stare at him with those big, terrified eyes. Maybe she was shy? Perhaps Robin had been too forward. He bit the inside of his cheek, reddening in frustration as he tried to find something to say.

"Are these your woods?" he continued meekly, rubbing the side of his nose in embarrassment. "I...like the plants outside your home. They're lovely. Very...green."

The girl stared at him in silence. Robin fidgeted, but before he could open his mouth and continue to waffle, she spoke. It was soft and so quiet, he almost didn't hear her.