The Orbs of Tala

04 | This Human Is Interesting

Don Honesto Gaston was seventy-nine. Very much alive, and unfortunately very slow. He took his time sitting down, then took some more to stare at Lucas.

Breaking the awkward silence, Lucas asked, "When will you get to the part where you tell me why I'm here?"

"Why? Are you in a hurry to leave?"

He fixed the man a wry look. "I've been here two days. Sure, I want to know why I have to stay longer."

Honesto shook his head. "You rarely stay home."

"Gramps, I'm busy—"

"I know," the man interjected. He shifted in his seat and let out a painful groan. "Your father's away on business. I can't run the hacienda on my own."

Lucas frowned. "You mean I should do it?"

"It's about time."

He groaned. "And where did papa go?"

"I said," the man said, eyes turning stern. "Business."

Lucas rolled his eyes. "When is he coming back?"

"Once he's done with business."

Before he could say something to get him in trouble, a knock came to his grandfather's study door.

"Come in," Honesto Gaston called.

A servant walked in, followed by their breathless farmhand. "There's been a fire in the fields."

Lucas sighed, stealing his grandfather a look.

"Go deal with it," came the order.

He reluctantly stood.

"We're glad you're back, Sir," the farmhand said as they came down the stairs.

"I'm not sure I am," he grumbled under his breath.

On the way to the field, he asked why the burning happened. "We no longer burn the fields."

"We didn't, Sir," said the farmhand. "Someone did."

"Who?"

The farmland refused to tell him anything more, only that he should see it for himself. When they arrived, he saw a crowd in the middle of the burnt field.

"She's not human, is she?" Lucas heard one lady ask as he approached with the farmhand. The workers saw him and before he could ask, one of them said, "Sir Lucas!"

Over a dozen of them stepped aside to reveal a confused teen. His brows fused when his eyes landed on the unburned perfect circle, the girl right in the middle. The brown maya bird picking on the dried leaves was the only fearless creature around.

The smell of burnt cane trash traveled up his nostrils. What happened here?

"We found her unconscious in that circle," one farmer explained as Lucas approached.

"She's not from here, that's for certain," a woman said before Lucas could voice the question, tone laced with scorn.

Lucas slowly approached the girl. She looked around thirteen or fifteen, he could not be sure. Too young, he thought. "Are you all right?"

"She's not hurt. We asked," said someone behind him.

"Let the girl answer," he ordered. Then gently, he asked again, "Are you hurt?"

She blinked, brown eyes looking confused. Her long black hair tousled, dried sugarcane leaves sticking out in some places; her white dress smeared with dirt like her face. "No," was her croaky reply. She swallowed.