As we all shuffle outside and head toward food, everyone is quiet. The morning is crisp. The air awakens me entirely, making my body feel more like unsettled energy rather than a man who didn't sleep long enough. I stretch out my cramped joints and lumber to the large pots.
When I approach, one of the giant guards turns around. My hair stands on end when his eyes go straight to my face. I'd only caught glimpses of him in the corner of my eye, but I'm sure he’s the one who held me down and whipped me. He gives me a sneering triumphant look as overcooked grains are spooned onto my plate.
Once finished eating, I follow the same process of washing my dish myself before exiting. When I begin the dreary trek upto the trees, Abet and Nicolás find my side. I look over with a pleasant expression as I say good morning, but only Nicolás smiles back.
When I reach the lumber yard with my cutting team, I see Eneko.
A hot, ground-rending anger spikes at the sight of his face.
He stands tall and grim, with at least a dozen giant guards, including my tormenter from last night. Behind him is a cart pulled by oxen.
A head of deep, raven-black hair is visible above the walls of the cart.
Melisa.
My heart races, waiting for her to pivot and see me. Eneko turns to a warrior, retrieving something from a guard while the slaves fall into formation.
A few whispers sound next to me. Most of their words mimic the rustling of trees, almost impossible to perceive, but I make out ‘woman.’
I clench my jaw. Her voice… it’d been in my mind.
Had I imagined it?
"We have news from the king," Eneko calls out, one hand on his hip, the other clutching a piece of paper. "I warned you all that your lackluster performances yesterday would have consequences. Today, every group is expected to cut down three trees, or your group will be subject to the racks."
The crowd around us is silent. The rack means death.
Clearly shocked, Melisa finally moves. She twists around in the cart, brown eyes wide and red mouth parted as she looks at Eneko.
In the silence, someone says something too low to hear.
Eneko’s eyes snap over to the direction of the noise.
“What was that?” he demands.
Everything is quiet for a moment.
Then, a man yells from the back of the group.
"Kill us for serving you? Soon, you won't have any slaves left, Foreman. What does his Royal Highness think about chopping his own wood and cleaning his own shit?"
Eneko sneers. He lifts his chin, still frowning, and waves his hand lazily toward the slave.
Two guards rush forward. One grabs the man by the arm just as he starts to run. The guard yanks backward mercilessly, and a loud pop fills the air as the man is slammed into the ground. The human roars as he's dragged by the back of his shirt to the front of the group.
Melisa’s hand covers her mouth with fear written all over her face.
The slave tries to stand, but he is kicked back to his knees by the second guard, who holds a short whip—the man who tore my back apart. The human cries out from the force of his second fall, knocking into the rocky, snowy ground. The rest of us watch as it happens, feeling the echoes of the screams through the air and holding our breath as the whip lifts.
The guard’s lips turn up at the sides when his hand cranks back before beating now-bare flesh. The man lets out an agonized growl through his teeth as his body curls forward under the shock of the pain.
Another lash comes down with bone-cracking speed. And then another.
The hunger on the guard's face is ravenous. As if the blood were a thing to be celebrated. I wonder if he looked the same when destroying the skin on my back.
My eyes travel to those around me. I look at the men. Some watch with a sense of indifference and tight lips. Others watch with the rage of men plotting revenge.
The giants treat these men as disposable sods. Through them, they feel their power. They can manipulate their liveswith the breeding pens, control them in their homes and daytime hours, and finally, end their lives. The giants have made themselves the gods of the humans.