"Wake up," Rancid whispers as he shakes his younger brother's shoulders. He's crouched down on one knee, hunched over Palik's makeshift bed of torn comforters.
The small quilt only covers up the lower half of his torso and hips, leaving the rest of his skinny body vulnerable to the cold air. It was fine when it was the summer season, but now that autumn is approaching, it's starting to feel nippy.
He makes a mental note to buy a larger blanket before it gets too cold out. The last one was cut up to be used for stitching up clothes that had rips in them, and stuffing holes that the rats have made in the walls.
Not that it helped much, the too big rodents chewed it up faster than Rancid can replace them.
A rustle comes from behind him and he stiffens, his movements halting. When a shrill voice doesn't break the quiet, he glances behind him and sighs in relief when their mother doesn't wake up. It would've been terrible if she did.
After years of suffering her abuse, he figured out it was better that they weren't home whenever she woke up. Rancid has less bruises, and Palik doesn't have to shout loud enough to wake their old and cranky neighbor. In the end, it works better this way.
He turns back to Palik and shakes him again. The boy shifts and blinks up at him, his dirty brown hair a mess on his head. He raises a hand to rub his right eye.
"Just a little more?" His voice is so low that Rancid almost doesn't hear him.
The older brother purses his lips and shakes his head. "Sorry, not today." He thumps Palik on the back and pushes to a stand.
His brother is silent as he drags himself up. He pulls on the worn out shoes by the flimsy metal door of the one room shack they live in. It's big enough for the three of them to cramp inside together, but small enough that the limited space drives them all mad.
No one has any privacy.
Palik steps back and Rancid takes up his spot. He grabs the cool metal handle, and with a firm lift, he carefully eases the door open. They both cringe when a high pitched squeak sounds.
They freeze, and Rancid looks over his shoulder to see the sleeping silhouette of their mother. When she doesn't wake up, Rancid lets out a small breath of relief and goes back to opening the door as quietly as he can.
Palik slips out first and waits for him on the dirt road. Rancid closes the flimsy metal piece, making sure it doesn't creak. "Do we have any more oil?"
He frowns down at the wobbly hinges that have come loose. He opens up the brown knapsack that hangs from over his shoulder and pulls out a small screwdriver. He bends down and tightens the hinge, all the while Palik blinks, half dazed with sleep.
"No." His brother answers, his voice hoarse. Rancid pockets the tool and the two of them walk down the barely lit pathway. Most of the lampposts are broken with age, or have gone out with no one to change them.
It's the district's job, but those in power are more concerned with the northern part of the city. Both sides of the road are lined with flimsy metal sheds, trash, and the occasional rusted out vehicle unlucky enough to break down. The sun is now starting to rise, its warmth balancing out the chill in the air.
Rancid squints as two figures turn onto the dirt road further ahead, and he lifts his hand to block out the light, "Is that Farron and Folly?" He recognizes their familiar gait, and when an awkward sound escapes from his brother, he turns to look at him.
Palik straightens his posture at the familiar names, and any sign of him being tired vanishes. Rancid chuckles when the younger boy, no older than thirteen, fusses with his knotty brown hair, shaking it out and then smoothing it down.
The two figures grow closer, and their shapes gain more detail.
"Yo." Farron nods at Rancid, his dark hair shaggy and unkempt. Traces of dirt stain his tanned skin, a contrast to his surprisingly white teeth. He's the same age as Rancid at nineteen, and only a head shorter.
They slap hands in greeting and Farron does the same to Palik. Beside him, his sister, Folly waves, her pigtailed hair frizzy and dirty.
"Let's get some sweet cakes for breakfast." Farron says, jabbing his thumb back from the direction he came from, "I saw Vic making some at his stall."
"Sweet cakes?" Folly gasps before anyone else can reply, shifting her brown eyes to her brother.
Unlike Rancid and Palik, both who look polar opposites with the older having blonde hair and blue-green eyes while the younger having a darker tone, Folly looks a lot like her older brother. And if it weren't for her younger age, Rancid swears they could've been twins. "I didn't see any!"
"I know." Farron smirks and reaches to pat the top of her head, "If you had, you'd still be there and I'd have met them by myself." He snorts.
The four of them walk down the dirt path towards the market circle that's dedicated to the east side of the city.
After waiting in the queue of Vic's stall, Farron and Rancid walk back to their siblings who talk near a wall that separates the plaza from the road. Rancid gives Palik a stick of sweet cake and meat.
Before he can walk away to enjoy the rest of his early morning, Folly elbows Palik in the ribs, and nods her head at him in encouragement. "Say it." She hisses.
Rancid pauses with raised eyebrows when Palik rubs the back of his neck and avoids his gaze. "What is it?" He asks.
Folly nudges Palik forward and the unusually timid boy flushes red. "Since you already bought food, can I have a silver coin?"