Kian lay sprawled on the chilled ground, a makeshift blanket of woven straws barely covering his diminutive frame. His gaze fixated on the rough, scratchy seams of the wooden shed door, the only company in the enveloping darkness. The stillness was broken only by the quiet murmurs of the forest.

No signs of anyone returning from the farm had appeared, and in the dimly lit shelter, several other young souls mirrored Kian's anticipation. Their mothers, toiling away in the fields, were the lifelines they awaited.

Unlike the fortunate infants carried snugly on their mothers' backs, older children like Kian found solace in the humble hut nestled in the heart of the grassy expanse. It was a temporary haven, shrouded by the forest's embrace, where the children lingered, yearning for the return of their hardworking parents.

The mere five years old, Kian possessed a knack for sneaking away from the confines of the shack, drawn to the golden fields where his mother labored. The Forman, though disapproving, turned a blind eye, recognizing the whims of childhood that, if harmless, need not disrupt the rhythm of their laborious lives.

A stir of commotion outside the shed caught Kian's attention, and he discerned that the slaves had returned. With an agile movement, the little one discarded his straw blanket, fixating his gaze eagerly on the entrance. The creaking hinges of the old, decaying door heralded the arrival of dozens of women, their weary steps indicating the toll of a day's labor.

As the women streamed in, their faces etched with exhaustion, Kian's eyes darted from one newcomer to the next. The dimness inside proved challenging for their fatigued eyes, forcing them to scrutinize the shadows closely to identify their loved ones. Each woman found a corner to settle into, and their emotions heightened as they reunited with their children.

Laughter and tears of joy reverberated within the confined space, breaking the silence that had persisted throughout the day-long separation. The emotional release filled the hut with an overwhelming warmth, a testament to the heart-wrenching distance endured by these families.

Yet, amid the reunions and the communal joy, there was a conspicuous absence. Despite the influx of commoners crowding the shed, there was no sign of Sor, Kian’s Mother.

Restless, Kian scrutinized the faces of each woman, mirroring their anxious search for their own kin. Unable to contain his worry any longer, the little boy rose from his spot. He moved from one face to another, inquiring about Sor's whereabouts with a mix of fear and urgency.

The responses varied – some were clueless, while others maintained a meaningful silence. Mino, the young slave who had witnessed the earlier conflict with the foreman, stepped forward to console the distressed boy. "Don't worry Young one! Sor will be here in a little while!" she assured him.

Desperation carved across his face, Kian couldn't help but question, "Why didn't she come with you?" Mino, her touch gentle as she caressed Kian's small, tear-streaked cheeks, offered comfort, "Something came up! But I promise you, she will be here soon!"

Yet, Kian, in his despair, couldn't fully embrace the desultory assurance. Helplessness consumed him as an internal conflict brewed. A nagging sense of guilt crept in, convincing him that Sor's delay was somehow his fault. His youthful mind grappled with the confusion, unable to comprehend the complexities of the situation that lay beyond his tender understanding.

As the night deepened and the door of the shack sealed off the outside world, the female slaves succumbed to the embrace of slumber. Nestled beside their mothers, children drifted into a tranquil sleep, their tiny arms clinging to the familiar contours of maternal figures.

Yet, in the quietude of the night, little Kian defied the call of rest. Despite his weariness, his eyes remained wide open, his small frame huddled against the wall next to the wooden door. His head bowed, resting on his knees, he clung to a state of half-consciousness. It was a long excruciating night, and every second of it lingered.

With every passing moment, fear tightened its grip on him, and he sharpened his ears, attuned to the relentless ticking of time. The night symphony unfolded — crickets sang their nocturnal melody, wolves howled in the distance, jackals and hyenas giggled, and frogs contributed to the cacophony.

Amid the turbulent wind that whistled through the seams of the hut, an anomalous sound disrupted the rhythmic pattern. Unsteady and painful footsteps approached, breaking through the nightly serenade. Kian roused from his contemplative stance, and lifted his head, his ears capturing the approaching cadence with a mixture of anticipation and anxiety.

The footsteps echoed with a distinct limp, a somber percussion on the damp autumn leaves, accompanied by an unsettling and almost deadly hiss. Responding to the sound, Kian shifted his dozed glance upward, catching sight of Sor for a split second. She wrestled with the door, a flickering oil lamp casting an ethereal glow around her as she entered with deliberate quietness.

The intense light of the lamp, an intrusion to the accustomed darkness within the hut, nearly blinded Kian. Yet, the voice that ushered along the glow was unmistakably familiar — It was Sor, speaking to someone outside, her words laced with exhaustion and strain.

"You don't have to follow me any longer! I can go in by myself! OK! Don’t fret! I can take care of myself, I’m tough!... And thanks again for the extra bread! Here! Take the lamp with you!" Sor's voice, fragmented and laden with moans, resonated in the night air.

The door closed with a vibrant thud, the hinge sighing in submission. Unperturbed by the harsh sound, Sor, beneath the gradually receding light of the lamp, discovered the crumpled form of the little boy beside the door. The dim glow revealed the weariness chiseled on his face; a silent acknowledgment of the trials endured during Sor's prolonged absence.

"Why haven’t you slept yet? Why are you sitting here on your own? You’ll catch a cold like this, son!" Sor rushed into the arms of little Kian, enfolding his thin, small frame in a thorough embrace. Tears streamed down Kian's cheeks uncontrollably as he nestled his head against his mother's chest, a cascade of questions pouring out between sobs. "Why are you so late? Where were you? Why didn't you come back with the others? Why ..."

"Take your voice down you two!! Be quiet already! We’re trying to sleep!" admonished a woman hidden beneath a pile of straw, shivering from the cold in an attempt to keep warm. Another, cradling her tiny infant next to the wall, pleaded, "Don't make any more noise for God’s sake! You’ll wake the kids!”

"Hush!" Sor pressed her index finger against little Kian's lips, then swiftly lifted him off the ground, carrying him to the far end of their small cottage.

At the shack's base lay a repository of worn-out clothing and chipped utensils, collectively owned by the slave women. On one hand, the items were so battered, worn, and unrecognizable that they had long ceased to be useful. On the other hand, poor souls couldn’t afford to get rid of even the most impractical junk, hence the hideous chaos!

Sor and little Kian however had another agenda in mind. Both mother and son settled on the ground at the end of their shelter. After clearing away a heap of tattered rags, the determined woman ran her fingers along the darkened back wall until she located a partially rotted log. Then single-handedly, she elevated the wood's edge, attached only by frayed linen ropes meant to secure the planks. Signaling to her child with a hushed voice, she whispered, "Come on! You first!"

Without a moment's hesitation, Kian scuttled out from beneath the wooden board on all fours. Sor, exerting more pressure, lifted the board's end, wedging her head beneath it and pulling herself out with considerable struggle. The exit proved effortless for the tiny Kian, but Sor, despite her slender and bony figure, maneuvered through the gap between the wooden planks, reaching the outside with noticeable difficulty. "Oh! Finally! I think I'm getting fat!" Sor remarked, a playful jest amid their clandestine escape.

The moonlight cast an ethereal glow on the verge of the towering trees as Sor and Kian ventured into the night. The subtle rustle of leaves beneath their feet mingled with the nocturnal symphony of crickets, creating a soothing backdrop to the unfolding scene.

Kian, still absorbing the newfound freedom, couldn't help but grin at his mother's jest, momentarily forgetting the scuffles that lay behind them.

Despite the playfulness, the moonlit landscape revealed the toll of Sor's recent encounter. A tear on her lip, a few minor bruises around her face, and the tattered collar of her dress bore witness to the challenges she had faced. Sor, despite slight limp and visible signs of pain, pressed on with determined steps, her silhouette etched against the silvered backdrop of the night. As they undertook further from their shelter, the forest embraced them with its quiet grandeur.