The girl had a lovely name: Adele. While her mother was pregnant, she had given directions to a passing mage, who named the child in her womb. From then on, Adele's mother treasured that name.
"That's amazing. My father named me."
The two children chatted as they played beside the slag heap—or rather, as they worked.
By the time their families came looking for them, dusk had fallen.
"Goodbye!"
Adele waved, then hefted a heavy flower basket full of sifted coal scraps onto her back. Its weight pulled her slight body sideways as she walked toward a woman whose long dress had been washed thin and pale.
Wilson returned to his well-dressed, worried parents, but he could not help looking back at Adele.
The setting sun stretched long shadows through the alley, dividing the two of them.
Filthy from head to toe, Wilson followed his parents to their new home. The closer he came to that unfamiliar house, the heavier his steps grew.
"Go take a bath first!" his mother complained loudly. "Look how dirty you are! If the neighbors see you, they'll think we're paupers!"
The cheerful confidence Wilson had shown Adele vanished, while his mother went on talking.
"That's enough. Do you want our son to stay inside all day like he did in Manka Town?"
"But he can't get so filthy..." His mother's voice dropped. "The other ladies will laugh at us..."
His father, who always presented a mild face to the world, said, "Then tell him not to get himself so dirty."
"But that girl..."
"He's only just moved here. What are you worried about? Or would you rather our son run around the streets all day with the other boys, waving wooden swords and pretending to be knights?"
"No, that won't do. Too dangerous, far