The sun rises over the jagged mountain peaks like a great lion clambering up onto its pride rock to show that it is the king of the savannah. Its hot breath warms the boy's naked back, criss-crossed with layers of scars, as he sits on the cliff above the village. His mountain tribe is a group of warriors, and this is where they sleep. As the frost on the lichen-covered rocks begins to melt, he knows that he needs to go home so that no one will know he was up there.
    The boy creeps down the rocks with the agility of a young ibex. He has little fear; he's traversed this route a hundred times. What he's scared of awaits him at the bottom - hopefully still asleep.
    He pushes open the wooden door and enters the little cottage occupied by six. Snores greet him - but not nearly enough sounds of unconsciousness are there. Before he can move, he's grabbed by both arms and dragged outside.
    "Were you sneaking out again, Sparky?" his sister growls. They are the same height, despite Spark's much younger age, and she weighs three times as much. The boy doesn't reply until his eldest brother shakes him from the other side. "Up on that cliff, weren't you? If you like it so much up there maybe we should go with you!"
    "N-n-n-n-no-n-no..." Spark stutters, struggling.
    "You're such a twig," the sister growls, poking his painfully obvious ribs.
    This is their fault, for taking most of his food and not letting him eat anything but their scraps.
    "Come on," the brother says, stepping forward, "let's take him where he wants to be."
    With a cruel laugh, his sister pulls him along, and together they drag him up the cliff.
    Spark's thin legs scrape and bump against the rocks as they heave him up the cliff face. He tries to scramble up, but they pull at him and use him for balance and leverage, and by the top he is battered and beaten. He collapses at their feet when they let go, breathing hard from the exertion of trying to stay on his feet.
    "Not a bad view you have up here, Sparky," the sister says, looking out across the village and beyond that, the river valley. "Maybe I'll have to start coming up. Come on, come look at the view."
    She kicks him to make him roll over to look over the edge.
    Spark looks sadly. He knows that this will be the last time he will be up here, for any reason.
    After a moment, the brother speaks. "I think we've been up here long enough."
    "I agree." The sister smirks down at Spark. "Mom will be worried. Let's make sure he gets down to her nice and fast."
    As his brother laughs, she used her boot to push Spark. It leaves mud smears on his scarred skin. He is shoved sideways - and off the cliff.

    When Spark wakes up, he finds himself in the hut of the village medicine woman. It's dark, but when his eyes adjust he sees a dark figure in one corner. He flinches back, sure they intend to hurt him.
    The stooped medicine woman comes forward despite his terror. She puts her wrinkled hand under Spark's chin and lifts his face. There is kindness in her sparkling green eyes.
    "There, now," she murmurs, gently letting go of his chin. Spark tucks it into his chest, having thought that she would start to choke him. "You're safe."
    He doesn't believe it, but he begins to relax with the soft words.
    "I know what your family does to you," the old woman says. "And I want to tell you that if you ever need a safe place... you can come here. Do you understand?"
    Spark nods rapidly, if only to make her stop talking to him.
    "Good." She hands him a steaming mug. "Drink this. It will put you to sleep."
    In his small hands, Spark takes the drink and sips it. The tea is bittersweet.
    A pleased smile spreads across the aged face. "Good. Have a good sleep, little flame."
    Spark feels his eyelids droop, and as he falls asleep he sees the woman leaning in. The mug is taken from his hands and a kiss is brushed against his forehead before he loses all sense of consciousness and drifts away into the relieving monotony of darkness.