He worked in spite of his broken body because he knew he wouldn’t survive another beating. One eye was still swollen halfway shut. Pain seared through his bruised ribs with each heave of the shovel. Mal-Chin worked beside him, dropping one scoop of coal in Simon’s barrel for every two he hoisted into his own. “Thank you,” Simon whispered.
“For what?” Mal-Chin shrugged, and Simon didn’t say anything else for the rest of his shift.
That evening, Mal-Chin laid a strong hand on Simon’s shoulder as the men returned to their dorm. “You did well today.”
Simon glanced behind to see how far they were from the overseer and other prying ears. “You didn’t have to help me.”
Mal-Chin shrugged once more. “Did if I didn’t want them to cut back on rations again.”
“It was good of you.” Simon swallowed
