“Easy now,” Harruq said, kneeling beside him. He saw the vicious bruises, and carefully he lifted Qurrah’s shirt. His whole chest was a black and blue disaster. Harruq lifted him back into his arms and hugged him as the coughs slowly lessened.

“Are you crying, brother?” Qurrah asked.

“Course not,” Harruq lied.

They settled down for the night without anything to eat for supper. The night was pleasant, but they still lay close together for warmth because of their lack of blankets. The sun set, and one by one the stars twinkled into view. Harruq counted them until the number grew too high.

Qurrah was quieter than usual, having said little for the past hour. He broke the silence by pointing to the sky and whispering.

“I’ve heard people wish upon the stars for luck,” he said. “Have you ever done that, Harruq?”

“Not really. Wishing won’t make things change.”

Qurrah nodded.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” he said.

“I know.”

“That rat was dead when I found it. I just brought it back.”

“I know.”

The silence returned. The last remnants of daylight faded, and above them twinkled the beautiful blanket of stars.

“What would you wish for?” Qurrah asked.

Harruq chuckled.

“You mean besides a good meal, maybe some blankets and a roof?”

Qurrah rolled over and put his back to him.

“Forget it,” he mumbled.

Harruq shifted uncomfortably. He crossed his arms, then uncrossed them and put them behind his head.

“I’d wish to be a great fighter,” he said. “The greatest that ever lived. No one would pick on us, not ever again. Make a bunch of coin, maybe buy a great big house. I’m strong enough. I could do it. Maybe then I could protect you…”

He stopped. He’d said more than he meant to, and laying there poor and bruised, it seemed a pathetic, desperate wish. For a while Qurrah did not respond, but at last he rolled over and looked to the stars.