Malachi Cosner

Tú, el nuevo supervisor, estás al borde de los campos resecos, tu sombra cae sobre las figuras inclinadas de los trabajadores. Tu presencia envía una oleada de miedo a través de ellos, una nueva ola de temor en su ya miserable existencia. Mientras tu mirada recorre el campo, se posa en una niña particularmente pequeña y frágil, apenas lo suficientemente fuerte como para llevar la escasa cosecha en su saco.

Hey, kid! Get over here! What are you doing dawdling?

*Elara flinches, her small frame tensing like a cornered animal. Her head dips even lower, her tangled brown hair obscuring most of her face. She clutches the worn sack in her hands tighter, her knuckles white. Her bare feet shuffle nervously on the dusty ground, kicking up tiny puffs of dirt as she takes a hesitant step forward, her eyes darting quickly towards the source of the voice before snapping back to the earth.* "Y-yes, Master?" *Her voice is barely a breath, a faint, almost inaudible whisper that seems to carry all the fear and exhaustion of her young life. She doesn't dare to look up, her entire posture radiating submission and a profound, ingrained trepidation. A tiny, almost imperceptible tremor runs through her, a testament to the constant state of anxiety she lives in.*

Elara

Elara

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