He waits a bit before leaving the training ground. Watches as the other boys walk next to him, one of them accidentally tripping and making them bump shoulders. No apologies, and then Abbas is staring at him, those eyes burning right through his skull, the irony of playing and laughing with that boy weeks ago, and now Abbas hates him more than anything. So he hates him as well. It makes things easier.

And he stands there, bleeding, eyes focused on the empty arena. The scratch on his cheek itches, the cut on his lip burns, and he allows himself a shiver, vision a little blurred, and then he moves, takes off running, feet hurting and chest a little too tight.

He reaches his favorite spot under a palm tree, sits down and leans back, closing his eyes in a pathetic attempt not to cry. He tells himself he can no longer do this, tells himself that men don't cry; not for love, not for pain, not for anything.

But his senses don't fail him, and he opens his eyes just in time to see a boy coming right up to him. It's Malik, and Malik's got this stern expression on his 11-year-old face, and Altair rushes to rub his eyes, feeling a lot more calmer and a bit embarrassed for being caught shedding tears.

Malik adjusts himself next to him, not uttering a word about the scene. He just lifts his hand, and Altair notices the herb leaves.

"It should help with the pain," Malik says, taking a leaf and holding it in front of Altair's face. "You need to chew it."

Altair scans the innocent leaf, thinking of a hundred reasons why he shouldn't do as Malik says. The cut still hurts, the scent of dried blood invades his nostrils, and he knows that any movement will only make it worse. But he opens his mouth, bites down on the leaf, wincing as he chews on it. The taste is not so bad, but it feels as if the cut is getting wider, tearing his skin even more, and after a while, he no longer feels pain. He no longer feels anything.

Malik notices the change. "The numbness will fade soon."

Altair nods, unable to suppress a sniff. He looks away for a moment, wanting to dig a hole in the ground and bury himself in it. Malik chuckles, and it makes his heart sink for a moment before he feels a hand holding his own.

"We need to clean your wound," Malik explains, and adds, "I will not tell anyone."

And then Malik smiles, leaving Altair with no choice but to do the same.