"The market's a good place to start—people keep to themselves there."

Sounds and sights and smells assaulted Tintin on all sides. Fruits mingled with sweat and animals wafted in the air, along with a briny scent that may or may not have come from Haddock. Everything from dull, earthy colors and bright yellows and reds stood side by side, each demanding attention. The crowd jostled Tintin back and forth. At a certain point, someone slammed into Tintin and knocked him to the ground.

Tintin gasped.

The slave trader, holding the leashes of children in one hand and a whip in another. His eyes glinted like daggers in the sunlight.

Tintin froze, breaths coming in shallow and fast. No. Oh, no, please—

"You!"

The slave trader grabbed his arm and dragged him to his feet. No matter how much Tintin screamed and thrashed the trader kept a strong hold on him, almost twisting his shoulder. "You insolent fool! Trying to escape now, are you?"

The whip cracked on his back. Tintin yelped and bit his lip, tears welling up in his eyes.

"Well, I'll break you so hard you won't be able to do that anymore!"

Throwing him to the ground, the trader whipped him again and again. White hot pain exploded in his spine as he struggled to get back on his feet. Before he could get up the cruel whip stunned his and sent him groveling in the dust.

"That will teach you not to run from me again!"

Haddock's voice rang above the ringing in his ear. "Let him go!"

Groans and curses filled the air and still the whip ripped his back to shreds.

Is this how Tchang felt? This much pain… everyday…

Someone grabbed him and forced him to his feet, running off with him. His back throbbed along with his heartbeat, his feet dragging on the ground, trembling. Darkness swirled around him, his vision dimming.

Despite that the pillar came into terrible clarity as he passed it by.

"You've no right to take the boy!"

"Give it up, kid." The whip cracked on Tchang's back, sending him reeling. Growling, the trader faced Tintin. "What do you want, anyway? You want to join him?"

Heat rushed through Tintin and his body trembled with fury. "You will let him go."

"No."

"Then you've sealed your fate."

The ground roared and quaked as Tintin slammed his fist down on it. Jagged rock pierced through, injuring the trader and freeing the slaves. With a flick of his wrist the pillar tore through the trader's slavery ring, the walls crumbling and the ceiling bursting.

Only the broken remains of the building remained.

In the midst of the smoke a boy stood, staring straight at him.

Such bright blue eyes…

Singing. Awful singing.

Tintin groaned. "What is that?"

"You said it."

"Ha—Haddock!"

Haddock placed a finger over his mouth and kept Tintin down. Tintin was lying on his chest. This wasn't how he usually laid down… maybe he should— "Ahh!" Needles stabbed into his back and he fell back on the bed, face digging into the soft pillows.

"Take it easy, your wounds are still fresh. I'm placing some sort of ointment Madame Castafiore gave me." His voice betrayed what he thought about Castafiore. "You were out for such a long time. Seemed hours. Especially with all that blasted singing."

"Did—did he see you?"

Haddock blinked. "You'll bet. Don't worry, I'm not scared of him. He's all thunder but no storm. I should know."

Tintin winced, fists curling around the sheets.

Applause echoed outside and someone entered the room, perfume filling the air. "How is the poorrr child?" The trills rang in Tintin's ears long after that. "Arre you feeling bet-ter?"

"He's fine, Madam."

Forcing a smile, Tintin nodded towards the kneeling Castafiore. "Doesn't hurt at all." He dug his nails into the mattress, hiding them under the pillow.

"Good, good. I told you that ointment would work." Castafiore slapped Haddock's back and laughed asshe went off. "I shall see you both later, but I have to take care of my fa~ns."

Tintin propped himself on his elbows, craning his neck at Haddock, who pulled out bandages from under the bed.

"Can you sit up?"

With Haddock's help, Tintin heaved himself up and sagged into Haddock. "Hurts…"

"I know, I know the feeling, but we've got to get your back bandaged. Lean on your knees or—or something."

As Haddock bound his back, Tintin bit his lip and breathed in and out. One, two. One, two. One—

"Aack!"

"Sh!" A hand clamped on Tintin's mouth. "If they find us here…"

Tintin's stomach flipped and his skin broke out into cold, clammy sweat. Pain ebbed and flowed, each pull of bandages stabbing into his back up into his head. Although his eyes were shut his vision still swam.

A last pull and a hand patted his own. "It's all right now. It's all over. Now rest."

Haddock moved slowly in Tintin's hazy eyes, then darkness claimed him once more.

The next morning Tintin sat on a folding chair outside, the warm sun bringing his aching muscles slight relief. Tchang used to say that the rays were best this early in the morning—good for the body. If only it could instantly heal wounds…

Bark

A small, mangy dog with light brown fur stared up at him, barking. Each yip sent needles of shock to his head.

Bark bark bark

"Hello there." Look at that—such cute black eyes—

BARK

Tintin covered his ears in a jerk, his back groaning in complaint. "No—stop barking—"

BARK! BARK! BARK!

What does it want? As he placed a hand on the table to support himself, his untouched plate shuddered from the force. Tintin stared at it—brown rice and a morsel of meat—and back at the dog. "You want this?"

The dog whimpered and nodded.

"All right, I'll give you food, but don't be noisy." Tintin formed a small bowl out of the ground and poured the contents of his meal into it. As the dog ate, Tintin petted its head, scratching it behind the ears. "I'll guess you'd want water too."

The dog yipped.

Tintin brought water up from the ground, let it fill another earthen bowl and closed up the spring once it was full. Retreating back to his chair, he basked a bit more in the sun, shutting his eyes against its rays.

A weight on his lap jolted him back. The dog had leapt up on him, nose touching his own. Tintin stroked its fur and smiled.

"Made a new friend?" Haddock gazed down at the puppy and bent over. "Hello, little guy."

Growling, the dog barked and snapped at Haddock's nose.

"Cheeky little mutt. What are you naming him?"

Tintin pressed a kiss to the dog's head. "I'm naming him Milou, after the port where we met."

"Milou."

"Augh!" When Tintin rubbed Milou's head, the scent of dust and dirt and mud filled his nostrils. "You need a bath, Milou." Releasing another spring, Tintin bathed Milou, who tried to scramble out of his hands at every opportunity. With a fit of ear-piercing barks Milou broke free.

A shower of murky water bathed both Tintin and Haddock's faces.

"Blistering—"

"Oh, look, Haddock. Milou's coat is white."

"Look at that." Haddock clicked his tongue, wiping his face off with his shirt. "Cheeky little thing, nonetheless. He'll get you in trouble, I'll say." With a laugh, he left, saying he was visiting Cuthbert and that he would be back by night fall.

"All right, take care!"