The world was dark and small and it smelled like bear.
Ruì Xuě kept his eyes closed. Not because he was sleeping. He hadn't slept since they'd thrown him in here. Every time he started to drift, the crate would lurch, or a bear would grunt, or something would skitter across his leg, and he would jerk awake with his heart in his throat.
He kept his eyes closed because he didn't want to see the bars anymore.
The iron bars. The locked door. The thick shadows of the jungle moving past in blurry streaks.
Every time he opened his eyes, he was still here.
Still trapped.
Still alone.
Papa will come, he told himself. For the hundredth time. The thousandth. Papa always comes. Mama always comes. They found Zhēn when she was lost. They found Tao Zi. They found me in the snow that one time when I wandered too far and got lost in the blizzard and Papa carried me home on his back and didn't even yell.
He pressed his face against his knees.
