8 years ago.

"Ezra, wake up."

His mother gave his arm a quick, hard jiggle. He yawned, rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and sat up. She would be far less gentle about it if he went back to sleep and she had to wake him again. The small, warm body beside him was already stirring. "Come on, Toby," he whispered. "Time to get up..."

It was still dark outside. It was always dark this far north, perched among the mountains, with the howling wind and murky daylight.

His mother was getting dressed, doing up her thick grey shift while chewing on chestnuts for breakfast. It was too cold to waste any time in the mornings, when the fire from the night before had long since gone out, plunging the one-room apartment to chilling temperatures. Keeping warm was a constant battle, and they never had enough money for coal or firewood. Sometimes Ezra would take Toby out to the woods to collect twigs and small branches. Those were the best nights, when they curled up and fell asleep next to a blazing fire, warm and toasty.

Ezra pulled on another sweater, and changed his socks to a pair that didn't have as many holes. It got even colder in the mines than at home, so he saved his best clothing for that.

"We don't have much food left. You and Dog will have to pick some up on your way back today."

His mother always referred to Toby as Dog—or sometimes Shadow because he followed Ezra everywhere. She didn't like Toby because she hadn't wanted him. They didn't need another mouth to feed, she'd said. But Ezra couldn't help it, he'd taken a liking to him. Toby only wanted two things: to stick by Ezra's side, and to help. He didn't care if Ezra burned the porridge or talked too much. And he was an excellent listener: he didn't make a sound.

"I can only get a head of cabbage for my day's wages," Ezra reminded her.

"Fine..." She reached a hand into her pocket and pulled out a few small coins. "This should be enough to get flour and oats, too."

"Thanks."

She didn't respond—she had bobby pins in her mouth, pinning up her dark hair into a bun. When she was done, she said, "I have a double shift tonight, so I'll be back late."

"I'll make dinner."

She gave him the barest slip of a smile. "You're a good boy."

#

They left home together, and his mother locked the door with a thick brass key on a string. She gave it to Ezra, looping it around his neck. She tucked it under his scarf and down into his shirt, where the cold metal burned against his skin.

"Be good," she said, and started South towards the rich houses, her boots crunching in the snow. Ezra and Toby went the opposite direction, toward the mines, joining the hoard of sooty children already on their way there. The older miners didn't care that Ezra brought Toby with him: he was far from the only one with a shadow.

They waited in line at the cage, hopping from foot to foot to stay warm. Finally it was their turn: they were packed into the rickety enclosure with as many others as could fit, and did the jerky ride down, down, down into the dark depths below.

In the mines, Ezra and Toby kept to themselves. Ezra chipped away at the rocky walls with his pickaxe, collecting coal in his little bucket, and Toby stayed by his side, carrying off the bucket when it was full. He was useful to have around. He was quick on his feet, with good vision in the dark.

There was a rumbling sound, and Ezra paused, holding still. Dust sprinkled from the ceiling.

Please, let that be all... he prayed silently, his pickaxe trembling in his hand. He'd never been in a cave-in before, but they'd all heard stories of people trapped in the depths. You were either crushed by falling rock or starved of oxygen, and he didn't know which was worse. To die in the dark, alone...Ezra shivered. It seemed a fate worse than death.

The rumbling worsened. The very ground beneath Ezra's feet shook and he crouched low to the ground, squeezing his eyes shut. Please stop, please stop, please stop—

And then, as suddenly as it had come on, it stopped. Kipling eased open his eyes and heaved a sigh of relief. He was okay.

He looked around to check if Toby was all right, but he wasn't back yet with the bucket. He looked back at the main tunnel and saw a train of people moving towards the cage.

He made his way over to join them. He wasn't rushing, because rushing meant that he thought something was wrong. Rushing meant admitting to himself that he was worried about Toby. Rushing meant that something might have gone wrong.

A dirty face appeared in his path, making him yelp.

"There you are," the man said briskly. "Come with me, Ezra. Quickly."

#

The group of miners parted when Ezra arrived, allowing him a way through. There was a boulder beside the mine shaft, where there hadn't been one before. And at its base, half crushed beneath the rock, was a small body.

Toby.

Ezra's knees buckled and he fell to the ground beside his little brother. Toby's eyes were wide and scared, but they softened when they found Ezra's. He took a long, shuddering breath. Ezra wanted to cry out, to order the miners standing around to move, to lift the rock, but he couldn't find the words. Everything was caught in his throat, trapped.

This couldn't be real. This couldn't be happening.

Toby reached for him, and Ezra leaned over, cradling his brother's head in his arms.

"Ezra," Toby said, his voice small.

"It's okay, I'm here. I'm here, Toby...just hang on..."

But the light disappeared from Toby's eyes. Ezra's little brother—his shadow, his heart, his everything—was gone.