The slavers wheeled my cage next to the children's pens. Through the iron bars, I watched the healer, Harke, move methodically among the young captives. The thin man would pause before each child, eyes unfocused for a moment, before checking them over with gentle hands.

  When he found injuries, a soft green light would emanate from his palms. Cuts sealed closed, bruises faded, and swollen joints returned to normal. His healing magic worked efficiently, though his hands trembled with each touch.

  The freckled girl caught my attention again as Harke approached her. Unlike the others who stayed silent, she spoke up.

  "I'm Mallie." Her gap-toothed smile seemed out of place in this wretched camp. "What's going to happen to us?"

  Harke's thin mustache twitched as he attempted a reassuring smile. "D-d-d-don't worry. You'll be s-sold to nice families who'll t-take good care of you."

  "You're not very good at lying." Mallie's bright eyes studied his face. "But that's okay. You're nicer than the others here."

  "I-I'm not one of them!" Harke's voice cracked. He wrung his hands, glancing nervously at the nearby guards. "I'm a p-prisoner too. They caught my whole team. K-killed the others, but kept me for my healing. I d-didn't choose this!"

  "I know," Mallie said softly. "I can tell you're scared too."

  Harke's shoulders slumped as he completed her examination. The facade of the dutiful camp healer crumbled for just a moment, revealing the broken man beneath. Here was another soul trapped in this place, forced to use his gifts to help keep the slaving operation running smoothly.

  I observed Harke's methodical progress as he began his examination at the adult pens. The captives reached for him through the bars, voices desperate.

  "My daughter, is she well?" A woman's weathered hands clutched at his robes.

  "She's f-f-fine. All the children are being t-treated well." Harke's stutter grew worse with each lie.

  "What'll happen to us?" A man this time, face lined with worry.

  "You'll be s-sold to work the fields or mines. It's... it's not so b-bad." Harke couldn't meet their eyes as he moved between the pens, healing injuries with trembling fingers.

  Finally, he approached my cage. His steps grew hesitant, and he wrung his hands nervously as he studied my mechanical form.

  "C-c-can you speak?" He asked, keeping a careful distance.

  I shook my head slowly.

  Relief flooded his features. "You understand me though? That's... that's good! That will make things m-m-much easier, then." His curious gaze examined my form through the bars, looking from my face, to my mechanical body, then to the pale white flesh of my bare left arm. "I m-must say, I've never s-seen an intelligent monster like you before."

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  I tilted my head, the gesture questioning.

  "You don't know what that m-means?" Harke moved closer, his curiosity seemingly overwhelming his fear. "Intelligent monsters are d-different from regular ones. The ones in the Hellzones just attack anything they see, but intelligent monsters can think and r-reason like humans do. They form communities, have relationships, even live in some human cities, though usually in the p-poorest areas."

  His explanation stirred something in my fragmented memories, but it slipped away before I could grasp it. Still, his words helped make sense of why I was different from the savage beasts I'd encountered in the wasteland.

  "Most kingdoms treat them terribly though," Harke continued. "Kill them on sight or enslave them like... like what's happening here."

  I reached through the bars, my pale flesh arm moving slowly to avoid startling the nervous healer. My hand settled on his thin shoulder in what I hoped was a comforting gesture. Harke flinched at first, then relaxed as he understood my intent.

  A weak smile crossed his face. "Thank you. That's... that's very kind." He straightened his brown robes. "Now, I need to check you for injuries. It's remarkable really, you're quite large and intelligent for being less than a y-year old."

  My mechanical body stilled. How could he know my age? The blue box that only I could see listed it as zero years. I remained motionless as Harke's eyes unfocused, similar to when he'd examined the other prisoners. His gaze swept over my form - from the mechanical legs to the armored chest, lingering on my exposed flesh.

  "Fascinating," he muttered, his stutter momentarily forgotten in his concentration. "Your flesh shows no signs of injury or wear, despite your apparent emergence from the ground, according to your species name. The mechanical components are crude but functional. And your stats..." He trailed off, shaking his head in wonder.

  I tilted my head, questioning. His knowledge of my origins unsettled me.

  "Oh! You're wondering how I know these things?" Harke's hands twisted in his robes. "It's my Analyze ability. I-it lets me s-see details about living things - their health, abilities, even basic history. I'm at Rank B Analyze, which is quite high for s-someone of my level." For a moment, the short man seems proud of his accomplishment, a smile brightening his worry-lined face. The happy look quickly vanished as his mind returned to reality. "That's why they keep me here. Not just for healing, b-but to evaluate new captures."

  His shoulders slumped at this admission. I patted his shoulder again, feeling a strange kinship with this imprisoned healer who could see through my mysteries.

  "Well, you seem healthy enough," Harke said, stepping back from my cage. "Though I admit, I've n-never examined a monster quite like you before. I should report this to Belmund." He gave me an apologetic look before hurrying towards a large tent where the fat jailer had disappeared earlier.

  I settled back against the iron bars, my mechanical body creaking as the tension eased from its joints. The camp sprawled before me: a collection of tents and wooden structures built into the mountain valley. Burly guards patrolled between the slave pens, hands resting on weapon hilts. Some carried whips which they weren't shy about using on anyone who made too much noise.

  The stench of unwashed bodies and human misery hung thick in the air. In one pen, a group of peasants huddled together, their clothes caked with dried mud from their journey. Another held what looked like merchants, their once-fine clothes now torn and dirty. Every face showed the same defeated expression.

  My gaze drifted to the children's pen. Most of the young ones were pressed against the far side, as far from my cage as possible. But not Mallie. She stood at the bars closest to me, her bright green eyes fixed on my mechanical form. When our gazes met, her face lit up with that gap-toothed smile I'd seen earlier. She raised her hand and waved, as casual as if greeting a friend in a village square.

  I froze. This small human child, who'd witnessed my capture and transport, who surely heard the guards call me monster; she showed me no fear. My pale flesh arm moved hesitantly, returning her wave with slow, careful movements.

  Her smile grew wider, and she bounced on her toes, seeming pleased by my response. It stirred something in my fractured memories, a sense of warmth, of simple joy. But like all my other memories, it slipped away before I could fully grasp it.