Free First Blood by Megg Jensen

Florian crept into the dark cave, his hands trembling. He wasn't supposed to be there. His father had warned him to stay away from the man in the long cape. But when he'd heard the crackling of pebbles outside his window, he couldn't stop himself from listening.
    Then he couldn't stop himself from crawling out the window.
    Or from following the man down the dark street and into the forest.
    When he disappeared into the mouth of the cave deep in the forest, Florian told himself to go home.
    Unfortunately, he wasn't one to listen to reason—even if it came from his own conscience.
    On tiptoes, he snuck into the cave. Quiet, he listened for noise, for any indication of which way the man had gone. Florian had been in this cave before searching for a special mushroom his father liked to use in his medicines. He knew each twist and turn as the tunnels led deeper underground, spiraling on for what seemed like an eternity.
    Florian squatted, brushing his palm over the ground. His fingers searched for a disturbance in the settled dirt. Smooth to the right. He scuttled over to the other opening. This time he found uneven piles of dirt.
    Footprints.
    Florian smiled. It was as if the man wanted to be followed. Or perhaps the man didn't care.
    He stood and hurried down the tunnel, his eyes quickly adjusting to the darkness. He'd brought other children into the caves before, and they were often in tears before reaching the first fork in the tunnels. His eyes were accustomed to seeing in the dark. Florian preferred darkness to light, often shunning the outside world during the peak of sunlight.
    In the light, his vision was weak. He saw bright, blinding spots whenever he looked at the sun, particularly when sunlight reflected off of something shiny. Sometimes, the spots were so bright, they blocked his vision for most of the day, resulting in a terrible headache and a weak stomach.
    So, Florian kept to the night as much as possible. It helped his vision. It bolstered his sanity.
    Voices echoed through the tunnel. Florian was familiar with the acoustics of the cave system. Someone else might have gone left, but Florian knew to turn right. He crept, careful not to make a sound. Discovery would ruin the fun.
    The flickering light of a torch beckoned. Florian pressed his back against the muddy wall. His shirt pushed into the slimy wall, as worms wriggled to get out of the way. The pressure of something popping against his back distressed him. He'd squished a worm. Its innards would be all over his shirt. His mother scolded him when he was dirty. She would downright detest this.
    Still, Florian pushed harder against the wall as he moved one step at a time closer to the cavern where the man had gone. Their voices, muffled, but slightly clearer, were arguing.
    Florian strained to understand their words.
    "Has he told his secret yet?" a man asked.
    "No. Nothing but silence and a lot of glaring. I don't think he's realized we're not letting him go until he tells us the secret."
    Secret? Florian's ears perked up. He loved secrets.
    He was good at keeping them, too. No one else knew his neighbor had a mistress in the next town. No one else knew the physic spent more time ingesting drugs than making them. No one else knew Clemmy Striker hadn't fallen off the cliff on accident.
    Florian had more secrets in his little mind than anyone, and he prided himself on knowing everything. Someday, it might come in handy.
    "Keep at him," the first voice continued. "As soon as he breaks, send me a message. I want to be the first to know what he's keeping from us."
    Feet scrabbled over the ground, and Florian raced back, his heart pounding, as he turned a corner into another tunnel. He waited, his breath coming in fits and starts under the hand he had clamped over his mouth and nose. It was a trick he'd learned the night he'd witnessed Thom, the butcher, kidnap a neighbor girl from her home. He'd pulled her behind the bushes and done something—Florian wasn't sure