"Why?"

He just glanced over at where Rymar was encouraging the waif of a girl to keep eating. "She clearly hasn't been fed well in weeks, maybe longer. For a spy to put in that kind of work? From a Mole? Never mind that we never see their women. It's the men. Always the men."

"Which might be why they thought sending a woman would work," I pointed out. "Zasen, that little girl might be part of a bigger plan."

"Mm..." He didn't sound convinced. "Well, it's a day and a half back to town, so I think we have time to see what she does."

"And if she tries to kill you?" I asked. "After all, removing the Wyvern would even the odds."

"And Drozel would kill her before she could finish the job." He shook his head. "No, Kanik. Didn't you see her try to hit him with that chain? She doesn't even have the strength to make it hurt. She has no weapons - "

"We do."

"And I could pluck it out of her fingers if she managed to get her hands on one," he went on. "She's slow, she's noisy, and she's weak. The only way she could be a threat would be if she caught us all sleeping. I'm pretty sure either the Moles are hoping she'll get some information from us, or she's a criminal they simply wanted to discard."

"And if she's a criminal, that means she's stronger than you think," I pointed out.

He groaned. "Just treat her feet."

"Okay. Fine." I rolled forward, onto my own feet. "She's still going to walk slow."

"Then wrap them," he suggested. "And try to get her to trust you?"

That made me give him a confused look. "Her? Why?"

The Wyvern simply smiled deviously. "Because spies can be flipped, my friend. They sent us a weak little girl. There's no reason we shouldn't use her against them."

Now that was a thought I could get behind. Nodding, I headed over to Zasen's pack and picked out supplies from it. He always carried the medical stuff. Usually, he was the one who used it, but he had a point. For years now, he'd made sure the Moles knew who "the Wyvern" was. Now that they did, only a fool wouldn't be terrified of him - and for good reason!

Once I had antiseptic ointment, bandages, and a clamp to grasp the objects in her feet, I headed that way. The girl had just finished eating, but she was looking at Rymar as if trying to understand him. Not his words, but him. His body, his color, his existence - or something.

"Rymar?" I asked. "I'm supposed to treat her feet."

"Knees too," Rymar said as he leaned back. "Looks like her hands are also scuffed, and her wrists are chaffed from the manacles."

"Should we take those off?" I asked, eyeing the heavy pot-metal she was chained by.

"Nah," Rymar decided. "We might need them later."

The whole time, the girl was looking back and forth between us. And the closer I got, the more she pulled into herself. Her arms went against her chest, curled up like a shield before her. Her legs bent so her knees were up.

She wasn't trying to run, but she was certainly braced. As calmly as I could, I held out the items I was carrying so she could see them. It was little more than some rolled bandages and medical supplies, but her eyes went wide.

Bright blue eyes.

The color was almost a match for Zasen's tail. Surrounded by gold lashes, they were the most intense color on her. Granted, her hair was darker than most of her kind, or at least the ones I'd seen. I wasn't sure if that was just the way their women were, or if she was unique in some way.

Then the girl began to scoot backwards. When her head began to shake, I simply sighed and crouched down, doing my best to make myself as small and unintimidating as possible. What I didn't expect was for Rymar to slide himself back.

That caught the girl's attention. She froze, those blue eyes still too wide, and her gaze bounced between us. That was when I realized the problem.

"Two of us are too much," I told my friend. "Rymar, make a gentle gesture to her and leave?"

"A what?" he asked.

"Rub her shoulder," I offered. "Like she's a child. Something to calm her down before she tries to bolt again and makes her feet worse?"

"Uh, okay."

Then he flashed one of his most charming smiles at her, leaned in to gently rub her arm, and slowly pushed to his feet. The girl watched, pausing to glance at me in between. But when Rymar simply walked away, she didn't relax like I'd hoped. Instead, those wide eyes locked on me.

"I'm just going to fix your feet," I said gently, pointing to the part in question.

Her response was soft and made of sounds I couldn't quite understand. The strange way she made her vowels and the hard hit of consonants was like nothing I'd heard before. Still, this had to be done, so I dropped onto my ass, setting my knees up and wide, then pointed to her foot again.

She swallowed.

With her nearly translucent skin, I could see her throat move as it happened. The girl's coloration was strange to me. No matter how many of her kind I saw, they always reminded me of albino things. Her skin wasn't white, though. It was more of a pale pink color, as if the blood running through it was the only pigment she had.

Orin. That was the word we had for the distinct coloration of Moles. We also used it for other cave creatures, those without the red or pink eyes of an albino. Pale. Sheltered. Her hair was gold, but it certainly wasn't a shade I'd call blonde. No, we had many blondes in our society, and none of them were like this.

All of it combined to make her look alien. Maybe her shape was like the tailless, but her words, her appearance, and even her reactions were different. The only example I could think of was comparing a sparrow to an eagle. But while Moles should've been the more dangerous, this girl was making me think she might be the sparrow in that analogy.

"I'm going to touch your foot," I said gently, knowing my tone mattered more than the words.

And yet, when I reached my hand out for her ankle, she still tried to pull it away. So, instead of grabbing her, I simply petted. Keeping my nails out of the way, my fingers traced the skin down to the top of her foot before I did it again.

The third time, she finally relaxed. Carefully, without grabbing her, I cradled the back of her ankle and guided the worst foot forward. She didn't fight me. I was pretty sure those blue eyes didn't blink, though.

Holding up the clamp, I turned it all around so she could see the tool, then opened it. When she still didn't fight, I lowered it down to her foot and looked for a minor splinter first. The one by her heel was small, just a piece of a pine needle. While she continued to stare, I clamped the end and plucked it out, then held it up for her to see the result.

Her body softened and her lips parted in awe. I couldn't say she smiled, but the way her lips relaxed came close. Finally, she understood what I was doing. So when I lifted her foot a little more, the girl even helped.

"And this is going to hurt," I warned, glancing up to check on her face again as I eyed the chunk of wood buried right into the arch. "I'm sorry."

There was no reaction, so I simply got down to work. Opening the clamp wide, I judged the angle of the puncture, then secured the device on the portion sticking out. Her leg tensed, but thankfully she didn't try to jerk it back. So, hoping to make it as painless as possible, I yanked the wood out as fast as I could.

Her toes twitched. That was it. If it had been me, I would've at least groaned, but all this girl did was tense her toes? Confused, I looked up at her face again, and this time the girl nodded. She understood what I was doing? Or was she saying she was okay with the pain?

I wasn't sure, and I couldn't ask, so I simply continued. Piece after piece, I plucked debris from her tender and uncalloused skin, amazed at how soft she was. Most tailless I knew had at least some calluses on their feet, but not this orin. Nope, it was almost as if she'd existed in a cage for her entire life.

When I finished the first foot, I moved to the second. Some of the cuts and punctures bled, but I would deal with that in a moment. And yet, no matter how deep the splinter was, the girl never did more than tense her toes. She didn't cry out. She didn't curse or hit at me. She simply let me continue on to the next.

So maybe Zasen was right? Because I couldn't imagine what sort of person would be able to ignore pain the way this Mole girl did. She must have been trained for it in some way? Or, maybe Moles simply didn't feel pain the same way we did?

When I finished plucking the debris out, I slathered the ointment across her feet liberally. Next, I began to wrap them. Twice, her brow creased as she watched, but that was it. Tending her injuries was more like practicing on a doll for all the response she was giving me.

And once her feet were done, I moved to her knees, putting ointment on those as well. After that, I checked her arms and hands. Her wrists were raw, and while I knew it would give us more control over her, I refused to be cruel about it. She was already frail enough to pose no threat, so I decided to wrap them. This way, at least the manacles wouldn't cut any deeper than they already had.