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.
Once I was finished, I collected all of my supplies and leaned back, daring to look at her face one more time. Our eyes met, and then she did the last thing I would've expected: the girl smiled. Maybe it was forced, but she made the effort, and while she might not be able to use words to thank me, that one gesture worked well enough.
So I smiled back.
Never, in all my life, would I have imagined myself smiling at the enemy. I generally just killed them. Then again, those had all been men, and unlike some of us, I wasn't sure I could kill a woman. Maybe that made me weak, but I didn't care.
Even weak, I could defend myself. I simply hoped this girl never made me prove it.
SeventeenAyla
Once my feet were wrapped, the Wyvern returned. This time, he held a container of some kind. I wanted to call it a jar or a bottle. He opened the top and then offered it to me. When I paused for too long, the strange dragon-man lifted it to his own lips, took a drink, and then offered it again.
This time, I accepted. After the tuber, I was starting to understand their gestures. He was saying this was safe for me, and then proving it. Still, I paused to sniff at the opening first. Smelling nothing, I tilted it carefully, until the fluid touched my lips, sampling it.
Water. Sweet, cool water! Gasping in surprise, I tilted the bottle a little more and drank. My throat was so dry after running so hard. Gulp after gulp, I sucked back the fluid, sighing when I had to pause for a breath.
Above me, the Wyvern watched, a strange curl to his lips making me think my reaction was a good one. Hopefully that didn't mean he'd put something in here! Then again, even if he had, what could I do about it? I had to drink something, and this was the only option I had.
When the bottle was empty, I offered it back. The Wyvern took it with one dark hand, then nodded in a gesture which was almost appreciative. That was it. He didn't try to speak to me, didn't ask me for anything else. The massive man-like thing simply turned and walked back to where the packs waited.
He wasn't the only one. All of the Dragons grabbed one of the bags and then shoved their arms through the straps. For most of them, the bag rested against their backs, with a strap over each shoulder. All except the yellow man wearing pants. His bag was different. It had one strap that went across his chest, with the bag settled against his lower back and hip area.
The men exchanged a few words in tones too soft for me to make out. Not that it would've mattered. Their language was crushed and rushed-sounding. Maybe because of the shape of their vocal cords? I'd read something about that in one of my books, but it had been long enough ago I barely remembered what it had said.
Distracted by my thoughts, I didn't notice the solid green Dragon approaching until he grabbed my arms near the elbows. Without thinking, I pushed at him, trying to force him to let go. I wasn't going to let him haul me where he wanted. Not without a fight!
The beast snarled words at me. I merely pushed again, flailing my hands as fast as I could to keep him from getting a good grip. That was when the creature had enough. He swung, using the flat of his hand. The impact landed on my cheek, rocking my entire body to the side.
I went with it, curling up in a vain attempt to protect my belly and hooking my arms over my head. I knew what came next. This was what men did when a woman didn't cooperate. They punished us, and from the burning on the side of my face, a "light" slap from one of these muscular creatures hurt so much worse than the punishment of a mere human.
But the Dragon didn't kick. He never got the chance. The yellow one shoved between us, his tail whipping over my body even as he pushed the green man back. Their words were loud and angry. The pair gestured wildly.
The rest were no better. The tan one was snarling at the brown one, and the Wyvern was yelling back. Clearly, these monsters were nearly feral, ready to attack each other. I could only imagine what they'd do to me if I didn't obey.
So I uncurled myself and climbed to my feet. The wounds hurt when my weight settled, but it was bearable. In truth, my feet didn't really hurt that much more than the rest of me. I was sure the abuse of my body by both Mr. Morgan and Mr. Saunders was a part of it, but so was landing on the wood in the forest, running as hard as I had, and even sleeping with my arms so high.
But pain was fleeting. It could be ignored.
Yet the Dragons had all fallen silent and were looking at me. I had no idea what they wanted. I could see little more than their general shapes, so wasn't sure what I was missing. Confused, and feeling like I was doing something wrong, I reverted to the only thing I knew: I dropped my eyes to the ground and folded my hands before me.
Meek.
Submissive.
Terrified.
But it seemed to work. The yellow Dragon mumbled something to the green one, then reached over to press gently on my back, guiding me forward. My first step was careful, testing out my feet, but each one got easier.
The group walked. I wasn't sure where we were going, but the five Dragons fell in around me. The Wyvern was to my left. The yellow one kept his place to my right. The dark brown one followed behind me, but the tan and green ones led the way.
At some point, I realized the floor - ground? - under my feet had shifted from grass and sticks to hard-packed dirt. Confused, I looked up to find a gap which looked a lot like the paths I'd seen in my books, but it was wider.
Maybe this was a road? But the roads I'd read about had been more like stone. Humans had packed rocks and other substances together to make a solid surface that would be good in all weather. This? It was just dirt, or maybe clay.
It also wasn't perfectly smooth. With the light changing as I moved, momentary brightness often blinded me. I stubbed my toe the first time and staggered. The yellow one caught my arm, helping me for a moment until I was stable again. The next time, I tripped in a low spot. This time, it was the Wyvern who caught me.
And we walked. Then we walked some more. The chain hanging from my arms was heavy. Worse, it was long enough to drag on the ground, so I had to carry it. The muscles in my arms were burning. Soon enough, my entire body was.
It was almost as if the very air around me was on fire. Sweat poured from my skin, soaking my chemise and likely making it transparent. I wanted to cover myself, but my arms hurt too much to lift any higher. Never mind that the Dragons all wore much less.
