"Clearly, if she was forced to marry a man and had to fork him to stop it." Then she paused. "Wait, does that mean she's still married?"

"I'm honestly not sure," I admitted. "We haven't gotten that far yet. See, the whole thing happened because when she woke up, Rymar, Kanik, and I were out back having tea and trying to decide what to do with her."

"What are you doing with her?"

I just sighed. "The Mayor doesn't want her in a city building. He would prefer she isn't in town, but since she's already here, we're allowed to host her as a refugee. However, if she 'gets out' and someone kills her, he says he will not press charges."

"That poor thing," my mother grumbled. "Zasen, you didn't see her in the exam room. She was absolutely terrified. I had to sedate her just to get the bandages off her feet. It took Brielle, Kanik, and Jeera to hold her down!"

"I know."

"You don't know," she snapped. "You didn't see her. Maybe you heard she struggled, but you were not there to witness the pure panic on her face. That girl is scared. She's also malnourished, covered in bruises, and tensed up when I lifted her slip-thing high enough to just see her knees! She's repressed. She's probably been abused. None of those things can you understand."

"And she's a Mole," I reminded my mother.

"She is a person," Mom shot back. "That is the first rule of medicine, Zasen."

"And I never finished the courses to become a doctor."

"You're still a medic," she countered. "You still know medicine, and you treat your warriors who defend this town. Do you pick and choose because of who you like most?"

"No, based on who needs care the most or fastest. Triage," I assured her.

She pointed at my face. "You treat the wounds, not the person who has them. Well, I don't know how to break it to you, but from what you've just told me, this girl has plenty of wounds. Not all of them are on her body. That means you need to treat the ones you can't see too."

"And if she's a spy?" I asked. "An assassin? Mom, she's a Mole. She is our enemy."

"She is a scared little girl who is brave enough to give her enemies a chance, so why can't you?"

Yeah, okay, she had a point there. So far, Ayla seemed to be more worried about me being a man than that I was a Dragon. Granted, she'd asked if we were lizards, so she might not understand exactly what being a Dragon meant.

I added it to the list of things to teach her. Or at least the list to have Kanik teach her, because he'd be the best at that. Rymar needed to practice English before he got involved, unless Orin - er, Ayla - could learn Vestrian fast enough.

But what I told my mother was, "I'm hoping I can flip her."

She huffed out a smug laugh. "Have you tried asking her?"

"Asking her what?"

"What you want to know?"

I groaned. "Mom, that isn't how this works."

"Maybe not for you, but it might be for her," she countered. "Zasen, she stabbed her husband with a fork. An eating utensil! To me, that sounds like an act of desperation. She's covered in bruises, and I highly doubt you boys gave her most of them. They're more than a few days old."

"We gave her a few," I admitted. "She kept trying to run away. Usually, she ran right towards a predator. I had to tackle her to keep her from rushing a coyote den!"

"And bruises change color with time," she told me. "From the Reaper's summer camp to here is two days of walking at most. She had bruises on her that were easily four days old. Some even older."

"So you think I should just walk up to her and ask if she'll tell me how to get into the Mole base?"

Mom canted her head. "Sure. Why not?"

"Because those are her people!"

"Okay, so ask her about her people first," she said. "Ask her about her friends, her family, or anyone she might miss. Find out if she has ties, and if she doesn't, then ask her about how to get into their base. If she does, then ask how to get into her base to bring them here to be with her."

I stared at my mom for a long moment, trying to let her words sink in. "Some days, you scare me, Mom."

"Because I understand women better than you?" she asked. "Or because I know exactly why you brought the girl to me instead of a trauma doctor? She's not pregnant. She doesn't need an obstetrician or gynecologist, and any doctor could've cleaned and closed the wounds on her feet. You brought her to me for a reason."

"Because you're my mom?" I tried.

She narrowed her eyes at me, not falling for my line of shit. "Nuh-unh."

So I sighed and gave in. "Because she was scared, a Mole, and I knew you would know how to deal with her without making it worse."

"Exactly," she agreed. "Because I know how to deal with women. It's basically the main part of my job. And not all women have lovers or partners who treat them well. Sometimes, they need help getting out of a very bad situation. Most times, the first step is simply listening, so maybe while you're helping to put that cream on her sunburned skin, you should consider trying it?"

"And if she's lying to us?" I asked next. "Mom, what if her entire story is just a way to convince us to feel sorry for her and give her access to everything here?"

"I didn't say to stop using your brain," she assured me. "I said have empathy. I raised you to be able to do both at the same time. I also think she might surprise you. Often, people who are the most desperate are also the most willing to trust, simply because we all have to trust someone."

"Yeah, but she can't trust me," I said softly. "She can't, because if she is a spy, I will kill her."

"Then tell her that," Mom said. "Give her the chance to choose her own future. If she chooses poorly, then try to snap the connection between the first and second vertebrae. That will kill her fastest."

"Yeah," I said, picking up the jar of cream she'd given me. "And once again, you prove where I got my fighting spirit from. Try not to be too bloodthirsty, Mom?"

"Try to be nice to the Mole girl, Zasen," she replied. "And feed her more. She needs red meat, plenty of protein, and just more calories than she's been getting."

"We're trying," I promised. "So far, it's been mostly birds and rabbits, though."

"Red meat," my mother insisted. "I'm pretty sure she could use the iron. Go find a nice deer or something tonight."

I grumbled under my breath. "Mom, I just got back from a long hike across the forest. I was hoping for a few nights of taking it easy."

"And instead, you have a woman to take care of," she reminded me. "So find a deer. That should give you quite a few days of taking it easy. Oh, and I need some more meat if you're going out."

"You could've started with that," I said. "I'll go hunting, Mom. Just let Jeera know I'm going to need a lot more sweet potatoes. It seems Ayla likes those."

"Ayla?"

"The girl," I clarified, realizing I hadn't told my mom her name.

"Ayla," she said, nodding to show she approved. "I like it. And I want to see her again in two weeks to check on her feet, so you make sure she's put on some weight by then."

"Promise," I said. "That, or she'll be dead and none of us will have to worry about it."