The “feral pens” pens were separated from the rest of the bandit camp by wooden walls that did not bother to make themselves discreet, unlike the perimeter walls of the tribe camp. These were thick and reinforced, looking very much intended to actually stop a maiden from getting through.

The sight of them gave Rick pause, even with Yasir’s pleading insistence. The guards weren’t Orcs, but chained bandits. It was a set-up that screamed of a disposable first line of defense. And the maidens appeared quite aware of their role, remaining rather reluctant to open up the place despite Monica glaring daggers at them from over Rick's head.

But open the doors they did.

The inside was far more unnerving than the walls surrounding it.

At first, it looked like nothing more than an open coffin warehouse. Rows upon rows of human sized simple wooden boxes, each one with fist-sized holes poked through the front, with thick sliding wooden bolts keeping each box locked tight. It didn’t quite click that these coffins had live occupants until he saw a hand poking through one of the holes, weakly scratching away at the lid.

The stench was mix between a sewer and a slaughterhouse. It clawed at Rick’s throat with rusty nails and made him cover his nose.

Monica didn't seem to even mind, Yasir only grimaced.

The moment the doors shut behind them, the screams began.

Most every box rattled and shook, arms thrust out through holes, many of these holes having been carved out fromthe inside. Some of the arms were furred, others were scaled or covered in feathers, some looked human entirely. All of them were bloody, dirty, emaciated, skin stretched over bones.

These were maidens.

The wooden boxes were not normal wood, they couldn't have survived. Orc-wood, then?

“No need to be so emotional, little male. They are all just ferals.” The guard laughed, canine ears twitching in annoyance at the sounds.

Just thinking about being locked into such a space was...

> Rick stood in a stone dungeon, feet glued to the floor, breath caught in a gasp. In front of him was Monica, kneeling, head hung low, arms bound to the ceiling in heavy chains. Her body was battered black and blue, her face partially swollen, breaths labored. He’d done the only thing he could. He ran to her side, holding her tight. Even as the baron took her away from him.

>

> The world spun out of focus.

>

> Rick was in the forest. Darkness surrounded him. Monica was bleeding out, the wound in her gut torn out, it was too severe. The baron lay next to Rick, a bloody smile carved upon his throat.

>

> But it was Dia who Rick was focused on, shaking, holding the bloodied knife, horror in her eyes.

>

> "Save Monica."

“Rick?” Monica’s question held a singular tone of finality. Her thick hand held his with a reassuring iron grip.

It broke the memory, bringing him back to reality. The taste of blood in his mouth lingered. "I'm fine." He squeezed back, more concerned over Monica's reaction. He turned his attention to the guard. “They're all feral?” He asked with a furrowed brow.

“And former heel kissers at that.” The guard added with a smirk.

“Monica.” Rick turned his focus to the tall maiden. “What have the others said about these… ferals?”

“Dia want to put to kill. Urtha want to send to fight humans.” She declared with a tone of frustration, rolling her eyes.

With a slight nod, Rick turned to the one companion who’d remained deathly quiet throughout the exchange. “Yasir, do you know where your wife might be?”

The man hesitated. He looked pale and squeamish, glancing at the boxes and quickly turning away at the sight of it. It did not appear like he could stomach the sight of it, and yet he kept glancing between them, searching. “I… she’s a Spinner.”

Which meant their best bet was the guard. “Spinner. Know of any?”

“Yeah, buggy ones have a weird scent. This way.”

They walked, keeping their distance from the hands. The ferals didn’t relent in their attempt to get out, whining, barking, screaming. It made Rick’s skin crawl, though it was Yasir that looked worse off out of everyone there, his typical jovial tone and smile gone. The man was wringing his hands, looking left and right, lost, but unwilling to stop searching. The pain was palpable in his desperation, twitching out to some boxes and then freezing as he appeared to realize some detail that did not match what he sought.

It reminded Rick that though he might have been a prisoner of the Ghoul for barely a week, Yasir had been trapped here for several months.

"Did the tribe do this?"

"The blood-suckers." The guard kicked one of the boxes, driving the occupant to lash out at the air.

A single question kept creeping up in the back of his mind. Was this how he'd allow things to be if he took the wheel? He glanced at Monica, her expression bored, only slightly wary of their surroundings. Did she...?

"This is it." The guard's declaration interrupted his line of thought. The canine maiden pointing at one of the few boxes that wasn't rattling or moving. "Be going now."

The idea solidified in Rick’s mind. His gaze moved from Yasir to the box, and then to the guard. His brows furrowed, a path forward became clear. A path to the driver's seat.

First came Yasir.

“Monica, pin her down.”

It took the guard a second to realize Rick had been talking about her. A second Monica had not needed. The taller maiden reached out at the canine, grasping her by the leg and swinging her overhead, slamming her to the ground in a single arch. The air was knocked out of the canine, and all Monica had to do was park her claw against the other maiden's chest.

"Sleepy time." Rick declared.

With a nod, Monica clenched her fist. “Wait!” The Doggirl barked out with half a breath, right until the fist came down on to her head with enough force to dent the ground. “No.” Another punch cut her words short. “I-”

Third time proved to be the charm. The maiden went limp. Monica listened carefully.

“Alive.” She proclaimed with a nod, an eager smile plastered on her face.

Rick eyed her for a second. "Dia told you not to hit people, didn't she?"

"Monica not tell."

With a nod, Rick turned to their human companion. “Anyway, we might as well… Yasir?”

The man had been looking at Rick as if he’d grown a second head. “She… you… how?”

“She likes me, so she helps me out.” He explained with a shrug.

"He forget use 'please' some of the times." Monica shrugged, patting his head. "But he cute."

Grumbling, Rick turned his attention to the box. “The maiden in there may or may not be your wife, but she is definitely going to be under the feral curse.”

The man immediately sobered, his gaze hardening as he regarded Monica, then Rick. His lips thinned. “If she can’t be saved…”

“What?” He shook his head. “No, I meant to step back. It wouldn’t do if she accidentally hurt you or something.” The man quickly complied, giving them ample space, and Rick approached the unconscious guard, carefully removing the enchanted collar. He tossed the item at Yasir.

He glanced at the item, then at the guard. "Death would be a mercy," he whispered.

“Killing her might raise an alarm, scent of fresh kill and all that.” He frowned at the Doggirl for a moment. “It takes about a week for the feral curse to take hold of a maiden, right? She’ll be dead or bonded by then.” Maybe he just didn't care enough to bother, or maybe he felt uncomfortable. He couldn't physically kill the maiden without getting messy, and asking Monica to kill in cold blood just didn't feel right.

Either way, what mattered was that he needed Yasir on team-Rick. He reached out to the door, grabbing a hold of the wooden pole that kept it shut. Slowly, he moved out of the way, preparing himself to make a run for it if necessary.

“Monica, please no hurting, no killing. Just pin,” he said, giving her a meaningful nod as he dragged the chunk out. The sound made the nearby trapped ferals holler again, slamming and fighting against their boxes weakly. Rick swung the door open, moving several further steps out and holding the wooden pole like the improvised weapon it would be.

And…

Nothing.

There was a thud, a body hitting the ground.

“Ahina!”

Yasir cried out. The man tried to get closer, but Monica shoved him out of the way with one giant paw while she pinned down the maiden. Rick hesitated, wondering whether she was dead or alive. Only the Sabertooth's focus betrayed that there was a potential for a threat, and thus the maiden had to be alive.

Rick took a moment to look at 'Ahina', gauging what she was since he'd never seen the breed before. She was human by nearly all standards like most other maidens, the thing that set her apart were the four spider-like limbs that emerged from her back, each one being twice the length of her arms and covered in black chitin with yellow coloring the joints. The woman appeared to be nearing her forties, hair was a mass of dreadlocks, her skin just as dark as Yasir’s.

The maiden was covered in filth, scratches, caked blood covering her fingers.

The inside of the box was scratched all over.

“Put the collar on her.” Rick instructed Yasir while Monica kept the maiden against the ground. She might have been unconscious, but Rick wasn’t about to take risks. “The people of this kingdom use starvation and food to force submission on them. I’m guessing the Vampire had similar plans.”

"Barbarism." Yasir spat. "Needless cruelty. Monsters wearing another's skin."

"Not going to disagree." Rick nodded absently. "Do you have an alternative? We might need to take her somewhere to wean her into the bond." The process could very well take a day or two. As far he'd seen, it was easier to form bonds with maidens that weren't feral. Not that he could count himself as someone experienced in the field.

"It is unnecessary." Yasir bit his lip. "We use the knot that is tied twice. Ours are the ways of kindness." His hands moved quickly, strapping the enchanted leather around the maiden's neck with practised ease. His hands were shaking as he pulled away.

Rick nodded slightly. “How long would it take?"

"A man's love has no need for time. It should be done within the hour, such is the gentle touch." He hesitated. "Though... I would require the chief's aid to expedite the process."

Now this he needed to see. "In what way would you need the help?"

“A man opens their heart to welcome any who seeks comfort or shelter.” Yasir’s smile trembled slightly, eyes never looking away from Ahina, kindness and pain glimmering in his eyes. “Monica need only scare my beloved, so that she might run into my arms… emotionally, of course. Please do not let her run free, or we might truly never see her again.”

"Monica's great at being scary when she wants to." And when she didn't want to too. "I'd be more concerned with the scare being a bit too intense when she's in a delicate state."

“My Ahina would not allow something as mundane as a need for food to slow her down.” Yasir’s laugh was strained, but it brought a sparkle of hope to his eye.

Rick nodded. "Monica, if you could please give her a little scare?" She shrugged in response, leaning down, increasing the pressure. It was like flipping a switch, Monica's lips parted into a vicious snarl, the Sabertooth's very presence switching towards something dangerous and predatorial on a dime.

The Spinner reacted just as abruptly, snapping out of her unconsciousness in a panic, thrashing against Monica’s grasp, legs flinging around wildly as she tried to escape at all costs. But the feline knew what she was doing, and the spider-maiden could not move so much as an inch from where she was pinned.

It was during this mad scramble that Yasir approached with slow steps. He made soft shushing sounds as he did, making his presence known, gently crouching in front of the Spinner, directly in her line of sight. But not within her reach. His eyes strained and his gentle smile wavered, but he did not move, remaining in place and waiting.

Whatever sign he was waiting for, he saw it, and approached a little more, close enough they could touch if both reached out. “Be calm, my beautiful Ahina.” He whispered, bowing his head. “Do you remember? I am here. Be calm. You are safe.” Gently he reached towards her, a movement that was steady and unthreatening, showing the open palm of his hand. “I am here, my Ahina.”

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At first the feral didn’t react, remaining tense as Monica’s growl lingered in the background like a rumbling chainsaw. Her thrashing continued for several minutes, breathing hard, eyes wild and unfocused, hissing and scratching at the ground. It was not until she became still that Yasir moved to get closer, putting himself within her reach.

Rick’s throat tightened, ready to call it off. It was impossible to miss the shark-like teeth on the Spinner, or how the arachnid limbs were sharp enough they could puncture through a human. Every alarm in his head was going off. He bit the inside of his cheek, fists clenched tightly as he feared the worst might occur.

The feral maiden snapped her attention at him, and Rick held his breath.

“I am here, my love.” The man whispered, gently stroking her hair, rubbing off some of the muck from her face.

She didn't lash out, didn't attack, eyes captivated by the man's face. There was a slowness to his gestures, a kindness to his touch. After only a second, the maiden let out a slow sigh, tension easing out of her. It was as if the two were falling into their own little world, Ahina becoming entranced in Yasir's eyes.

And then, slowly, her eyes began to focus.

The maiden blinked wearily, mouthing words, but not making any sounds.

She attempted to speak, coughing, failing, voice all but a garbled wheeze. "Bael?" She managed between coughs. The maiden blinked away tears. "Is... is it really you?"

“It is, my Ahina.” Yasir was far less restrained, tears running down his cheeks, dampening his beard as he pulled her into his embrace the instant Monica had let go. “It is.”

Rick tried to hide his shock from showing. Kiara had pointed out that humans had an easier time forming bonds the less maiden there was in their bloodline. And it had taken him a full three hours before he'd connected with Eva and dispelled the feral curse. And here was Yasir, who'd accomplished the feat without a Succubus to bolster emotions, in less than half an hour. Either the man was someone with a very fortuitous ancestry, or this way of doing things was something Rick needed to learn.

Monica was looking his way with a sly grin. "Rick way better." She emphasized the point by wriggling her hips and caressing his thigh with her tail, smugly grinning at him.

"I'm sure you do," he replied, shaking his head and thankful the couple before them was so oblivious to the rest of the world. "I need to talk to Kiara and Eva."

“No.” The feline snapped, her expression instantly turning into a glare.

That was a very abrupt change in mood. “What?”

“Eva bad,” she proclaimed, crossing her paws under her cleavage and staring down at him like she was some kind of some angry war-goddess that had just passed judgement. “Monica not forgive Eva. Maybe kill Eva later.”

It took him half a second to process the off-handed intent for murder.

"WHAT!?" This time he snapped. His hands lashed out, grasping her shirt and pulling her down so they would be eye to eye. The move startled her enough not to fight back, but her determination did not waver. “Tell me what happened. Exactly.”

Monica batted his grip away, flashing her fangs at him. “Eva almost kill Rick. Hurt bad.” Her finger poked at his chest, at the scars hidden underneath. "Eva enemy of Rick."

“She lost control,” he replied, regaining his anger in quick order.

“No.” She poked his chest more insistently this time, causing him to stumble a step back. “Eva fault and Rick fault. Eva dangerous, Rick no protect Rick. Eva no stop Eva. Rick fight dumb.”

He took a moment to parse through the words. She was blaming him for losing control too? And for fighting the wrong way? His lips curled as he held her gaze. “You almost killed me once, too.”

“Different. Past Rick dumb. Past Monica not want to hurt Rick. Accident.” She tapped her nose. “I smell Eva. Eva want eat Rick. Kill Rick.”

“I meant before that.” He replied, hands on his hip.

“Monica feral. Dia say feral not respo-” she grimaced. “Res-pon-sis-blah feral Monica.” Frustration flashed across her face at having to slow down, but she held firm. “Eva no feral, want eat Rick.”

“So you’re insisting she’s at fault for losing control?” He rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “Why is it my fault, though? I fought her the only way I could. I tried to protect myself.”

Monica rolled her eyes. “Rick dumb. Bad fight, very very very bad fight.” Her claw poked at his chest again, this time sharp enough it made him wince. “Rick try fight. Use hands? Bad!” Her hand grasped his wrist. “No claw! Soft! Bad for fight.”

“Agreed there.” He yanked his wrist from her grasp and crossed his arms. “It’s not like I had an option. I’m the weak one, remember?”

Monica poked him harder this time, slamming him against the box. “Rick strong.” She proclaimed with unshakeable certainty, now definitely annoyed and not just pissed and bull-headed about the subject.

He was stumped how to respond. What could anyone tell to that determination? He quickly recoiled from the wooden wall as the occupant within the coffin snarled and hammered against the door, reaching out through the hole. The pole kept it shut, but it rattled ominously as the maiden within fought to break free. It took one glare and a snarl from Monica for the entire area to go dead silent.

Rick grimaced. “Look, I don’t know what you mean, I’m-”

“No.” She cut him, reaching out to the box and removing the bar that kept it blocked with surprising deftness. “Rick doubt? Monica show.”

Yanking the door open, the feral within froze as soon as she came face to face with the Sabretooth’s snarling face. But Monica didn’t bother to wait, reaching inside and pulling the maiden out by the rags of a shirt. The feral shrieked and struggled, snarling and lashing out.

It was a Hound, no doubt about it. Black hair and sharp ears, the canine was frothing at the mouth, eyes wild, scared, angry, hungry, all in equal measure. A wave of apprehension washed over Rick at an annoyed Monica, unsure what she was planning to do.

"Everyone say 'Rick weak'." She growled, grasping the back of the Hound's head and raising her into the air. "Rick. Not. Weak."

With a snap, she shoved the feral's face against the biceps on her other arm, locking gaze with Rick as she did so.

The feral complained, whined, and after a moment of hesitation, bit down. The feral's goal might have been to startle Monica or to scare her into letting go, but the feline didn't flinch, jaw tightening as she didn't budge. Her deep blue eyes remained locked with his.

“What are you doing!?”

“Show,” she replied, wincing as the feral’s fangs sank into her tanned skin. The feral was using her free hands to claw at Monica’s chest, arm, and neck. But the angle was awkward, and the grip was not letting up. Pain flashed across the Sabretooth’s blue eyes, but it was quelled under the determination.

The Hound’s claws were finding purchase, digging into her flesh and tearing off strips at a time.

“Monica stop this!” He did not step closer else risk being within range of the feral. His mind was racing.

What was her angle here!? What sort of crazy stunt was she looking to pull off!?

“No.” Her jaw tightened, ignoring the attempts to break free from the feral as she thrashed and clawed and bit. Monica was not moving an inch, staring him down. “Rick stop it. Roar.”

Roar? Roar!?

“You’re hurting yourself just to get me to shout at that feral!?”

“No shout. Roar.” Her voice strained. “Monica know Rick strong.”

She wanted… He glared from her to the feral, and then back. Was she really putting herself at risk just to prove some sort of point!? He glared at the obstinate Sabertooth, glaring daggers. "Stop this, right now."

Monica snorted as the Hound hadn’t even twitched. “Again.” She chided him, apparently entirely unconcerned about the blood dripping down her arm and chest, or how the feral was becoming emboldened. Either the scent of blood or the fact that she was still alive, regardless, it was Monica who was losing strength.

It was clear her arm could get seriously damaged if she kept this up.

Was she seriously willing to get herself maimed just to prove a point!?

He grit his teeth, breathing in sharply. “Stop! Get that off of you.”

Nothing.

“Again.”

He should just walk out, let her handle her own problem. She'd likely give up and be angry at him for a few days, but that would be a better alternative than losing a limb! Her left arm was becoming slack even as the right one kept the pressure. The bites were pushing through, and the Hound was making way against the Sabretooth’s biceps. Rick’s marvel at how tough Monica could make herself was superseded by the knowledge that there was an artery not that far off from where the canine was gnashing.

The ferals all around them were growing agitated.

This was going too far.

“Stop!”

“Again! Roar Rick! Strong!”

Snarling, he reached into himself, as deep as he could go, laying the fight with Eva against his thoughts like a red hot poker against his chest. He held onto it, gritting his teeth as his ribs felt ready to burst.

“Enough!”

It wasn’t louder, not even a scream. But there was something else to it, a feeling of… something that coursed through him and out. Like that night. And it rushed through him, emboldening, empowering.

The Hound froze in place.

It was like he'd stomped to the front of the classroom and slapped a ruler against the chalkboard. There was true exertion, no metaphysical force. But it startled everyone into silence. It demanded attention.

Monica sighed, giving a slight nod. “Good, but Rick do better. Monica knows.” She had the same tone he used when teaching her unfamiliar words she was struggling to pronounce.

Though there was no shortage of smugness.

“You’re a very dumb teacher.” He glared at her. “Take that damn dog off of you this instant.”

“Rick say if dumb but work. Not dumb.” Monica reproached, pulling the Hound away from her now limp and bleeding left arm, holding the canine by the throat up in the air. The canine’s efforts to break free became more frantic, face and claws drenched in blood as she thrashed. “Kill?”

“NO!”

It had been Yasir who’d spoken, reminding the couple that they’d brought company. Rick turned to glance at them, the duo appeared entirely uncertain on whether to be focused on him or the Hound or Monica. But Yasir's face was determined, if slightly panicked. “Her name is Eli, she was a…” He grimaced. “Fortune doesn’t smile on my memory. I do not remember the word. Her profession was of catching ferals in Sinco.”

“A Hunter?” Rick glanced at the Hound that was currently pinned against the wall of wood.

“Exactly!” He nodded.

Rick glanced at Yasir, then at Ahina, who was nodding slowly while observing them with a lot of precaution. Hers was the body-language of someone exhausted beyond measure, yet still willing to throw herself in harm’s way to protect the man currently holding her against his chest. Her dark gaze kept bouncing between Monica and the feral Hound.

The thought occurred to him to bond the Hound, to learn the method Yasir had used. Rick was familiar with the kingdom’s way of awakening ferals from having watched them work their trade, but he himself had very little experience. Monica had been the first feral he’d “awakened”, and the local Succubus had been quite eager to test the method out when breaking the feral curse with Eva.

He had doubts the kingdom's way would be useful for using on a large group of maidens, however. Why would it? The goal wasn't to awaken them quickly; it was to ensure it was done in a controlled and safe way.

But it was not the right time. As much as he respected the Hunters for their work, awakening the Hound now might prove more of a complication than an advantage. Doubly so when he'd need to reveal his ability to form a bond without a collar. Besides that, there was the current plan. He needed an update from Kiara and Eva, and he needed to turn the tables on the tribe.

Still, better be sure.

“Did either of you know her well?”

Yasir and Ahina shared a look, then shook their heads.

“And about the local Lord?”

This time, Yasir grimaced. “The less it is said of that man, the better.”

“I have many things I would say of that wicked piece of excrement.” Ahina snarled. “Not even the gold-hoarding Mimicas are as greedy as he.”

“Ahani!” Yasir chided.

"It is true and you know so." The maiden replied bitterly. "How many bribes did we need to pay just to be granted the right to buy a house?"

“I think I’ve heard enough.” Rick nodded, now sure he couldn’t take the risk. For all he knew, the Hunter might be aligned with the noble, and the situation was delicate. “Monica, put her back in the box.” If, when, and how these ferals were to be awakened, it would be when things were more firmly under control. But best stick to one thing at a time and remove unknown variables. “Yasir, and miss Ahani, as much as it pains me to say, the tribe isn't safe. Even with Monica in control, the previous chief holds too much sway.”

Yasir and the Spinner shared a look.

“I want to help Sinco.” Rick continued. “I’m aware your children are still in the city?” That caught their attention. The two tensed and nodded with grim determination. “To do that, I need to take away power from Urtha. I suspect she is merely allowing Monica to hold the position out of convenience.”

Monica shrugged at the claim. “Monica not like dumb talks.”

And the Orc was taking advantage of the Sabretooth’s nature of not caring about the bigger picture.

“What must be done?” Ahina asked, trying to pry herself from Yasir’s arms but failing.

“Monica? Could you find me some food and medicine?” He glanced at his partner. “But with no one seeing you. Sneak.”

The feline looked at Ahina through narrowed eyes. “Hurt Rick, Monica hurt you.” She proclaimed, turning to leave and vanishing into the shadows.

With a shrug, Rick looked back at them. “The one whose help I need is Yasir’s.”

The spider woman glared, wrapping her arms around the man. “I will not let you put him in danger.”

“My Ahina…”

“No,” the maiden declared. “We lost each other once. I cannot let it happen again.”

“He does not need to do anything he hasn’t already been doing since his capture.” Rick glanced at Asir. “You need to make the potato tea we’ve been preparing for.”

The man stiffened at that, then nodded slowly. “Are you certain? Once they realize the nature of the threat…”

“I am sure. We should take some of it as well, to dispel suspicions.” He replied, glancing at Ahina again. “You, in the meantime, need to hide somewhere. I cannot guarantee Urtha won’t attempt something.”

“And my husband is to stand next to the raging fire, then?” She asked, poison in her eyes.

Yasir put a hand on her head, pulling her into his shoulder. He spoke in a tongue that Rick couldn’t recognize, full of words that sizzled, a sound not much unlike running sand. Ahina responded in kind, the concern in her tone thick. Back and forth they went for several minutes, Yasir appeasing his wife until she deflated.

“It must be done, for Zuzu and Nabil.”

And just like that, it was over. Ahina looked at Rick once more, curling her lips, but bowing her head. “I will assist in whatever way might be needed.”

“I don’t want a fight to break out. I’d say your best bet would be to remain on the outskirts of the camp until things are under control. You need to recover your strength.” Rick spoke, watching Monica emerge from the shadows, holding a series of items against her chest. Most of them were pieces of dried meat, bread, and a waterskin. “Thank you.”

“This Monica stash.” She declared solemnly, handing most of it over, save some of the boar meat which she snacked on. “Ahina owe Monica.”

“Stash?”

Rick’s question made the Sabretooth tense and look away, eating the boar meat faster, gobbling the whole thing up in three bites. The maiden glanced at him, sticking her tongue out. "Monica food. Not for Rick."

The silence stretched out, Ahina coughed. “We… we owe a great deal to you.” She bowed her head lower. “Excuse my earlier outburst.”

Her gaze moved from Rick to Monica, then down at the food. The arachnid maiden did not hesitate to dig in. The food was gone in quick order, but Ahina took pause when opening the waterskin and catching a whiff of the content's scent. “Polita nectar?” Yasir and Ahina’s noses wrinkled.

“It sweet!” Monica declared with a grin. “Good for health.”

“Yes, but…”

“Is there something wrong with it?” Rick asked. By the looks of it, it was the same drink that’d been in his room.

“No! Nothing.” Ahina quickly lifted the skin and began to gulp it all down, making a face before turning away, slightly paler. “I… will hide, then.”

“Dear.” Yasir patted the maiden’s shoulder gently. “You will not go around naked.”

Ahina sighed, giving him a tired look. “I will make myself something once I have cleaned the filth. My stench is too strong. Doggirls are sure to know of me from the other side of the Golden Sands.”

“I think that’s that.” Rick glanced at Yasir. “I expect things will start getting rowdy come nightfall. Be sure to find somewhere to hide when it does.” He turned to Monica. Time for the next item on the list. “Go get yourself healed. And no hurting Eva.”

The feline shrugged, completely ignoring her still injured arm. Rick noted the bleeding had slowed down, clotting quickly.

“If Rick fight Eva and win, Monica no kill Eva.”

“Today's been too hectic and it's barely begun.” Rick just shook his head. “Gonna go meet Kiara, I feel she might have some answers about Urtha and her faction.”

“The Succubus?” Yasir frowned. “She is kept at the edge of the camp along with the other prisoners deemed too dangerous to be allowed free movement.”

That did not bode well, Rick glanced at Monica again. “You let Dia lock Kiara up?”

The feline nodded. “Kiara no share Rick, bad Kiara. Monica and Dia punish.”

"Shit. Better get to that, then."