Jenny stood by the edge of the tent, watching as the gang sorted through the supplies Drennavar had provided. Most of it was practical—bandages, bits of salvaged armor, and a few scattered mechanical parts that looked vaguely like tools—but some of it was outright baffling. Chan, in particular, seemed delighted with a bundle of scrap that Jenny could only describe as junk.
“What is all that even for?” she asked, unable to hide her skepticism.
Chan caught her look and smirked, holding up what looked like a rusted hinge connected to a bit of tubing. “You’ll see,” he said with a wink before tucking the mess into his satchel.
Laura, meanwhile, was handing Drennavar a list of assurances. “You know I’m good for it,” she said firmly. “This was a one-off. I’ll bring the rest next time.”
Drennavar nodded, his expression unreadable but clearly satisfied. “You always do, Laura.”
Reed appeared behind Jenny, his hands already full of fresh rolls of bandages. He muttered something inaudible to himself as he packed them neatly into his bag. Jenny’s gaze flicked toward him, then to the bandages, her expression tightening just slightly.
She didn’t say anything, but her eyes lingered. The careful way he placed them among his gear told her everything she needed to know. The bandages weren’t for emergencies or for anyone else—they were for her. For her stump, still healing five days after the crude surgery that had saved her life.
Jenny’s hand brushed absently at the edge of her sleeve, feeling the roughness of the bandages beneath. The faintest crease of discomfort crossed her face, but she didn’t look away. Reed, for his part, didn’t acknowledge her stare, busying himself with his pack as though nothing had passed between them.
Drennavar’s dark gaze shifted to her then, lingering on her shoulder. His expression didn’t change, but there was a heaviness in his eyes, as if he were weighing something about her. Jenny straightened instinctively, trying not to fidget under the scrutiny.
Laura snapped her pack shut, breaking the moment. “Everyone carries their share,” she said, her tone leaving no room for debate as she shoved a bundle of supplies toward Jenny.
Jenny frowned but took it without argument, strapping the smaller pack onto her own gear. Her legs were still stiff from riding Ember, and the added weight didn’t help. Laura smirked faintly, clearly satisfied with her compliance.
The gang began filing out of the tent, their movements purposeful as they prepared to leave the Burgh behind. Drennavar raised a hand, gesturing for Jenny to stay.
“Jenny,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “A word.”
Reed stopped in his tracks, his grin fading. He turned back toward the tent flap, his shoulders tensing. “What for?”
Drennavar’s expression didn’t shift, but the subtle lift of his chin and the steady weight of his gaze silenced any further questions. Reed hesitated, clearly torn, but after a moment he stepped aside, following Laura and Chan out into the marketplace.
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The din of the Burgh greeted Reed as he stepped outside, the sounds of haggling and chatter filling the air. Laura and Chan were already walking toward where Ember was tied, the weight of their packs making their strides more deliberate.
Reed lingered near the entrance to the tent, half-watching them while keeping one eye on the flap. He didn’t like leaving Jenny alone with Drennavar, but there wasn’t much he could do. The older man’s calm authority made arguing pointless.
Movement caught his attention, pulling his gaze across the market. The twin albino women were back, circling a flamboyant merchant wearing an oversized pirate hat. One twin had already perched the hat on her own head, tilting it jauntily as her sister worked on unbuttoning the man’s shirt.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
Reed smirked faintly as they led their target toward a side tent, their movements synchronized and practiced. By the time they slipped inside, one twin was wearing the hat, and the other was holding the man’s shirt with an almost theatrical flourish.
“Poor bastard,” Reed muttered to himself, his smirk deepening as he leaned back against a post. His thoughts flicked briefly to his earlier encounter with the twins, but the tension in his chest at leaving Jenny behind pulled him back to the present.
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Jenny stood stiffly near the center of the tent, her pack still slung over her shoulder. Drennavar watched her with that unnervingly calm expression, his dark eyes giving away nothing. The noise of the market outside faded as the silence between them stretched.
“What’s your story?” he asked finally, his voice smooth but carrying a weight that made it clear he expected an answer.
Jenny straightened, forcing her breathing to stay steady. She’d rehearsed this part of the lie enough times to make it sound natural. “I’m on a mission,” she said, her tone measured but firm. “I was sent by my people to re-establish communication with Bunker 4.”
Drennavar tilted his head slightly, studying her. He didn’t speak right away, letting the silence do the work of unsettling her.
Jenny shifted under his gaze, her fingers tightening on the strap of her bag. “It’s a scouting mission,” she added quickly. “Not an expedition. Just me.”
“Hmm,” he said, the faintest hint of amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Alone? That seems... bold.”
Jenny bristled. “I can handle myself,” she snapped, her tone sharper than she intended. She took a small breath, forcing herself to soften it. “I was top of my class. First in marksmanship. First in survival drills. I’ve more than proven to my people that I can manage.”
She lifted her chin, her voice rising slightly as if daring him to challenge her. “Besides, we’d be fools to send out an entire team topside. That’s asking for trouble. A scout is smarter, and that’s what I was trained for.”
Her left hand moved instinctively to her right shoulder, her fingers brushing the empty space where her arm used to be. “And this,” she said, her voice hardening, “hasn’t stopped me yet.”
Drennavar’s expression didn’t shift much, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—amusement, perhaps, or curiosity. Not quite a smile, but close. “Fiery,” he said, almost to himself.
Jenny squared her shoulders, meeting his gaze head-on. “You wanted my story. That’s it.”
“Hmm,” he said again, the sound thoughtful. He leaned slightly against the table behind him, his posture relaxed but deliberate. “Whatever your reasons are for keeping the truth to yourself,” he said, his voice calm but carrying a quiet intensity, “if it leads to me losing my most successful scavenging team...” He tilted his head slightly, his dark eyes locked on hers. “I will hunt you down and finish whatever those cannibals hadn’t.”
The way he said it wasn’t overtly threatening—his tone was almost casual, his lips just barely curved into a half-smile—but something about the way he delivered the words made Jenny’s stomach twist. It wasn’t fear, exactly, but the uncanny certainty that he meant every syllable.
Jenny’s expression hardened. “You’ll get your payday,” she said, her voice steady despite the unease creeping through her. Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and strode out of the tent.
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Jenny pushed through the tent flap, her boots hitting the ground hard as she strode into the chaos of the market. Reed, leaning casually against a nearby post, jumped slightly at her sudden exit. His brow furrowed as he straightened, falling into step beside her.
“What’s the deal with that guy?” Jenny asked, her voice clipped as she kept walking, her gaze fixed straight ahead.
Reed glanced back at the tent, then shrugged, his tone light but laced with something deeper. “Drennavar? Well, he’s the closest thing I’ve had to a dad. Closest any of us have had, really.”
Jenny’s stride faltered just slightly, but she didn’t look at him. Reed stuffed his hands into his pockets, his eyes flicking to her for a reaction before continuing.
“When we were kids, each one of us—Laura, Denzel, Chan, me—tried to steal something from him at some point. Every time, he caught us. I thought for sure he’d kill me when I got caught.” He chuckled faintly. “But he didn’t. He fed me, gave me a bed for the night. After a while, he started training us. Teaching us how to survive, how to trade, how to fight.”
He shook his head, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “He’s not the hugs and kisses type, but... he made me who I am. Made all of us who we are.”
Jenny remained silent, her expression unreadable. Reed studied her for a moment, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Anyhow—what did he want from you?”
Jenny’s voice was quiet, but firm. “Assurance.”
She didn’t elaborate, and Reed didn’t press. Whatever had happened in that tent, it wasn’t something she was ready to talk about. He let the silence settle between them, his curiosity lingering but unspoken as they made their way back to the gang.