Pait didn’t know if she preferred this part of camp, or hated it. It was the older part, Daivad had explained, the first buildings they’d constructed in these trees, so it was less busy than the center of the village. There were a few houses here—Daivad’s, Ben’s, Tobei’s, and a few others, like the one whose front steps Pait sat on now. During the day, this part of the village was empty, and Pait could sit here and count out half an hour without seeing any of the marked strangers that packed the landings in the center of camp.

But it was those quiet half hours when that dizzying feeling of being utterly alone truly set in.

She didn’t know how much longer she could sit here waiting before she had to get up and just…

Footsteps drew her attention, making Pait look up. It was Lenna, the tall, gorgeous, firehead of a woman who wore the most amazingly tailored men’s clothes and was, Pait was almost certain, absolutely batshit. She had papers clutched to the chest of her tight button-down shirt and a vacant look in her eye, and nearly stepped on Pait with a heeled, knee-high leather boot as she started trying to climb the steps to her home.

It wasn’t until Pait said, “Uh,” that Lenna started and realized she was there.

Lenna blinked at her, her brows pulling together. What little color was left in her face drained away, and she looked over one shoulder, then the other before facing Pait and saying, “Are you...?”

“Sorry.” Pait stood. “Daivad said you had his notes here. Notes on those metal machines—the lifts and stuff.”

Lenna blinked some more. “I just left the meeting—if he wanted the notes why not ask me—?”

“I’m the one who wants them,” Pait said.

Another blink. “Why?”

Pait shrugged her thin shoulders, very aware of the ratty sleeveless shirt that hung off them and how different it was from the crisp, cared-for, stylish clothes Lenna wore. “These machines are the first I’ve seen—I wanted to learn more. See how they … fit together.”

Lenna considered her, and Pait tried to hide within her cloak—but then she remembered her cloak was even rattier than the shirt. “Daivad gave permission?”

“Yeah.”

Lenna waved Pait aside, then started up the steps. She walked through her front door and was halfway across the main room before she realized Pait hadn’t followed, and waved again, this time beckoning Pait.

She’d cleaned up the room since yesterday, when Pait had witnessed whatever episode Lenna was having. It was a simple but nice room with some painted white cabinets and counters, a little table and a couple of chairs, a fireplace and stuffed red couch—a kind of kitchen-dining-living room combo. Lenna went through another door straight ahead, but called back to Pait,

“Stay there.”

Pait flopped down on the surprisingly cushy, shockingly velvet couch and traced patterns in the velvet until Lenna returned with a box in her arms, full of papers that looked to be bound by hand.

She stopped in front of Pait and stared down at her before saying in a hard tone, “Did you tell him?”

“That I’d come fetch the notes?”

“What you saw,” she said. Her mouth turned in on itself, chin wrinkling. “Yesterday.”

Oh. Pait said, “No.”

“Why not?”

She shrugged again. “I told you. It’s not business I’d name Mine. Or His.”

Pait was startled to see tears glistening in Lenna’s eyes, but she quickly blinked them away and dropped the box next to Pait on the couch.

Her tone back to normal, she said, “It’d be easier to pull Daivad’s teeth than get him to remake these if they get lost or damaged, so they don’t leave my house, but you can read them here. I had to read them when I bound them, so if you have questions, I might be able to fill them—but not as well as he would.”

Eagerly, Pait pulled the first book of notes onto her lap.

~*~*~

“Pait.”

She jumped, but tried to pretend she hadn’t. She’d been so absorbed in these mind-twisting notes, schematics, and confusing asides about magic that she certainly didn’t practice that she hadn’t heard Daivad clomp up the steps on the other side of Lenna’s front door. Lenna had left some time ago—but not before locking the door to the room she’d fetched these notes from. She must not have known about Pait’s previous profession if she thought a simple door lock like that would give Pait much pause.

She replaced the notes in the box and stood—immediately noticing the crick in her neck that had developed while hunched over the notes. Massaging her neck, she opened the front door to see Daivad, standing there in those same mangled boots. He gestured for her to follow him, then clomped off without waiting to see if she did.

“What?” She shut the door and jogged after him, more pleased than she wanted to admit that he’d come looking for her. That he thought she was worth looking for.

“Calling all the new members of camp together.”

He started down the stairs that spiraled around this tree and Pait grabbed the shuddering railing to steady herself as she followed. “Why?”

“Assessment,” was all he said.

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

“The fuck does that mean?” Assessment? Was she about to be put through some test in front of the whole camp?

“Everyone needs a job.”

“Oh, sure,” she grumbled. “I see your meaning clear as day now.”

He didn’t bother to acknowledge her sarcasm.

The sight of these “new members” gathered together in a clearing on the forest floor made Pait’s belly flip. Though Daivad strode into the clearing without pause, Pait froze halfway behind a tree.

Had they not been standing, moving, Pait would have thought them corpses. She was no stranger to worn and wrinkled skin, to starving bodies with gaunt features, but something about these people was different. Maybe it was the look in their eyes, those that had both, or the fact that many of them were missing fingers, toes, or even part of their arm. Maybe it was the way they held themselves.

The letters DUX marked each and every one.

At the sight of Daivad, they all snapped to attention and began to bow.

“Enough,” he said, waving a hand. He stopped before them and only then realized that Pait was still hiding at the edge of the clearing. “Come on, Pait.”

She couldn’t.

These people… Is this how he saw her? Someone whose life was now defined by three letters tattooed on their skin? Was she one of them now? A person who had forgotten how to be a person?

The whole clearing was staring at her now. She could hear everyone breathing, feel them sucking all the air out of the atmosphere until there was none left for her. She needed to get out of here. To find somewhere with air. But her stolen boots were glued to the forest floor. Her arms stayed clamped around her middle. Was it this feeling that made these people carry themselves so differently? Did they still feel the weight of chains that were no longer there?

“Pardon, sir,” someone was saying. “May I?”

Pait could feel her lungs working, but the air—it was this damp fucking air. All the moisture in it left it unbreathable.

“You name yourself Pait?” asked a warm, if worn, voice.

Pait made herself focus on the person before her, but couldn’t yet respond. They were no taller than her, with huge blue eyes, a big smile, and a thousand lines on their face.

“Name me Edgar. Me and my folks are fresh to this forest, too.” Edgar shuffled over to stand beside Pait and look out at the clearing. In a low voice, he continued, “If I weigh my words honest, we’re overwhelmed. Scared.”

Edgar let that hang for a moment while Daivad began to address the others, sending the occasional glance back at them over his shoulder.

“Duxon was our home and hell in equal measure, but it was our home. I knew every stone inside those walls personally—and there were more stones there than people in Lushale. No trees, though, and now,” he gestured at the bark-covered giant Pait was still half hiding behind, “we’re surrounded by these things. Living in them! It’s wonderful … and it’s terrifying.”

Edgar fell silent, and they both watched Daivad for a while. Pait’s brain seemed to have stopped, which was concerning, but she had to say she preferred that to the panic it had been in a minute before. She realized, suddenly, that she could breathe again.

“Why,” she started jerkily, speaking with no real thought behind her words, “are you gifting me these words?”

Edgar’s mouth pulled to one side as he chose his response, deepening the lines on the right side of his face. “Everyone here—human, Inhuman, marked or not, young or old … hell, I think even the Wolves, maybe—we’re all just people. We’re all scared, and angry, and lonely. And more.”

“This is, what, a pep talk?” Pait asked, gruff.

Edgar chuckled. “If so, wasn’t very peppy, was it? Come on, let’s join the others.”

~*~*~

Daivad obviously wasn’t one for long speeches. By the time Pait and Edgar had joined the others, he was already wrapping up.

“Building houses and finding food tops the camp’s priorities right now—regular work around camp will wait until everyone has a roof, a bed, and a full belly. Any able bodies will be assigned either to construction or to forage, and the rest will be assessed and assigned by our healers. Once camp settles, we’ll hold combat training here again. The clearing is offered to any skill level—will any of you accept?”

Pait watched the hands go up. Every single one. Except her own.

Nothing showed on Daivad’s face, but his long pause made it clear he hadn’t expected this response. Serious, he said, “This training won’t be easy or necessary. Camp is well-hidden and well-guarded. It’s safe. And training won’t replace regular duties, but pile on top of them. If you commit, then you commit.”

The hands stayed raised.

It didn’t make sense. These people were broken. Half dead. All of them scared, just like Edgar had said. Why did they want to put themselves through more physical abuse when, for the first time in years, they had the chance for a bit of rest?

Daivad’s icy eyes scanned the mangled crowd of volunteers before falling on Pait, standing there, her arms carefully hidden within her cloak. She waited for him to call her out, but he simply grunted, “Fine,” and the hands lowered once again.

“You’ll all be examined by the healers, then, as soon as the infirmary has a chance to breathe,” Daivad said. “Edgar, you can name those fit enough to forage?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then take the rest to the infirmary. I’ll send a guard to guide you through the forest, and…”

Pait looked closely at the people around her as this “assessment” wrapped up. Many of them shook just standing here, and Edgar had told the truth, it was clear they were scared. So why?

Daivad dismissed them, and those with DUX on their arms shuffled after Edgar toward the infirmary, leaving Pait behind. She watched them go, aware that Daivad had stopped just behind her.

When the clearing was empty of all but the two of them, Daivad said, “Thought you’d want to train too.”

She looked up at him, trying to figure out what the hell that meant. But she found no answer in his plain expression. “Why?”

“I meant what I said in that alley in Luvatha.” And then he started back toward camp.

She trotted after him. “What, ‘Give my pebble back’?”

“When I said you were doing fine on your own. You’re already a blade, just sharpen your edges and you could be deadly.” He gave her a once-over. “A short blade, but still.”

Pait sputtered, “Well … better a short blade than a … giant … ogre!”

“Good one.”

“Fuck you.”

“Why don’t you want to train?” he asked.

She was still a little flustered, so it took her a moment to come up with, “That’s business I wouldn’t name Yours.”

“Hm.” And that was it.

They’d made it back to the nearest ladder that led up into the village when Pait blurted, “Why would they want combat training? That old guy, Edgar. He named ‘em Scared. Himself too. And you saw them—beaten and broken. What, they been living rough for so long they like it now?”

The look he sent her was sharp, but his words weren’t. “Not everyone’s so good at running as you. Some would rather fight, if they have to. Besides, you forgot what else Edgar named them.”

“What else…?”

“Angry.”