A rocking motion.

Back and forth, swaying.

Warmth and softness pressed against one side.

Yet, I felt cold. So very cold. My arm itched–my left one. It felt strange, unresponsive, then too responsive. Unrestrained. As though a weight had been removed.

No… no.

As I awoke, slowly, groggily, I remembered.

No matter how I denied the memory, it was there. I tried diving back into blissful unconsciousness. This would best be forgotten.

No. no…

Denial would do no good. It had happened. I needed to take stock, make a plan. Hard facts. They needed considering. I needed to move on. The same as when I awoke in a strange body. Just now, I was awakening in a strange body sans another part.

What was one more non-consensual bodily modification?

The fact I was awakening at all should be surprising. I had been losing a lot of blood last I remembered. I had been at the mercy of a feral Kate Guardson.

Obviously, something had happened to my benefit.

I cracked my eyes open. Groggily. Already, I was having second thoughts about it. But I needed to know, to confirm, to understand at who’s mercy I now found myself at. So, with great reluctance, with some trepidation, and with almost no desire, I opened my eyes.

I found the source of warmth.

It took me a second to put it together. The pressure on my upper back, the backside of my hips, the sag of my rear, the sway. I was looking up at Kate, at the side of her chest, at her neck, then the bottom of her chin. I was getting carried, bridal style. Why was she carrying me? I presumed she was no longer feral. Had she been cured? Or had the effect worn off. Or, was it something else altogether, perhaps collusion between her and Charson?

My hed ached.

A distraction. I needed to take stock. Other than the fact that Kate currently held me, the way she held me made little difference. Logically, I knew that as true. And yet, I found myself coming back to it, again and again.

Her stomach, even through her tabard and gambeson, was firm and lithe. Her chest, not so ample to obstruct my view of her face. Her chin, glorious. Though while it was night out, I could still see enough of her figure. Thankfully, this body had come with effective dark-vision.

Strangely, I noticed that I heard two sets of footsteps, and the clinking of gear.

Who else was there? Who else was I sharing this moment with?

No. I was distracted. I needed to focus. But my head felt light, and my arm felt lighter. I glanced down at my elbow. Something was missing. My arm. I groaned. Why had I bothered?

“Yeah… you kinda lost a ton of blood,” Kate said, glancing down upon me. “You should rest.”

I nodded. That was sensible. I would deal with it all later… I was tired. I could just drift–drift off. Yes, I should rest.

But a part of me rallied, demanded those hard facts. I found myself speaking without intending to do so.

“What happened?” I asked. I pointedly did not glance at her hips, where a blade and several scabbards hung.

Instead, I looked once more at the stump of my left arm. The jagged sleeve where the sword had cut, the strange silver sheen where I expected bone and grisly sinew.

The silver sheen through me for a loop. “Wha–?” I began, but trailed off. The second person, walking besides Kate, made themselves known.

“Kitten deserves an explanation,” Larissen’s voice came from somewhere, behind us.

“Silence, beast,” Kate said, with mild aggression carried along in her voice. “This is your godsloving fault!”

He scoffed, “Who cut who?”

“Not for your lack of trying,” she said. “If you coulda, you woulda.”

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“What. Happened?” I repeated, after clearing my throat a bit, a bit more firmly. “My arm.” I clarified. I could see, well not see, hear, that Larissen had survived and was close. And we were headed somewhere, presumably back to Muleater and the others. What I needed to understand was what happened to my arm that made it almost glow in a silver light where it had been severed.

“It’s gone,” Kate said plainly. “You would have died before I found you, but your Mark sealed the wound.”

When she found me? I almost scoffed in manic derision. She was there when my arm was cut off! But perhaps she did not remember. And alienating her now would fail to serve any purpose. Though perhaps I could use the guilt, if she felt it, which I believed she did, or would. I scolded myself internally for already forming machinations. I needed details. I needed to understand. The term ‘sealed’ had also been used in conjunction with the slave collars. That was concerning. I needed to ask.

“What does that mean?” I asked, then waited nervously in anticipation for the worst news possible.

“I–” Kate looked like she was about to say something, then shook her head slightly before saying something else. “We’d need to get you to an expert to find out exactly. But at the very least, your Mark there won’t grow any further. You’ll be lucky if you keep your past gains.”

It took a while to sink in, but when it did, I decided that it could be much, much worse.

“What happened after I–” I trailed off, looking down at my stump, at the useless bit of arm attached to the elbow, at the not quite glowing silver surface.

“It… it was bad,” Kate said as she gazed outwards, breaking eye contact, conveying unconfessed shame. Which, truthfully, she should be feeling. The bitc–mothersworn–whor–girl–had cut my arm off! Unaware of my inner turmoil, or perhaps aware and ignoring it, she continued. “What Charson did… I think he released an unlawful alchemic, but we’re out in the wastes so it might not be unlawful. But… still…”

Did she not remember? She and Larissen had bantered, so she must have at least put it together, and that was if she failed to remember cutting my arm off! Was she feeling guilty? If so, good.

Now, how could I use this?

No. I needed answers. I revised my question.

“And Larissen?”

“The cat?”

“Yes,” Larissen jumped in, “the Kaiva. This one. While dazed–this one had a–a collar–” he hissed in Kaiva “-placed around his neck.”

“Speak Imperial or stay silent,” Kate said boisterously, but it was like putting on pretenses. She was a young adult speaking up to a larger older male. It seemed ridiculous. I almost laughed. I schooled my reaction before she noticed, though Larissen might have heard a slight hitch to my breath.

“You collared him?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“But… why?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” she said.

“We had a deal,” I said. “No collars.”

“Cannot trust qavi,” Larissen spat in Kaivan, using one of the more derogatory terms for humans.

“I said–”

“We had. A. Deal. No collars.” It was getting harder to speak, the fatigue settling in, but the fact that she had collared Larissen the moment he was incompetent bode poorly for my own freedoms.

“It’s for his own safety. For your safety.”

How Kate could say that with a straight face, I could not fathom. Unless she truly believed that?

Regardless, it mattered not. “No collars,” I insisted. That had been the deal.

“Look. That was before that one–” she thumbed towards Larissen “-deserted, entrapped you, attacked you, attacked me. That deal doesn’t exactly apply to him anymore, don’t you think, yeah?”

“Mitigating circumstances,” I said. I wanted to drift back to sleep, but I could not stand it. Even if Larissen were scum (which he was not), and even if I hated him (which I did not), I still would not see him collared and leashed like some sort of pet. Not even Charson deserved that fate. “You attacked me and him too.”

“Mitigating circumstances,” she grumbled in reply.

“You mutilated my arm,” I finally said, despite my better judgment. “Should we collar you?”

“What?! No!” she scoffed as though the very suggestion was idiotic. “Why would you even suggest that?”

“We aren’t… aren’t animals…” I said, losing steam. I was growing increasingly dizzy. My eyelids, heavy.

“Folly to teach this to humans,” Larissen chided softly.

Kate growled and lashed out with the heel of her boot, kicking Larissen hard enough to send him stumbling to the side. He recovered after a few steps, but he walked with a slight limp from where her boot made contact on his hip. “I warned you! If you’re gonna speak, speak Imperial!” she then scolded me, me! “And I’d hate to alienate you further, but you can’t compare–”

“Do. Not.” I said as firmly as I could, despite the twisting spinning delirium. Focusing on the conversation was growing to be too difficult to bear.

“Don’t what?” she asked. “You’re smart. Gods, you’re Marked. So you’ve gotta be smarter than at least what’s common–” she failed to specify what baseline she was using for that comparison, but I had my suspicions it was not humans “-so you must have realized the truth by now.”

I felt like I had a lack of oxygenation. My arm ached, the arm I no longer had burned in phantom stings and hot needles, and a cold clammy sweat was slicking my skin. Feverish. Possibly shock. I was not in a good place to contest her. If the collar was still there in a few hours, on Larissen, then I could dispute it then. But currently, no. I was too injured, too weak.

But, I could not just give up so easily. I could not swallow this built in societal prejudice; especially not if I was ‘one of the good ones.’ Contempt for this society would never cause change. Focusing my last remnants of willpower, I croaked, “Not. Animals.”

Before the swaying of Kate’s gait turned and rolled me down into a colorful and unrestful sleep.