“I know you aren’t really considering staying here because you’re scared of that lady,” Archie said, stroking his facial hair. “She’s crazy, but maybe we could sneak out?”

Rontu shook his head. “And go where? She’s got the keys to the Gemmer and we have no clue where we are. We head in one direction and then what? Die in the desert?”

“We could perhaps fight her again,” Shen chimed in. “We know a little bit about what she is capable of. We just need to avoid the same trap from before.”

“Shen, I’m really flattered that you have that much confidence in me.”

“So we try it?”

“Not a chance in Hell.”

Shen pursed his lips, sighing and hanging his head into his lap. “I am not looking forward to what comes when they try to contact the Tao. They will not be happy.”

Archie sighed out in frustration. Somehow he had not one, but two Shutok who were absolutely useless. He couldn’t really blame them though, especially without having seen what actually went down in that ravine when they met Serratia.

“I almost wish they’d have just killed me at this point. Sitting in this tent and dying with an empty stomach ain’t the way I wanted to go out.”

Rontu and Shen both glanced at Archie with incredulous looks, then back to each other. Rontu raised an eyebrow before shaking his head.

In the brief pause in their conversation, voices could be heard. They seemed to be pretty jubilant, some loud whistles and happy laughs coming from outside of their cloth prison. It seemed like something happy was going on, like a celebration. Hoots and hollers could be heard as the scent of burning food filled the air. Archie looked sick as he smelled whatever was being roasted, his nose wrinkling up in disgust.

“Now that’s torture right there…” he muttered to himself.

Rontu rolled his eyes before the flap to the tent quietly opened, the movement catching his attention.

“Warden’s back. Don’t say anything stupid,” he whispered.

Archie covered his face with his bound hands. “Says you of all people…”

Serratia’s arm appeared first, holding open the entrance as wide as she could as she dragged in what seemed to be a large box. She handled it carefully before bending down and pulling it with both hands to the edge of the tent. She didn’t even acknowledge the others inside before she hastily flicked open the latches and gently pulled the lid open. Rontu watched her carefully, spying on her through a crack next to Archie’s broad shoulders.

The woman knelt down, reaching into the deep crate and gently grasping something. She seemed to be whispering something inaudible to Rontu, tossing aside two burlap sacks into the dirt. Carefully, she reached inside once more and began pulling something up. Rontu’s breath caught in his throat as a head of long brown hair came into view, messy and tangled. A dazed-looking woman slumped against the side of the box, almost deliriously looking around the tent. Her eyes seemed glazed over, her skin covered in light bruises and abrasions.

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Rontu had heard the various rumors from travelers coming in and out of Lowlam. How lawless the Barrens really could be. People often went missing out here, and most of them were never found. It was easy to dismiss such things as dramatic or fear-mongering, but the twisting knife in his belly at witnessing the very grim reality made him regret ever disregarding it.

“I’ve got you. It’s okay. It’s okay,” Serratia told the woman, the phrase repeated several times as she propped up another malnourished woman next to her, this one with cropped blonde hair. She steadied the women against each other, leaning forward and checking them for injuries with a sense of care that Rontu never expected out of her.

Serratia stood up, looking around the tent for something before she walked into the opposite corner and flung open a box of miscellaneous supplies, rummaging through it with a sense of urgency. Bringing back a blanket, she tucked it into the corners of the crate and covered both of the new prisoners. A good idea, Rontu thought. He had already heard Archie’s teeth chattering from the desert cold the previous night.

“What’s your name?” Serratia asked the blonde in a gentle tone, her knuckles white as they gripped the edge of the crate. The blonde woman made a quiet noise, her chapped lips barely moving as she tried to form words. Serratia leaned forward and tilted her head so she could hear her better, brushing aside the hair over her ear. Rontu did his best to listen as well, quietly leaning forward enough that his chin was practically resting on Archie’s shoulder.

“Erie…” the woman dryly croaked, coughing a bit. “She’s Cara…”

Things were silent for a moment as Rontu watched, completely focused on the battered woman before him. Eventually, though, the creeping silence caused his attention to turn back to Serratia.

She was looking right at him.

She quickly stood up, walking over with her fists clenched. She stepped over the small barricade and immediately knelt down to face him. Her expression could have subdued the bravest men into whimpering dogs, her eyes like two smoldering coals as she looked into rontu’s very soul. She roughly grabbed him by the collar of her shirt, yanking him within inches of her face.

“Don’t get any funny ideas. Not even a single thought. I don’t care what scheme they have cooked up for you, I will-”

“So you’ve got a plan then?” Rontu cut her off.

This stunned her momentarily, Serratia breaking the fierce eye contact with a sudden blink. Then another. After a few seconds, she seemed to regain her mental footing, throwing Rontu back and standing up.

“Mind your own business and leave both me, and them alone. Especially them,” She warned, beginning to walk away to check back on the two slaves.

Shen seemed to catch on to what Rontu was getting at though, clearing his throat. “I am sure whatever it is you plan on doing can only be helped with the addition of two more Shutok.”

Serratia froze, quickly turning around to look at the trio. She had a slew of words prepared to throw back at them, a diatribe against their very characters and the seeming act of self-preservation. The very thought of trying to bargain their freedom using the lives of the two women made her feel venomous, ready to lash out at them without restraint.

It wasn’t what they meant though, and the moment Serratia looked at the serious expressions on their faces she knew that she was misguided. They may have been pushovers when it came to fighting. They might have been a little cheeky and self-righteous even, but Serratia remembered the night she brought them here. The scorn in Rontu’s voice when his friend was threatened. The complete disregard for his own safety as he attacked Horn. Even if he didn’t know it, Rontu had made good on his promise to the deceased bandit leader.

Serratia cast a glance to the women she had brought, immense feelings of guilt and hatred for herself deep within her gut. Her skin rippled for a moment, the bright colors of her armor erupting from within as she knelt down and summoned a small knife with a flick of her wrist. She grabbed Rontu by the wrists, her visor looking him in the eyes as she effortlessly split the rope around his hands.

“If you try anything-”

“I know.”