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Chapter 3: Unshackled

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The camp reeked of sweat, blood, and damp wood, a stench that clung to Raven's skin as she stood motionless between the two guards that had retrieved her from the wooden post. Her body ached from the relentless blows of the Lycans, and her wrists were raw and bruised from the ropes that had bound her to the post. She was in desperate need of rest, proper rest, but that was continuing to look less and less likely.

She had been bought.

The words were ringing in her ears, filling her with dread. She felt oddly numb, the world around her felt blurry and unfocused. What was she going to do now? Who was it that had decided to claim her as their own property?

The answer to that question was revealed to her when the guards forced her into the tent. She was momentarily blinded, the interior of the tent illuminated by several oil lanterns, the brightness taking her a moment to adjust to. At the far wall of the tent was a large desk, the bookkeeper from before sitting behind it. Sitting across from her, his back to the tent's entrance, was the caracal from earlier, the one that had stopped the Lycans from beating her.

Her arrival didn't go unnoticed. The caracal turned to face her, regarding her with his golden eyes, or rather, golden eye. An eyepatch obscured his left eye, though it didn't do enough to hide what appeared to be burn scars that were scattered across the left side of his face. The feline gave off an imposing aura, completely different from that of her canine abductors. They were savage and unpredictable, more akin to rabid animals, whereas the caracal seemed more disciplined, more commanding of respect. Admittedly, he reminded her a bit of her father.

He even looked more refined and impressive than the Lycans around them, his dusty gray fur as sleek as the richest velvet, his resplendent clothing clean and obviously of high quality. Even the sword that hung from his waist looked more impressive than the ones wielded by the Lycans, the slender, slightly curved blade sheathed inside of a sleek scabbard of solid black lacquered wood.

The feline slowly rose to his feet and approached her, his movements fluid and graceful. His singular golden eye scanned her with a quiet intensity, but there was no malice in them, no hunger for dominance. Instead, Raven detected a strange softness behind his gaze, a curiosity that sent a ripple through the anxiety tightening her chest. He was appraising her, she knew it, but it felt different than when the Lycans bookkeeper had done it earlier.

“Release her," he commanded, his voice calm but leaving no room for refusal. Even his accent was more refined than that of the Lycans, more elegant and easier for her to understand. It was obvious that he wasn't a native speaker of her language, but he obviously had a better grasp of it than her captors did.

The Lycan guards hesitated, clearly none too pleased with being ordered around by a feline. A thought flickered in the very back of Raven's mind, a faint memory that felt as if it belonged to a completely different person from a completely different time; the Cait and Lycans had ever been bitter enemies. It wasn't until the Lycan bookkeeper gave a curt snarl that the guards obliged. Raven felt the bindings slacken and drop from her wrists, her arms falling limp at her sides. She couldn't bring herself to look at the caracal directly, though she felt his gaze lingering on her, studying her face, her wounds, the torn and tattered state of her clothing, and the blood that stained both her clothes and skin.

“You've been through quite the ordeal," said the caracal, his voice quieter now, almost soothing. “Come. You'll find that you are quite safe in my company."

Raven felt her legs tremble, threatening to collapse out from underneath her. She stumbled and would have fallen over if it hadn't been for the caracal stepping forward to catch her. The touch was gentle, yet firm, and Raven instinctively recoiled away from him, none too eager to let the feline touch her. The caracal didn't falter, however, unclasping her cloak before gently draping it around her shoulders.

“Come." He repeated, brushing past her and holding open the flap of the tent for her.

Raven wanted to speak, to spit venom at her would-be “owner", but exhaustion won over. She was far too exhausted to muster up anything more than a glare. Her feet moved before her mind could protest, each step carrying her further and further out of the tent. Her senses dulled by fatigue, she barely noticed the eyes of the other Lycan slavers, their murmuring and snarls barely registering to her. For his part, the caracal did what he could to help her out of the camp and beyond the shabby wooden wall, guiding her out into the city proper.

This close to the docks, all the nearby buildings were constructed from wood but beyond them, deeper into the city, Raven could just make out the sight of buildings made from cobblestone and sandstone. A wide cobblestone road stretched out before her, the occasional wagon or carriage riding along it. For a brief moment, like a flash of light in the darkness, Raven felt a rush of childish wonder flood through her body. She had never been to a city as large as this before, having spent the entirety of her life in Royce.

The entirety of her life until recently. That sobering thought immediately quashed the wonder she had felt and dragged her back into the reality of her situation.

Parked on the side of the road was another carriage, its polished and lacquered body reflecting the light from the oil lamps that lined the sides of the road. Standing beside the carriage, her arms crossed and ears folded back, was another feline. She didn't appear to be anything as exotic as the caracal, instead resembling a common domestic short-fur cat, her sleek fur the color of ink. Upon catching sight of the caracal, the new feine immediately rushed towards him, speaking their language in a hushed, agitated voice. Just as it had with the caracal, the language sounded completely different spoken by the newcomer, flowing from her lips in an almost songlike manner.

Perhaps the different races have a different way of speaking the language, Raven thought dully. She couldn't understand what they were saying, what little she had managed to learn from the Lycans doing nothing to help her gleam what the two felines were dicussing.

While she might not have been able to understand their spoken language, she was able to understand some of their body language. The black-furred feline was clearly agitated, her ears folded back and tail lashing through the air behind her. On more than one occasion, Raven even caught her glancing in her direction, her gaze almost accusatory. It was obvious that the newcomer wasn't pleased to see the caracal returning with a human in tow.

The caracal, for his part, didn't seem bothered by his companion's agitation. His body language remained neutral, the tone of his voice calm and measured. He shook his head a few times, his hand occasionally gesturing in Raven's direction. Whatever he said seemed to carry more weight than what the other feline had said, the cat eventually backing down and giving a curt bow before spinning on her heel and opening the door to the carriage for the caracal.

The male gently led Raven to the carriage, assisting the weary girl into the carriage before entering himself, the female feline following inside behind him, closing the door to the wagon behind her. The caracal sat himself across from Raven, his companion glancing uncertainly between him and the human before finally sitting herself beside the caracal.

A heavy and uncomfortable silence settled over them, Raven suddenly feeling very exposed, those feline eyes across from her making her feel far more vulnerable than she ever had with the Lycans. The caracal, apparently picking up on the fact that Raven was unlikely to strike up a conversation of her own, muttered something to his companion, who promptly rapped her knuckles against the wall of the carriage and called out a command to whom Raven could only assume was the driver. The carriage suddenly lurched forward, whisking the girl away from the slave pens and into an uncertain future.

The caracal leaned forward, his golden eye gleaming in the dim light of the carriage. “Be at peace, little one." he spoke, his voice still carrying that same calming tone he had used inside of the tent. “I have no intention of keeping you as a slave."

This caught her attention, the girl's gaze fixating squarely onto the caracal's face. His words seemed genuine, but she had no reason to believe him. To be quite honest, it simply didn't make sense. Why would anyone want to spend money on a slave that they had no intention of keeping? It sounded almost too good to be true. She narrowed his eyes at him. She knew that the Cait didn't practice slavery, so why exactly had a Cait taken it upon himself to purchase her from the slavers?

“Who are you?" she asked, her voice far more accusatory than she had intended.

The black-furred feline bristled, her ears folding back flat against her head. “Such insolence," she hissed. “Lord T'Loak has shown you an immeasurable mercy. He is owed resp-"

The caracal, Lord T'Loak, held up a hand, his companion immediately falling silent, though she continued to glare resentfully at the human across from her. His expression hadn't changed, which only made it harder for Raven to get an idea of what he was thinking. His stoicism was…unnerving. After so much time in the company of the Lycans, who made no effort to hide their emotions, being in the presence of one that knew how to mask their intentions was very unsettling.

“My name is Abbas, of House T'Loak." said the caracal, bowing his head politely as he introduced himself. “This," he continued, gesturing to the female sitting next to him. “This is Messere Nadira, of House Khalil. She is my-"

“Your servant?" Raven interrupted, openly glaring back at Nadira.

“His sworn-sword." She hissed back indignantly.

Abbas held up his hand again, the two females immediately falling silent. “As I'm sure you've likely deduced, we are not citizens of Corsyra. I am a merchant of sorts from the Empire. I prefer to not let my business interest take me outside of our borders, but there were matters here that required my attention."

Raven raised an eyebrow at him. “I can't say that I've heard of many merchant lords, and I've heard of even less Cait that are engaged in the Lycan slave trade."

“You are correct." said Abbas, nodding his head somberly. “My people have long opposed the Lycans and their reliance on slave labor, and I personally have been very vocal with my displeasure with the Lycans being granted permission to use this city for their slave trade."

Raven felt her lips spread into a dry, sardonic grin. “If you're so opposed to slavery then what possible reason could you have for buying me?"

For the first time since she had met him, an emotion finally colored the caracal's face. Abbas looked at her with genuine surprise, his head tilting to the side slightly.

“Why? So that I could free you, of course."

Raven felt that odd ringing settle into her ears again. Of all the possible explanations he could have provided, the prospect of him actually freeing her had not even been up for consideration. It simply didn't make sense that anyone would purchase a slave only to turn around and immediately free them. Someone else might have been ecstatic upon hearing such news, but not Raven. Her better judgment was telling her to not believe him.

“I don't believe you." She responded, her voice sounding distant and emotionless, almost as if it were being said by someone else. After everything she had endured, after so many failed attempts at escaping, to have it all come to an end like this simply felt too good to be true. Every experience she had had with these beast-folk had provided with more than enough of a reason to never trust any of them.

Abbas smiled at her from across the carriage, his expression equal parts gentle and sad. “Your mistrust is understandable." He said, his voice a soft and soothing rumble. “You have been through an indescribable amount of hardship, experienced that which no living being should have to. You have every reason not to trust me, but that doesn't change my sincerity. You are free, no more my property than you were theirs."

Raven opened her mouth to speak, but quickly found that she was at a loss for words. She felt awash with several conflicting emotions. Joy, anger, excitement, sorrow, all of these emotions were swirling around inside of her, threatening to completely overwhelm her. As wonderful and liberating as it felt to have someone say that she was free, she still found herself struggling to believe it.

As if he could sense the whirlwind of emotions rampaging within Raven's head, Abbas held up his hand again, interrupting her fruitless attempts at trying to speak. “I understand that this is likely a lot for you to take in. We will discuss this in further detail later. For now, there are more pressing matters that need to be addressed."

She didn't know how to respond, how could she? Not even ten minutes prior she had been at the mercy of her Lycan captors, now she was riding comfortably inside of a carriage, a warm clock wrapped around her shoulders, and now free for the first time in several weeks.

As the carriage lurched forward, Raven stared out the window, her eyes catching glimpses of the busy streets of Corsyra. The dusk had bled fully into night, but the streets were still as busy as ever. Lycans, Cait, and Vulpes alike moved about their business, indifferent to her suffering. The city was a hive of commerce, busier than anything she had ever seen in her entire life. It made her feel smaller than she ever had before. It was frightening.

The rumble of the carriage wheels on the cobbled streets was rhythmic, almost lulling her into a trance, but her mind raced despite her physical exhaustion. She felt Abbas' presence across from her, though he remained quiet, giving her the space to think. Nadira, for her part, was like a ghost, her dark fur blending with the shadows so that the only part of her that was fully visible were her vibrant green eyes. Raven's body ached from her injuries, every jolt of the carriage sending small shocks of pain through her. Despite her determination to not show any weakness, a soft hiss of pain escaped her lips when they hit a particularly deep rut in the road.

“We will be arriving at a local clinic shortly," Abbas said softly. “You are in need of a healer to examine and tend to your wounds."

Raven's gaze flicked toward him, her green eyes sharp despite her exhaustion. She didn't want his pity. She didn't want anyone's pity.

“I don't need a healer," she muttered, though her voice lacked its usual bite.

Abbas gave her that same gentle yet sad smile. “That, little one, is something we shall leave to the healer to determine."

The carriage ride continued in silence, Raven retreating inward as she watched the buildings and markets blur past. She had no energy left to argue, no fight left to give. Every muscle in her body ached, the sharp pain in her ribs making every breath a reminder of what she had endured.

As they wove through the city, the streets grew narrower and quieter, and soon the din of the bustling city faded into more of a more serene atmosphere. Abbas was also gazing out the carriage windows, his posture relaxed but his singular eye constantly alert as they traveled deeper into the city. The buildings in this part of the city were more grandiose than those that had been built along the shore, made from smooth stone with wide balconies draped in greenery.

The carriage came to a slow halt in front of a modest stone building, its walls painted a shade of blue that Raven suspected had once been the color of the sky. Hanging right above the door was a sign, the language emblazoned upon it completely indecipherable to her, but she was able to identify the symbol above the text: a small bird carrying an olive branch. Nadira exited the carriage first, followed quickly by Abbas, the pair of them moving with feline grace. Once free from the confines of carriage, Abbas turned and extended his hand towards Raven, his golden eye glowing warmy. She hesitated for a moment before begrudgingly accepting the offer for help, her legs still unsteady.

She stood uncertainly to the side, clutching the cloak close to her body as Abbas and Nadira engaged in conversation, speaking rapidly in their native tongue. She had no way of knowing what they were saying, but she got the impression that Abbas was giving his companion some sort of instructions. Once Abbas finished speaking, Nadira simply nodded in affirmation before climbing back into the carriage, which promptly rolled off into the growing shadows.

“Nadira is going off ahead to secure proper lodgings for you."

Raven simply nodded in response, still finding it difficult for her to find her voice. She followed him into the building, wrinkling her nose as she was almost immediately assaulted with a scent of herbs. The inside of the building was modest as the exterior was, the floor and walls made from polished sandalwood, a scattering of cushioned benches lining the walls, and a large wooden counter separating them from the rest of the counter.

Standing behind the counter, his eyes half-lidded behind a pair of thick spectacles, was a Vulpe. From what she could judge, he was a swift fox, his fur a mixture of gray and yellowish tan. He was dressed in heavy woolen robes the color of fine ash, and even heavier looking leather apron worn on top of the robes.

The fox gave them an absentminded greeting, almost as if he hadn't fully recognized that they had entered, but after Abbas cleared his throat pointedly the fox gave a small start before giving the pair his full attention. He bowed low, his eyeglasses almost slipping off the end of his snout, before quickly straightening himself back up. He said something in the odd language that all the beast-folk seemed to speak and Abbas responded in kind, Raven vaguely noting that the language sounded even more different when spoken by the fox.

Once they had finished speaking, the fox turned his attention to Raven, offering her another polite bow of his head. “Name?" he asked, his voice heavily accented.

“T'Loak," Abbas answered, his voice steady but with an undercurrent of seriousness. It didn't slip Raven's notice that he switched back to speaking her language. “My companion is in need of an examination and whatever care you might be able to provide."

The fox's gaze lingered on Raven for a moment longer, taking in the bruises, the cuts, the grime. “Come." he said gently, his voice soothing as he beckoned Raven to follow him beyond the counter.

Raven hesitated, unconsciously looking to Abbas for guidance. It wasn't until he gave her a reaffirming nod that she felt herself move forward, hugging the borrowed cloak close to her body. Her eyes were darting around the interior of the clinic as they walked, drinking in as many details as she could. The clinic was elegant in its simplicity, with warm hues and carefully crafted furniture that reminded her of the barracks back home. The smell of herbs and clean linen filled the air, and there was a stillness that put her oddly at ease.

The fox–whom Raven now realized must have been older than she initially thought, based on how he stooped forward ever so slightly as he moved–led her into a smaller room at the back of the clinic. A large wooden table stood in the center of the room, and shelves lined the walls, filled with jars of strange plants, salves, and bandages.

“Strip." the fox said bluntly as he gestured for her to sit on the table. “Must see everything. Clothes get in way."

Raven hesitated, her pride still flaring despite the pain, but she knew she didn't have much of a choice. Removing the cloak first, she winced as she pulled off the tattered remains of her clothes, though she kept her undergarments on to maintain a small amount of dignity. Every piece of clothing that she removed revealed more and more of the bruises that mottled her skin, the any cuts and scrapes that criss crossed her arms, legs, and back.

The fox's expression softened as he took in the extent of her injuries. “Suffered much. Too much." he said quietly, his hands already moving with practiced ease as he began preparing herbs and ointments. “Lycans cruel. Very cruel. I never welcome here."

Raven didn't reply. She wasn't sure she knew how to respond. Instead, she watched as the heart worked, his movements gentle and precise. The salves he applied were cool against her skin, and though the touch initially stung, the relief that followed was immediate.

It wasn't until he had started wrapping bandages around the worst of her injuries that Raven found her voice again. “You know my language?" she asked, her voice lacking the strength that she had worked so hard to maintain all this time.

“A little." he responded, nodding his head absentmindedly. “Lycan bring many slaves. Many sick, many injured. Help when can, learn language in return." He looked up at her just as he finished bandaging her wrists. “I speak good?"

“Better than many of the Lycans."

He gave her a small smile before returning back to the shelves, rummaging around for a bit before returning with a jar full of a strange viscous white liquid. He poured a small amount of the strange fluid into a cup before filling it the rest of the way with water, stirring the mixture a bit before pressing the cup into her hands.

“Drink." he urged her as he returned the jar to the shelf. “Poppy milk. For pain." he explained upon seeing the confused look on her face.

Seeing no other alternative, and desperate for a respite from the aches and pains that plagued her body, Raven gulped down the mixture greedily. The effects the odd mixture had on her was almost immediate, her body suddenly feeling rather light and free of pain as a slight haziness settled over her head.

Abbas suddenly appeared in the doorway. If it wasn't for the strange fog that had settled over her brain then she would have been rather embarrassed to have him see her so exposed. His expression was unreadable, but there was a heaviness in his eye as he took in her injuries.

“She need rest." the healer said as he gave her another once over, making sure there weren't any additional injuries that he had missed. “Rest and food."

“I will see to it." Abbas replied, his voice soft but firm.

The fox nodded, his focus still on Raven as he carefully examined her bruised cheek. Once he was finished, he stepped back and offered her another small smile. “Wounds will heal. Food and rest heal all. Now, I get fresh clothes."

Raven sat still, her body still feeling oddly light. She watched as the healer disappeared into another room, returning moments later with a simple tunic and soft pants, both far too big for her, but clean and comfortable nonetheless.

“Thank you," Raven muttered, though the words felt foreign on her tongue.

The fox smiled again, a warm and genuine expression, before giving her another low bow. He turned to face Abbas again, the two exchanging more words in their strange language before Abbas passed a handful of silver coins into the fox's hand.

Abbas stepped forward then, his presence a quiet but steady reassurance. “Come," he said softly. “Nadira has returned. Our inn is not too far from here. We'll get you some food and some rest."

Raven's legs felt steadier as she stood, though she could still feel her muscles twinging in discomfort despite the fact that she could no longer feel the pain. She draped Abbas' cloak back around her shoulders before following him out of the clinic and back to the carriage, the night air cool against her freshly bandaged skin. For the first time in what felt like ages, she allowed herself to take a deep breath, the tension in her chest easing ever so slightly.

Nadira was waiting for them inside of the carriage, the feline bowing her head respectfully as Abbas climbed inside and slid past her to his seat. Raven didn't receive the same response when she entered, though she did notice that the feline was no longer looking at her with open disdain. That was a step in the right direction, at the very least.

As they rode through the quiet streets, Raven couldn't help but glance at Abbas. He had bought her freedom–something she still couldn't quite process–and now he was caring for her in a way that no one had since her parents. She didn't know what to make of it, but for the first time, she felt a small spark of hope flicker in the darkness that had surrounded her for so long.

When they arrived at the inn, Abbas helped her down from the carriage once more. The inn was a large, opulent building painted in warm, vibrant hues. Light was drifting out into the street through the open door, the sounds of music and laughter reaching her ears and the mouthwatering scent of food filling her nose. It felt odd, almost alien, to be exposed to something so mundane after spending so much time trapped inside of a cage. It almost felt like she wasn't meant to be there, like she wasn't deserving of such normalcy.

She hesitated, only moving forward once Abbas placed a hand on the small of her back and urged her forward. She was bathed in warmth the instant she crossed the threshold into the inn, and the smell of roasting meats made her stomach rumble. The inn was filled with beast-folk of all different kinds, Cait and Vulpes and even a couple of Lycans. It was almost dizzying seeing so many in one place. Despite the fact that the Lycans had always been an ever-present threat back in Royce, Raven had never actually expected that she would ever actually see one, and now she was standing in the entrance of a building filled with their kind.

The innkeeper, a portly and jovial terrier of some kind, greeted them with a bow, clearly recognizing Abbas and Nadira, and quickly ushered them inside. Raven felt herself recoil, doing her best to keep as far away from the man as she could. While he might not have been a wolf, she found herself rather wary of being in close proximity to any canines. She didn't know if she would ever feel comfortable in the presence of canines ever again, regardless of how many legs they walked on.

“You need food," Abbas said, motioning to a table near the hearth. “Sit. I'll have something brought to you."

Raven did as she was told, sinking into the chair with a quiet sigh of relief. Her body was still weak, her limbs once again starting to feel heavy with exhaustion, but the warmth of the fire and the promise of food made her feel slightly more human.

She could feel eyes on her, the beast-folk around them giving her the occasional sidelong look before whispering something to their companions. Humans must not have been a common sight within the walls of the inn.

She felt her body sinking into the warmth of the inn as her senses slowly began to recover from the constant state of survival. The flickering light of the fire cast shadows along the wooden beams of the ceiling, and the quiet hum of conversation from the other patrons provided a comforting background to her thoughts. It was almost surreal–a calm she had not known in what felt like years.

Nadira had settled herself against the wall by the hearth, her eyes scanning through the crowd of patrons that filled the inn. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Raven felt herself wondering if the female feline ever relaxed. Everything she had demonstrated since they had first met indicated that she took her role as a “sworn-sword" very seriously. In a strange sort of way, she found that the feline's dedication reminded her somewhat of her father.

Abbas moved with purpose across the room, speaking briefly with the innkeeper before returning to the table. His movements were smooth and calculated, an impressive feat considering the fact that he only had one eye. A part of her was tempted to ask how he had been so grievously wounded, but she was self-aware enough to recognize that such a question would be rather improper to ask. When he sat across from her, he studied her for a moment, his golden eye filled with quiet observation, but not judgment.

“You've yet to tell me your name."

Raven felt a pang of guilt, recognizing that what he said was true. She had demanded that he tell her his name, but she had failed to give her own in exchange.

“Raven, of House Tethras." she muttered.

“Tell me, Raven," Abbas said, offering her a reassuring smile, “what do you plan to do now that you are free?"

The question took her by surprise. Free. The word echoed in her mind, but it still felt foreign. She had spent so long fighting to survive that she hadn't thought beyond the next breath, the next moment. What could she do now that she was no longer a prisoner?

“I don't know," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. It felt strange to say it out loud, to acknowledge the uncertainty that had taken root deep inside of her. “I…I don't have anywhere to go. No one to return to."

“Lycans aren't known for leaving survivors." Nadira muttered bitterly from her spot by the hearth. Her eyes were still scanning through the other patrons, but it was clear that she was still listening intently to their conversation.

Abbas nodded, as if he had expected her response. “Your uncertainty is understandable. What you have endured would shake even the strongest of warriors. I will not press the subject. For now, rest and recovery are what you need most."

Before Raven could respond, a tray of food was placed on the table before her–freshly baked bread, a steaming bowl of stew, and a cup of warm tea. The smell was intoxicating, and her stomach clenched in hunger. She had not eaten properly in what felt like an eternity, and her body was quick to remind her of its needs.

“Eat," Abbas urged gently, gesturing to the food. “You've earned it."

Raven hesitated for only a moment before reaching for the bread. The first bite was heaven–soft, warm, and comforting. She hadn't realized just how hungry she was until the food was in front of her, and soon she was tearing into the bread and stew with a hunger that surprised even her.

Abbas watched her quietly, his face an unreadable mask. He said nothing, allowing her the space to eat in silence, to focus on something other than survival for the first time in ages.

When Raven had finished her meal, she felt a warmth in her belly that spread through her entire body. It wasn't just the food–it was the warmth of safety, a feeling she hadn't known since her village had burned. For a moment, she almost allowed herself to relax.

“I don't understand why you're doing this," Raven said finally, breaking the silence. Her voice was low, but there was no malice in her words, only confusion. “You don't know me. You don't owe me anything."

Abbas leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled as he considered her words.

You are correct. I don't know you and I don't owe you anything. However, the gods do not require that I only be charitable to those I know. I do not need to know you to understand that you are deserving of kindness. This world is harsh enough without me contributing to that cruelty."

Raven frowned, her mind racing. She wasn't used to this kind of kindness, especially not from one like Abbas–a Cait noble from an empire far from her own. She had lived her entire life being told that the beast-folk of Arcadia could not be trusted. Not just the Lycans, but the Cait and Vulpes as well. While the felines and vulpines had not participated in the invasion of her homeland, the fact that they had refused to intervene and stop the Lycans had done a great deal to villainize them in the eyes of her people. It was engrained into her very being to not trust any of the beast-folk, and yet there was something about Abbas that disarmed her. He wasn't asking for anything in return. His efforts seemed genuine, and that frightened her more than the Lycans ever had.

“I don't need pity." she muttered, though the words felt hollow even to her.

“Nor do I offer it." Abbas replied calmly. “Pity is for those that have lost all hope, for the broken and the destitute. I see something different in you."

Raven stared into the fire, the flames dancing in her green eyes. Hope. It was a word she had all but forgotten. The Lycans had tried to beat it out of her, to crush her spirit, but here she was–still alive and still herself. Maybe Abbas saw that in her. Maybe he saw something that she hadn't allowed herself to see yet.

The warmth of the fire and the fullness of her stomach began to lull her into a drowsy state. Despite herself, she felt her body relax, the exhaustion settling in now that the immediate danger had passed. She hadn't slept in a proper bed in so long, and the thought of doing so now felt almost too good to be true.

Abbas must have noticed her drooping eyelids, for he stood up and motioned her to follow. “Come," he said. “Arrangements have been made for you to share a room with Nadira. You will be safe here for the night."

Raven blinked, trying to shake the haze of sleep that threatened to overtake her. She stood, though her legs felt heavy with fatigue, and followed Abbas up a narrow staircase to the second floor of the inn, Nadira falling into line behind them. The hallway was dimly lit, the wooden floor creaking softly underfoot as they walked.

Abbas stopped in front of a door and opened it, revealing a modest but comfortable room. Two beds with fresh linens stood against either side of the far wall, and a small basin of water sat on a table near the window. The moonlight filtered in through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room.

“You can bathe and rest here," Abbas said, his voice gently. “There's no rush to do anything beyond that tonight."

Raven stepped into the room, her eyes scanning the space. It was simple, but it felt like a luxury after everything she had been through. She hadn't had an opportunity to bathe herself, let alone a clean bed to sleep in, in what felt like years. During the countless days she had spent caged on the ship, seawater and rain was what passed for a bath, and the hard wood of the deck was her bed. She turned to Abbas, uncertain of how to express the conflicting emotions swirling inside of her.

“Thank you." she said quietly, the words catching in her throat. She wasn't used to this–being shown kindness from a beastfolk.

Abbas gave her a small nod, his eye aglow with warmth. “Rest well, Raven. I have instructed Nadira to assist you with anything you may need tonight. We will speak more in the morning.

With that, he turned on his heel and left her alone with the black-furred feline, closing the door softly behind him. Raven stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door, before turning her attention to the basin of water. She hadn't had the luxury of a proper bath in so long that she had almost forgotten what it had felt like to be clean.

Nadira, as if she had read Raven's thoughts, suddenly spoke. “Take those off. When you next speak with Lord T'Loak you should be as presentable as possible."

Raven was far too tired to argue. She slowly pulled the tunic and trousers the healer had given her and slowly made her way towards the basin. She sat herself down on a small stool by the basin, shivering slightly as Nadira approached her from behind. The feline dipped a cloth into the cool water before starting to rub it against the girl's body, washing away the grime and sweat that clung to her skin. The water soothed her sore muscles, and though the bandages covering her wounds prevented her entire body from being wiped down, the simple act of being cleaned felt like a relief.

Nadira was surprisingly gentle, taking special care to avoid causing Raven any discomfort. There was something rather maternal about her actions, stirring faint memories of when Raven had still been very young and her mother would bathe her. She tried to catch a glimpse of Nadira's face out of the corner of her eyes, curious as to how exactly the feline was responding to having the responsibility of looking after her essentially forced on to her. Their first interactions had been far from genial, but the feline hadn't spoken much since she had left them at the clinic. Nadira's face was an emotionless mask, the feline demonstrating the exact same stoicism that Abbas had, but Raven was able to detect that her vibrant green eyes seemed to have softened slightly.

The last thing the feline worked on was meticulously scrubbing Raven's hands completely clean. The healer had done an adequate job of cleaning the ycan's blood from her hands, but her skin had maintained a slight red tinge to it. The memory of it made it feel as if a heavy stone had lodged itself in her stomach. Despite the fact that she had spent the majority of her life being trained in combat, she had never actually expected that she would see combat, let alone actually take a life. And now she had taken two.

It was the most recent one that frightened her the most. When she had killed the Lycan soldier during the assault on Fort Ironwood, she had felt sick to her stomach after the fact. When she had killed the Lycan guard back at the slave pen, she hadn't felt anything beyond rage. She had felt anger the likes of which she had never felt before, a toxic, blinding rage that had driven her to act without a moment's thought. The memory of it was sickening. She had no desire to feel such undiluted rage ever again.

Once she was finished, Nadira helped Raven to her feet and guided her to one of the beds, the softness of the linens almost overwhelming the tired girl. For the first time in a long while, she felt safe. The weight of exhaustion finally overtook her, and as her eyes began to flutter shut, she allowed herself to drift into a deep sleep.