‘Again!’ he roars, moving away.
She gets to her feet, swaying a little and assumes the fighting stance they taught us on our first day.
But then the horn sounds.
The practice for today is over.
We straighten, saying nothing, looking through each other now that the sparring is finished, and we file along with the other humans through the tall, open archway to the nighttime paddock.
I wait in the middle as the gates are closed, locking us in for the night. The river is there. The gargle of it sounds so inviting and my thirst is great.
But water isn’t what I need. Not yet.
The overseers wait until we’re all inside before the food rains down. Scraps from the kitchens. They give it to the male side first.
The females wait in perfect silence, all faces turned upward toward the open shaft above us with almost reverent expressions.
Food is coming.
Meat falls first. Mostly bones. Some is raw.
We don’t care.
I grab half a chicken in mid-air, snarling at the woman next to me who tries to snatch it and hitting another who lurches toward me, sending her to the stone floor.
I kick her as she grabs for me even as I tear at the bones with my teeth, and I retreat to the side, putting my back to the wall so no one can sneak up on me.
I eat fast, stripping the bones methodically, excited that they aren’t so bare as usual and that it’s cooked through.
It’s not enough, nowhere near. But it’ll keep me alive for another day.
Survive.
I gnaw on what’s left, snapping the bird carcass into smaller pieces and sucking on the splinters until there’s nothing but sharp bits that I can’t possibly eat. I know. I’ve tried. The others here do similar.
I cast the pieces aside, ignoring the unlucky ones who skitter forward to steal them. I go to the river and drink, keeping my eyes open in case one of the others is angry that I got the chicken.
Survive.
But no one bothers me. Most are wary. Maybe they’ve noticed theaccidentsthat happen when I’m around. Maybe it’s because I’ve killed here more than once.
There was a male. Days go, I think. He caught me when the overseers weren’t looking. Pushed me against a wall and held me there while he fumbled with his breeches.
We were close to one of the shafts, so I pretended to submit, and when the fool lowered his guard, I pushed him. He teetered on the edge for a moment longer than I thought he would before he was swallowed by the darkness. None of the overseers noticed, not that they’d have done anything but watched if they had.
I gulp from the river until my belly is full, and then I drink some more.
I wash the new cuts and scrapes I received today, as well as my older injuries. There’s a deep and oozing gash on my side with red lines beginning to radiate out from it that I know means fever and weakness will follow. That means death a hundred ways here.
Survive.
So, I wade into the river a bit deeper, as I have done before, and I reach for the bottom to find the purple algae I know grows amongst the bigger stones. I pull a wad up and push it into my mouth, grimacing at the bitterness and making absolutely sure that I don’t swallow any.
One of the males is watching me from the other side. He makes no move toward me though. Those who try to get across the river are killed by the guards watching from the holes in the ceiling if they don’t drown in the deeper water first, which is why I stay close to the bank when I need to do this. Don’t want to catch an arrow because some flea-bitten goblin made a mistake.
The man tilts his head at me, clearly wondering what I’m doing. I ignore him as I chew the slimy plant, letting the juices that leak from it run down my chin until it’s a rough texture and the color of violets.
I smell it, making doubly sure it’s the right plant, and when I get the earthy, bloody scent I want, I cover the deep cut with it, pushing it in and letting it sting.
