The walk to the north ridge was longer than anything she usually attempted on her own. She kept close to Cera the whole way, her boots crunching through crusted snow and the wind clawing at the fur-lined hood she’d pulled tight around her face. She counted her breaths, the way Cera had taught her long ago, trying to force back the fear.In for four. Hold for four. Out for four.The white world pressed in on every side, vast and open and terrifying, and she kept walking anyway, one foot after the other, because somewhere ahead of them a woman was dying of being alone.
Two warriors waited at a respectful distance from the cave mouth, and Cera signaled them to stay back. The entrance was a black gash in the grey rock, half-choked with drifted snow, exactly the kind of place a hunted thing would crawl into to die.
“She’s in there,” Cera said quietly. “Far back, in the left branch. I’ll wait here. If you need me, call. If she comes at you, just get out. Don’t try to be brave about it.”
She nodded, even though her heart was hammering hard enough to hurt. She folded the extra fur over her arm, then took the small covered dish of warm food and the shielded crystal lamp and stepped into the dark alone.
The cave swallowed the wind at once, and the sudden quiet rang in her ears. She let her eyes adjust, the dim blue glow of the shielded lamp throwing soft shadows on the rough stone, and she moved slowly, one careful step at a time, making no attempt to be silent. She wanted the woman to hear her coming. Surprises were the worst thing.
“Hello?” she called, and her own voice sounded small and thin in the dark. “My name’s Polly. I’m human, like you. I’m not going to hurt you. I’ve just got some food, and something to keep you warm.”
A scrape of metal on stone answered her, followed by a voice, hoarse and cracked and furious. “Stay back.”
She stopped. The left branch opened ahead of her, low and narrow, and in the deepest corner of it a shape huddled against the rock. In the dim blue light she made out a hunched, shaking woman with a mass of roughly hacked reddish-brown hair and a face gone hollow and grey with cold and exhaustion. A length of rusted metal bar was clutched in her hands, held up like a weapon and a shield both.
“I’m not coming any closer,” she said quietly. She sank down slowly to sit on the cold stone floor, well out of reach, making herself smaller. “See? I’m just going to sit right here.”
“You’re one of them.” The woman’s eyes darted past her, towards the entrance, wild and calculating. “You’re bait. They send the human first so I’ll drop my guard. I’m not stupid.”
“I’m not bait.” She kept her voice soft and even. “I know how it looks. I promise you, I know exactly how it looks. I was stolen from Earth and… sold. Kept in a mine underground.” She watched the woman’s face flicker at the wordsold. “I don’t know how long I was there. It felt like forever. And then some people got me out and brought me here. When I first arrived, I was scared of almost everyone. I didn’t know who I could trust.”
The bar wavered, just slightly. “You’re lying.”
“Why would I lie about that?” She set the covered dish down on the stone between them and slid it a little way towards the woman. “It’s food. It’s warm. You’re starving—I can see it. When did you last eat?”
The woman didn’t answer. But her eyes went to the dish, and Polly saw her swallow, saw the raw animal need war with the terror on her hollow face. When the woman still didn’t reach for the dish, Polly took off the lid, letting the rich aroma of the root stew fill the space as she ate a small spoonful.
“You see? It’s perfectly safe. I’m going to move back now,” she added. “All the way back. So you can get it without me being close. All right?”
She scooted backwards across the cold floor until her spine met stone, giving the woman as much space as the narrow branch allowed. And after a long, agonized moment, the woman gave a feral lunge, snatched the dish, and scrambled back into her corner with it, the bar still gripped in her other fist. She tore the cover off and ate with her fingers, ravenous, watching Pollythe whole time over the rim like she expected the food to be snatched away.
“That’s good,” she murmured. “Eat as much as you want. There’s more.”
The woman ate, and some of the wildness bled out of her eyes as the warm food hit her stomach. Her shaking slowed.
“What’s your name?” she asked gently.
The woman went still.
“Tess,” she whispered at last.
“Tess.” She smiled at the other woman. “It’s really good to meet you, Tess. I’ve got a fur here, too. A warm one. I’m going to slide it over the same way, and you don’t have to let me anywhere near you, but you’re freezing, and?—”
“Is that what they told you to say?” Tess straightened up a little, and her voice hardened. “Did they tell you to say nice things? To be kind? Play the game. You have to play the game. Not too scared. Not too willing. They like to break you, the bastards. It’s more fun for them when you fight a little, but not too much or they’ll hurt you more.”
The air left her lungs. For a second she was back in that cell, curled in on herself, learning the awful rules of survival.
“I know,” she said, and she could hear the way her own voice had gone rough. “I know what they like.”
Tess stared at her, and Polly saw the recognition in her eyes.
She swallowed against the tightness in her throat. “I’m not trying to trick you, Tess. I’m trying to help. You’re safe here. Truly safe. I promise you.”
Suspicion warred with exhaustion on Tess’s face. Then a sharpcrackcame from somewhere overhead, and both women looked up. Anothercrackfollowed, louder this time, and a shower of tiny stones rattled down from the ceiling.
“Tess,” she said carefully, taking a few cautious steps towards the other woman and holding out her hand, “I think we need to move.”
“No.”
