Page 14 of The Ashpaw: Part One

Marin lifted an eyebrow, unimpressed and then confused as she took Fern in. “Station?”

“Dining hall, beginning tomorrow.”

Marin looked her over again, like she still wasn’t quite convinced, and then shrugged. “Well, Alpha’s orders, then. Come on, girl, let me get you settled.”

Before she could leave to follow, Jules tapped her shoulder. “I hope to see you tomorrow.”

Fern smiled, and it felt neither forced nor fake. “I hope so, too.”

Chapter 5

Fern

Marin led her down another flight of narrow stone stairs, the air growing colder with each step until the warmth of the upper halls and the wolfkin that had carried her were no more.

The sleeping quarters opened before them in a long, low chamber half-sunk beneath the castle earth. Narrow windows lined the uppermost stretch of one wall, little more than slits set so high they admitted only pale bands of daylight and gave no view of the world beyond.

Rows of iron cots filled the space, each fitted with a thin straw mattress and a folded gray blanket at its foot. At the far end, a broad stone hearth burned low, its heat struggling to reach the furthest beds.

Beyond that, the room held nothing. No rugs softened the floors. No tapestries broke up the blank sweep of stone walls. No personal touches lingered to suggest comfort or belonging.

It was a place where people were merely stored.

“This one’s available,” Marin said, tapping a bed far from the fireplace. How she could tell them apart was a mystery to Fern. “We wake before dawn to prepare breakfast and go to bed when the kitchens are clean, usually after midnight. Later if there’s been a feast.”

Fern’s eyes widened just a touch. Late nights were nothing new, but their tavern hours kept her family sleeping well past sunrise. Waking that early was going to be a challenge, and she was already preparing herself for the inevitable exhaustion.

“We eat meals together, before the Lurvekh. If you wish to bathe, you can do so back here.”

Marin pushed open the heavy wooden door at the other end of the sleeping quarters, and a rush of damp, chilled air met Fern’s skin.

At the center of the dimly-lit room lay a sunken pool fed by a narrow spring that burst from the rock face itself, pouring in a clear silver stream.

One glance told her it would be freezing.

“Buckets and soap there,” she added, gesturing to them in the corner. Then she turned around, snapping her fingers for Fern to follow.

She was shown where to get her clothes, where to leave them for the washing, and then was left back in the sleeping quarters.

“Be ready tomorrow,” Marin said, about to leave. “You’ll find little sympathy for Solvekh who can’t keep up.”

She was already halfway out the door when Fern yelled out, “Wait!”

Marin turned around impatiently.

“Is there… something I can do? In my free time? Perhaps a library or gardens or…”

“Free time?” she barked with a laugh. “We have no free time. Alpha Darion has already shown uncommon indulgence in granting you this day of rest. Do not expect such favors again.”

And then she shut the door, the echo hitting off the walls and ringing longer than she’d thought possible.

She looked around the room once more, taking stock of her new life.

Work from dawn ‘til after midnight. Bathe in cold water. No free time. Itchy uniforms and itchier blankets.

From now until death.

Fern sat down on a cot—she already couldn’t remember which one was hers—too shocked to even cry.