Page 43 of The Ashpaw: Part One

But she doubted Marin would allow her a day off to rest and recover. If anything, asking might cause her to be assigned some truly horrible task, because she, as Darion had declared, stood apart.

She wasn’t clan.

And therefore, couldn’t even hope for the protection, care, and kindness being a part of the clan would afford.

Not that there had been all that much before, but at least it was something to depend on.

Now she really had nothing.

Her fingers reached out to grab onto something, and fresh grief washed over her when she realized her treasures were gone. All she had was the dress she wore, now covered in dirt, sweat, and blood.

She waited as long as possible before someone would have to kick and rouse her, then rose slowly, limping towards the bathing room, her breath rasping.

Tegen’s eyes widened as she passed her, her mouth turning downwards almost imperceptibly in an expression that might be mistaken for pity if such an emotion was allowed for the Ashpaw.

And then her hand brushed past hers.

It wasn’t a slap, or a pinch.

Just the briefest moment of skin skating across hers, a comfort, and she held back a sob, keeping herself from flinging into the woman’s arms and begging for more.

Instead she closed her eyes, inhaled as deeply as her chest would allow, and moved onward.

She edged to the lip of the small pool, and peeled off the dress, hoping tonight she would get a chance to at least rid it of the smell it had started to accumulate, and then lowered herself in, hissing at the sharp sting of the cold but welcoming the numb that followed.

The bruises ached as she ran her hands over them, especially on her face, and her tangled hair was probably a lost cause for finger combing. But she made quick work before pulling herself back up, shaking and trying to get the filthy dress back on over wet skin.

Getting upstairs took a while, and by the time she entered the kitchen, even the crusty bits of stale bread and burned porridge were gone.

Just as well.

She found her broom, sent a silent prayer to the gods that that hadn’t been taken, too, and shuffled into the dining hall to resume the day’s work of disappearing.

People came and went in a loud, noisy blur, her nose unable to detect much scent aside from the blood that still clung to her nostrils, and she watched the sunlight move across the floor, counting down the seconds until the final meal was over and she would be alone.

Would they allow her to sleep up here, she wondered. She often stayed well beyond the last Solvekh left, the sound of her broom sweeping on the floor mingling with the scurrying of rats along the wall.

Sometime between breakfast and lunch, she’d stopped for a moment, wincing when she’d accidentally twisted her torso too far to the left, and heard an almost equally pained gasp behind her.

“Fern… what happened to you?”

Jules had done his best to be a silent presence since her failed shift, letting her know through glances alone that he hadn’t forgotten about her, but the sound of his voice was enough to send her stomach into knots.

Comfort, familiarity…

Fear.

“You shouldn’t…”

He reached out to grab her arm, and when she hissed in pain through gritted teeth, his touch softened. But still, he turned her around, his eyes cataloging each and every mark upon her skin.

At least the ones he could see.

He was silent for a moment, swallowing and breathing heavy.

“This isn’t right… they’re not supposed to…” He paused, closing his eyes to collect his thoughts. “This is beyond what’s intended. Has Alpha Darion seen you?”

She wasn’t sure, and so shook her head.