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Cadmus glances to me and back. “Because my brother was locked inside along with them. And he sure as hell doesn’t belong there.”
Leather Vest shakes his head, his lips downturned with disgust. “I hope Rhys kicks the everloving shit out of you.”
“Rhys, huh?” Cadmus hammers his fist into the man’s face, knocking him out cold. “Now I know what to put on his gravemarker.”
Chapter 8
Wren
After a half day’s rest, I decide I can no longer stand being idle anymore, and exit the cave for some fresh air. The cramping has subsided, for the most part, and I haven’t bled since the night before.
Rhys has gone off with Rigs and Tinker to scout the perimeter of our camp for the upcoming evening, otherwise he’d probably be giving me crap for getting up and around so soon.
I was never good at sitting still, though.
Women bustle around, preparing the next meal for everyone, and they smile at me as they pass. When I first arrived, they were leery and untrusting of the girl who came from the other side of the wall, and now, I feel like one of them. So much so, I sit down beside one of the elders and grab a knife set out to peel the pile of potatoes in front of her. As I lift one to begin my task, she places her hand on mine and shakes her head.
“Go rest. I’ve got plenty of help.”
Mara, a bit older than me, perhaps in her thirties, sits down beside me and carefully slides the knife from my hand. “I get up for one second, and you’re already stealing my job.” Her belly sticks out quite a bit more than mine, though I’m certain she’s only a month, or two, further along. As I understand, she was impregnated by an Alpha back in Calico, rescued from one of their experimental wings there. Her once-shaved head, already growing in with stubble and showing off the number tattooed on the back of her neck, is a sure sign she’s passed through Calico.
Chuckling, I pull my legs up to my chest and wrap my arms around them. “I feel so useless.”
“Of course you do.” Brow raised, Mara points the knife in her hands toward my belly. “And yet, your insides would argue differently. Can you imagine the effort it takes to prepare for a life? Far more than this stew, I can tell you that much.” With a smile, she goes back to her peeling.
“Speak for yourself! I’ve damn near cut myself nearly three times on this blade,” the older one to my left complains.
“Says the woman who bore seven children in her life.”
“Seven?” I can’t even imagine such a thing. The average woman in my generation is lucky to bear three children, let alone seven.
The older woman, with long silvery hair, stares off and sighs. “I’ve had a lot of sex in my day. Probably why my body refuses to stop ticking now.”
Both Mara and I laugh at that.
“Where are they now? Your children?” Mara tosses a peeled potato into an oversized pot.
The elder woman’s chest expands with a breath, as she goes back to peeling the potato. “In the grave. Every one. One at birth, two when the Dredge first hit, three by accident, and one … by Ragers. They dragged her off when she was only fifteen years old. Days, we searched for her. Or her remains, as it were. Never found her, though.” Her brows knit together in a frown as she carves away at the potato. “Of all my children, her death troubles me most.”
She likely wasn’t killed right away. My guess is that she was taken back to a nest and impregnated with their spawn. I’ve only seen a nest once, never the children born to Ragers, but the agony of the poor woman suffering through such a pregnancy is something I’ll never forget. One I witnessed when I was dragged to a Ragers’ nest before Rhys came to my aid.
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m the one who’s sorry. I shouldn’t be going on about such somber things.”
“No.” I shake my head, elbows resting on my knees. “We do them a disservice by keeping silent about it. What was her name?”
“Lysandra. I always called her Lissie. Missy Lissie.” She blinks as if to hold back tears and smiles. “Sassy little thing.”
“I love that name. Lysandra. So pretty.”
“Thank you, dear.”
“And when are you due?” I ask Mara, watching her reach over her belly for another potato. Batting her hand away, I nab one for her.
“I need to do these things myself.” There’s an air of amusement in her voice, but she wears a serious face. “My child will be fatherless, after all. I’m due in four months time, according to Haseya.” She looks to be nine months already, and I have to will myself not to look surprised.
“He was an Alpha like Rhys.”
