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Because the more I worry, the more she will.
Ella winces as I wipe down the wound, after I clean it with the cleansing liquid. I carry a small healing kit with me at all times because I have learned the hard way how useful it can be.
“See?” My voice is calm despite my worry, despite the unsteady beat of my heart. “It isn’t that deep. But I will need to stitch it up.”
I look around then for the naga who dropped us here this morning. The sun is lower in the sky, so that means he will return soon to check our progress.
I cannot let him find us like this. Ella needs to be on her feet by the time he gets here, at the very least.
I can’t let them take her, I think to myself as I run a hand through my tangled red hair.
“Eat this.” I flash a smile at her as I hand her the pain reliever. It is a handful of dried meqixste. I always ensure that I have some on hand.
And then I start to sew.
Ella makes it about halfway through before she starts to cry.
“You only needed eight stitches!” I exclaim, trying to keep my voice upbeat. It isn’t difficult, because she has stopped bleeding.
“It hurts,” she whimpers.
“Just stay still until they come fetch us. I’ll do your share of the work,” I whisper. She looks at me gratefully, but she doesn’t stop crying for a long while.
The naga arrive at sundown, but we all know immediately that something is different.
Instead of loading us onto the back of the wagon that we came to the field in, they separate the men from the women and make us stand in lines.
Ella looks much better – I bandaged her leg and gave her all the meqixste – and she manages to hobble to my side.
The naga who stand in front of us are very clearly soldiers. They look at us with cold eyes, paying no attention to the men and boys who have been working with us.
They simply look at the women.
I am cold with fear, and my palms are clammy.
“This isn’t good,” Ella whispers to me.
“No,” I whisper back. “It really isn’t.”
One of the soldiers comes to stand in front of Ella and I, and he seems to be sizing us up.
He looks me up and down, and I force myself to keep my arms at my side, though I want to cross them over my chest, to hide myself.
I hate being looked at, whether it is by human men or by the naga soldiers. I keep my face to the ground until the naga reaches a hand out to my shoulder and yanks me forwards.
I may not look it, because I am short and lean, but my body is quite strong from having worked in the fields for most of my life.
But I am not stronger than the naga.
“You’re coming with me.” He shuffles me over to a small huddle of women, who have been picked out from the entire group for reasons yet unknown.
“They’re the ones we want,” he calls to one of the other soldiers, who seems to be in charge. “They’ll do nicely.”
“Yes,” the soldier in charge answers, a lascivious smile stretching across his ugly face. “They will do well to relieve the stresses of our soldiers. And I am sure that they will be well rewarded.”
Relieve the stresses of our soldiers? What the fuck does that mean?
I look around frantically at the other women in the group I am in. The one next to me, a woman I know as Lily, has gone completely white. Her hands ball into fists.
