Approximately 1 Month Later

I'm standing in the back yard, pinning clothes up on the line. The sky is a beautiful, faultless blue, the sunlight is warm on my skin, and a pleasant breeze ruffles the shirts and sheets already hung up to dry. A tiny brown bird is warbling  away on the top of the stoop roof, it's song surprisingly loud for such a small creature, but pure and sweet. I smile and pull  Arramy's blanket out of the basket.

A small sound behind me makes me pause. My heart skips a beat. I know he's there before one strong hand spans the small of my waist, and the other slowly, gently gathers my hair over my shoulder, baring the back of my neck. I shiver, a rush of pleasure sliding down my spine as he bends, his breath feathering my nape for a moment before he presses a lingering kiss to that sensitive place below the corner of my jaw —

"Larra... Larra?"

My daydream fractured and tore, a dull, repetitive banging  finally punching through the birdsong, the stink of unwashed bodies overwhelming the summer breeze.

"I'm so sorry, love," Fierda whispered, her voice rough. "It's just she's doing it again, and you're the only one who can talk to her."

With a groan, I sat up and opened my eyes, peering blearily around the cargo bin. The source of the banging was immediately obvious: Eiranne was standing in the corner, slamming her forehead against the corrugated metal, every blow punctuated by a keening sob and a single word: "ghuo!"

"Beetlelegs is coming this way!" Maphia hissed, feet scrabbling at the wall below the window grate, her grip on the bars white knuckled as she clung up there like a monkey, fighting to keep one eye to the grate so she could get a glimpse of the deck beyond the end of the bin.  

Muscles shaking, I pushed myself off the floor and shuffled forward, chains dragging at my ankles, my head giving its usual warning throb.

Thump "Ghuo..."

My voice was raspy from disuse, the Tradeslang words falling from my tongue like sawdust. "Eiranne... mo pu-ang." (Eiranne... don't do that.) "Maman hadeshiri?" (What would your mother say?) 

Eiranne paused, but her sobs only grew louder, her groans more desperate. She bashed her forehead against the wall harder, adding a blow from her fists. "Ghuo!"

"Maman mo shiri-ang ghuo. Adei. Al phang ipei-na." (Your mother wouldn't want you to die. Stop it. The guards are coming.)

Thump! "Ghuo!" It had become more of a howl, high and hysterical.

"Great. Now Ugly Face is coming with his stick," Maphia growled. She twisted around to aim a disgusted glare down at Eiranne. "No dinner for us. Again."
Thump! "Ghuo!" Thump! "Ghuo!" Thump! Thump! Thump! "Ghuo!"

The usual methods weren't working. I gave up and grabbed Eiranne, wrapping my arms around her bony ribs and hauling her backwards before she could brain herself. She screamed like a wildcat and thrashed, but Fierda hurried to catch her feet, and together we wrestled her down into her spot along the wall.

For a moment I held her close and pressed my mouth to her ear. "Uma mo ghuo. Um-ang mei-pang, Eiranne. Ma jodishi ei-pha-mang." (You can't die. You have to live, Eiranne. Don't let them win.)

She went still, breathing hard, her meager energy already spent. Slowly, she folded herself up small, tucking her knobby knees against her chest and her scrawny arms against her sides, silently removing herself to wherever she went in her head to get away.

At least she was quiet. Moving stiffly, I let go and scooted away from her.

Fierda sat back and let out a deep breath, only to suck in a gasp at the creak of the feeding hatch hinge and the clack of a wooden baton against the bars, followed by Ugly Face's nasal voice shouting in broken Altyran, "You! You stay quiet! No more disturbance! No more noise!"

As one, we all faced the feeding hatch and bowed low, hunching like rats, murmuring the required, "Yes, Afficitogi Morrai."

Ugly Face grunted. "Good... But next time, no good."

He was about to close the hatch when Fierda swatted a hand in my direction, feeling frantically for my arm. "The medication! Ask him for medicine for Gadia," she whispered, still bowing to the floor. "Quick, before he goes!"

Next to me, Maphia began shaking her head. "Don't do it, it'll make him mad."

I hesitated, my gaze straying to Gadia. She was lying in her spot, her skin sallow and gleaming with sweat, her ankles swollen tight around the cuffs of her shackles. Fierda was right, she needed medication. She wouldn't make it much longer without it. A cold, calculating little voice popped up, And if you ask, and Ugly Face is in a bad mood, nobody else is going to make it much longer either. We can't keep going  without food. 

"Please, Larra... If it weren't for her, you'd be dead," Fierda whispered, turning slightly to look at me, green eyes pleading.

She was right about that too, although I wasn't sure what good that had done anyone. My stomach twisted into an empty knot at the prospect of another night spent hungry, but I took a breath, and raised my voice. "Afficitogi Morrai!" I called just as the bolt slid home on the feeding hatch.

There was a pause. Then the bolt slammed open, the door swung wide, and Ugly Face's indisputably ugly pock scarred face loomed in the hatchway. "You! I said no more —"

I bowed lower. "Afficitogi Morrai, Kankar'ren apinap'pa... ep inawog... ip'pu in'nu," (Officer Morrai, we need your help. A girl has need of much medicine.)  I stammered out, my tired brain stumbling over the switch to Panesian.

Ugly Face was silent for a beat too long, and I closed my eyes, teeth pressed tight. Then my blood ran cold as Ugly Face grunted and banged the hatch shut again, closing off the fresh sea air and sunlight and casting us back into the gloom and heat of the bin.

The rattle of the bolt sliding into place echoed overloud inside the bin.

"What did you say?" Maphia demanded, straightening out of her bow, her eyes narrowed as she rounded on me. "What did you flaighan say?"

"I just asked for medicine," I got out, sinking down into my little space along the wall, a fiery ache starting up behind my right eye.

Fierda's voice was thick with exhaustion. "Leave her be. She'd have done the same for you." She got to her feet and began picking  her way to her spot, stepping over the empty chains of the three girls who had died.

"How do we know that's what she said?" Maphia hissed, eyeing me up and down. "How does she know how to speak their language, anyway? What if she just bungled it up and now we're going to starve —"

There was a thump, then a loud, shuddering creak, and the entire wall at the end of the bin cracked open along its seam, the halves of the loading doors parting to reveal Ugly Face, Beetlelegs and the Piglet, all of them brandishing their batons.

I hated how fast I dove for the floor, flattening myself on my belly, arms over my head, blindly hoping the cries and the pain wouldn't start, praying that I would be overlooked if I didn't seem like a threat.

The Piglet laughed. "It's like magic," he crowed in Panesian. "Open the door, and poof! None of them have eyes."

Footsteps sounded, entering the bin, bare feet padding down the narrow open space between the rows of shackle chains. They stopped in front of Gadia. There was a clank of metal. The gritty slish of something being dragged through the filthy straw on the floor.

Across the bin, Fierda whimpered the word "No!" under her breath.

The dragging stopped,  followed immediately by the blow of wood striking flesh, and then Fierda's  harsh breathing.

The dragging began again, and with it nausea crept up my throat. I lifted my head, forcing myself to watch what they were doing.

Piglet and Beetlelegs had Gadia by her arms and were pulling her toward the door of the cargo bin. She wasn't heavy, but she hung limp between them, unresponsive and unresisting, until they reached the end of the floor and hauled her out into the sunlight. She moaned when her feet slid free of the bin and hit the deck with a dull thud.

Beside me, Maphia sniffled and clamped a hand over her own mouth, her shudders making her chains jingle.

We stayed silent as Ugly Face came over to examine Gadia, leering down at her, taking in her puffy face and swollen legs. He shook his head. Clucked his tongue. Then he tipped his chin at the ship's railing, and turned to look in at the rest of us while Piglet and Beetlelegs each took a wrist and began dragging Gadia again.

"You learn!" Ugly Face shouted. "You worth what buyer will pay! So you behave! You be happy with what you given!"

He kept going, while behind him, Piglet and Beetlelegs reached the railing and hefted Gadia's fever-stricken body up off the deck by her wrists and ankles. They began swinging her between them. Once. Twice. On the third, they let her go, and she flew in a gentle, almost graceful arc over the top of the railing.

There was no splash. No scream. She was there one moment, and then she was gone, and Ugly Face was still shouting. "You don't wanna behave, you worth nothing! It gonna be your fault! You choose!"

Then Piglet and Beetlelegs closed the cargo bin doors, locking us in again.

A dumb, stunned silence reigned.

Then Fierda gave a tiny, pathetic snort, inhaling through a runny nose before letting out a low, anguished groan.

Maphia was shaking.   

I straightened out of my bow and slumped back against the wall, blinking away tears. Tears were useless, here. That I had learned very quickly. Tears were useless, and so were smiles. So was anger. So was rebellion. Apparently, so was asking for medicine, now.

My head lolled with the sway of the ship as it churned through the waves, carrying us onward, leaving any trace of sweet, thoughtful, patient Gadia behind.

Slowly, I let my eyes drift shut again. Within seconds, a memory began unspooling around me, stealing away the pain and the hunger, the stink and the fear:

Grint's is empty save for the two of us. We're standing at the fruit crates; he's showing me how to choose a proper hakki fruit.

"You have to pick the soft ones. See, this one isn't ripe yet. Probably won't be ripe for weeks. Hard as a rock. This one is softer and smoother. And it has freckles."

I stare up at him, trying and failing to hold in a chuckle. "Are you going to eat it, or take it home and name it?" I pick up another hakki fruit and give it a good looking over. "This one has fuzz. I think it looks like a Peggary."

"Really?" He takes Peggary from me, giving her a once-over. "Aye, so it is. I knew a Peggary once... She made exactly this face when she was happy."

"What, round and expressionless?"

"Red. And a bit hairy..." 

On the other side of the bin, Eiranne began rocking, her chains clinking and creaking rhythmically in the gloom.

..........................................

AN: So... what think you?