Tigfy exhaled, descending the spiral staircase, hating every step. She hated this wide passage, soaked in despair and covered with the darkened remains of victims that had long since obscured the original color. Here, there was nowhere to hide; unlike the cramped confines of the air ducts, danger could approach from multiple directions, and sometimes she had nightmares that the filth caked on the walls grew so dense it would crush her.
But no one else would do anything. All those cowards who considered themselves warriors, licking Raoul's heels and turning a blind eye to his actions. Worthless, every last one of them—and she was among them. The bucket of water swayed in her paw as she opened the creaking gate to the only occupied cell. Prisoners didn’t stay long in these dungeons.
Perhaps this was the only mercy he ever granted.
The squeaking Softskins huddled in the corner of the cell, trying to shield the blind one, and chirped in their incomprehensible tongue. Some in the Nest knew their language. Tigfy had never bothered to learn it, ever since, as a small child, she had slipped into their settlement and caught the guards’ thoughts regarding their plans for her fate. No point in studying the language of a hostile species.
Not when emotions were enough.
Foreign fear, mainly for the crippled girl, flooded Tigfy’s mind. The captives also felt disgust and anger, but the primary component here was animal, all-consuming terror. No wonder; their pathetic vision saw poorly in the dark. She set the bucket on the floor, extended her paws palms forward, and bent her legs. Uncertainty joined the emotional mix. Right track. Tigfy leaned forward so they could see her face, and with her knuckles, hiding her claws, pointed to her eyes, then to the bucket, and to the healing herbs together with clean strips of fabric. She caught a faint hope and tossed the girl emanating that feeling a slice of cusack meat, pointing to her own mouth. Raising her hands, she tried to show she posed no danger.
Without pressing, Tigfy waited until the prisoners allowed her to approach. Raoul had severely maimed the girl, tearing out both eyes. Whether by accident or design, the sunburn had cauterized the bleeding wounds, easing Tigfy's work. Softskins sickened easily, so before applying the painkiller, she disinfected the wounds with herbs from the shop, mewing soothingly while the three girls chirped something to the wounded one. Finishing her work, she turned around, catching a burst of fear and pure rage.
"Why are you wasting time on meat?" Gaur growled, entering.
"Do you want to be the one to tell him why the prisoners died before receiving his attention?" Tigfy asked.
From the Malformed emanated waves of anger, hatred, and contempt, but only the latter was directed at her. Gaur's fingers writhed, their mouths clapping. This was bad. He wasn’t thinking about the consequences.
“I’m sick of having to tolerate the presence of Softskin vermin in our home.” Gaur bristled. “You should have seen how they burned my brother and parents. And for what? Over a metal deposit.” He spat and smiled. “One wounded. Three not. How fortunate to have a healer here. Three bites to honor the fallen…”
“Does it make you feel tough?” Tigfy asked. “Crippling those who did nothing to your family? Should have demonstrated such courage when your kin were in danger. It’s a tad too late now, urinato."
Now the hatred shifted direction, aimed exclusively at her. Gaur grabbed Tigfy, slamming her against the wall. She coughed, spat in his rage-contorted face, and grasped his flexible fingers, unable to budge them even slightly. Her small claws scratched the warrior's thick hide.
"You dare?!"
"You dare?" Tigfy mimicked him. "Dumbass, I'm saving your life! What will become of you once he finds out you've maimed his treasures—or the one tending to them?"
Uncertainty touched the girl's mind.
"Softskins drop dead from a simple draft. He doesn't care…"
"Incorrect assertion."
Swift strikes to the nerves in his elbows forced Gaur to release Tigfy. The massive warrior was hauled out of the cell in a single jerk, and the floor shook as fists pounded the out-of-place bully. A spatter of blood hit Tigfy's muzzle; she licked it off, calming herself with the pleasant taste. In the darkness outside, Gaur was lifted to the ceiling and hurled down, terrifying the shrieking prisoners and filling the corridors with a resounding echo.
"Never presume to decide for me. Have we reached an understanding?" A weak groan answered. "Clean yourself up and guard my girls. One dies, you die."
Greenish-red light lit the entire cell. Tigfy turned away, trembling in horror, feeling a dense wave of irresistible desire invading her brain. She wanted to lose consciousness, to hide from this flood of alien sensations drowning her own thoughts. Raoul's presence felt like the heat of molten magma; a cocktail of intent to maim, kill, exploit, humiliate, and hundreds of other emotional nuances tormented those gifted with mental influence.
His elongated snout touched her shoulder, and a wisp of vapor escaped through sharp fangs, dissipating before the prisoners. Raoul did not rest the weight of his head upon Tigfy; it would have broken her shoulder. He merely made contact, repulsing her with the current hue of his desire.
“Time moves in spirals, often repeating scenes from the past. Look at them, Tigfy. A century ago, I was in exactly the same situation, not understanding the language or why I was being hurt, while those like them watched me from the other side of the bars. Ah, fate, what a temptress you are.” The red-green pupil stared at her, blinding with light from such close range. Tigfy squeezed her eyes shut. “You pity them. Don’t. They won’t appreciate it. Not because they’re Softskins, but because different people can’t accept members of another tribe. I learned this lesson when the Regulators betrayed us and the Bloods at the end of the alliance we’d forged. Species decides everything.”
His paws rose above her, tracing patterns in the air. Behind each claw trailed a white haze—a scar upon reality—sprouting thin tendrils before inevitably vanishing into the restored fabric of the world. She shrank, knowing how irresistible these weightless lines were. No material could stop them.
“Don’t hurt me,” Tigfy begged her father, her whole body shaking.
“I never take back promises, even those given by the fault of a drunken stupor. As long as you are loyal, the fate of my daughter will not befall you." Raoul rubbed against her left cheek, entwining his fingers around her torso. “Tigfy, I care for you, teaching you the right things. When nothing external matters, you attain genuine peace.” He patted her on the back. “Thank you for your efforts. Keep them alive. I’ll figure out what is best: devour them or amuse myself after I sleep. And you should see Draa. Friends are beneficial for a girl of any age. He is not a bad boy at all. He’s naive, but I’ll correct that unworthy flaw.”
Raoul's presence vanished, restoring the familiar darkness, but Tigfy still sat for several minutes, arms wrapped around herself, trembling faintly. He intended to… She thought of her small, sharp claws, gathering her courage. They would suffice for slitting throats. Perhaps Gaur was wiser than her. A quick death from a single bite was preferable to the humiliating agony that could stretch on for weeks.
Tigfy allowed herself time to think, returning to her attempts to calm the prisoners, continuing to treat their scratches and burns, humming a song her brother had once sung to her.