In a blink he was gone. Granted, my blinks had gradually begun to lengthen until one lowering of the lids led to complete unconsciousness.
I sat up in the bright tent, gathering my wits and the blanket around me as I searched the empty tent for the missing grayskin. Not moments later, he waltzed in, accompanied by a delicious aroma.
"Welcome to the morn," he said as he set down a plate in front of me.
The smell distracted me from his twist on one of our common greetings and the sight made my eyes widen.
It was meat. And potatoes. Was that gravy?
I dragged my eyes away from the feast to attempt a hardened look at the deliverer, lifting my head high before speaking. "I don't want your food."
Before he could respond, my stomach gave a loud squeal of denial. My lips tightened as I held my stern gaze.
His amusement didn't rise to full blown laughter, but was well apparent on his lopsided, upcurved lips. "You are malnourished if not outright starved. You need to eat."
My eyebrows dropped indignantly. "I'm not eating anything I don't know the origin of."
An eyebrow rose. "Do you expect me to poison you? Why would I keep you only to poison you?" After a brief pause he added, "You have no reason to distrust me."
Utter disbelief made me drop my carefully crafted expression. "You killed my entire team?"
He blinked. "Ah." Now his face changed also, perhaps understanding my shock. "If it's any solace," he said slowly, carefully, "they didn't kill all of them. I made sure a few managed to escape."
My lips parted. And now I blinked. I need to say something. What do I say to that? "I... wha-"
"There is clothing there for you to dress in, after you finish breakfast." His eyes were on the pile of fabric to his right, staying there without a hint of the smile from before. "We will be leaving shortly, so try not to dawdle." His head bowed faintly, as if to give a nod to a lower cadette before he turned to leave, then paused. "Oh, before I forget," he said, reaching a hand into his pocket. He placed the item he had retrieved from it upon the stack of clothing and then left without another word.
It took a rather long moment for my freedom of movement to return, though it was stunted by unclear thoughts. My hands were reaching for the plate before I fully wanted them to, and then the metal spoon was in my mouth.
All questions and concerns vanished, and I begged them to stay away as I enjoyed the warmest, most uplifting, beautiful meal I may have ever had the pleasure to partake in. The mouthful of liquidy potatoes and unseasoned meat combined with the greasiness of the gravy unraveled me in ways I would find reprehensible in any other circumstance. I moaned obscenely as I absorbed the taste of that first mouthful. Maybe two or three more bites were granted the same treatment before I could barely hold the contents in my mouth long enough to so much as chew before swallowing.
After inhaling the rest of the meal, I was ready to dress, wary of when the tent would be coming down to expose me to every grayskin in this damned caravan.
As I approached the clothing, I finally realized what he had placed there. It sat upon the fabric, folded approximately four times into an almost even rectangle. My mouth went dry, recognizing it the moment my eyes landed on the faded symbology I had only discovered yesterday.
Swallowing, I decisively brushed the paper aside to access the garments.
The clothing he had mentioned was not mine. He must have thrown what little I had out with the trash, or if he was kind, maybe he set it aside for cleaning. This, however, must have belonged to one of the grayskins. I don't know if it would be better or worse if they belonged to Grysn or another.
Putting the thought from my head, I pulled the very large pants up my legs.
These weren't the pants the I had seen any of the grayskins wear. This fabric was lighter, held up by a drawstring rather than buttons. Holding them at my hips, I knew if I let go, they'd drop easily to the floor. With a heavy sigh, I began pulling the drawstring out, cinching the material as I went until the material was sufficiently bunched around my waist with only a small risk of falling.
The shirt was easy. It was a simple short sleeve shirt, comfortable and loose like the bottoms. These items must be either underclothing or sleep wear. Though, with the nudity I had already witnessed, neither seemed entirely correct.
Sitting down on the mound of blankets I had discarded upon getting up, I looked up to the peak of the canopy, thankful there was no mirror here. No doubt I looked ridiculous. My hands came up to my braid. The frizz tickled my fingers as I blindly examined the state of it. I dreaded pulling it apart and redoing it. It would be fine for a few more days.
I groaned and dropped my head. My gaze once again on the old papers he had left me.
What did he mean? Who survived? And why? They were supposed to kill us. That's what they do. So why not kill me?
I knew, assuredly now, that what most our records explained about grayskins was somewhat unreasonable, maybe even glamorized. I could understand where much of that info came from now. But this Grysn one, he wasn't acting at all the way grayskins are supposed to. Were there others like him, also? He wasn't the standard, but the fact he acted the way he did at all changed everything. Didn't it?
Shila, please, could you spare a few explanations? Real ones, not the ones I make up to relieve my curiosity.
I reached over to the folded notes, holding it in my hands. What use was this paper to beasts like them? Doubtful they'd even know how to read. Why give it to me, though? My brow creased as I wondered if he had seen, if he and his troops, as well as everyone in my team...
Had they all seen me be so distracted by a meaningless piece of scratch paper in the most crucial time of my life?
"Come here."
I looked up to Grysn holding the entry flap open. Flushed, I scrambled to my feet and stuffed the paper into a pant pocket. I walked over as he let the canvas fall close behind him. He pulled my hands together in front of me, and seeing the length of rope in one hand, I realized with annoyance what was happening.
It made sense. It wasn't exactly reasonable to keep a prisoner free amongst her captors.
Trying to keep my pouting to a minimum, I allowed him to once again bind my hands together. At least this time they wouldn't be behind my back.
"Are you always gonna have me tied up?" I asked, my voice soft but harsh.
His movements slowed for only a second as he continued his knotwork. "Of course not, but it's safer for you to be restrained until we arrive home."
"For me?"
He nodded, not looking up.
I held my tongue. His silence was much less helpful than his typical talkativeness in this moment. Was this because of the comment I made earlier?
Straightening, he led me out of the tent. I flinched in the direct sunlight as he pulled me along by my binds, not waiting for me to adjust to the brightness.
