Bloodied and bruised.

It was well past midnight when Zoria heard movement outside. She was too fatigued with worry to sleep, even though the other women had told her that she needed her strength. The flap to the tent opened, filling it with dull orange light, before three large shadows fell over her. By his arms, two of the camp leader's guards dragged a thoroughly beaten Grok into his tent, a string of bloody drool hanging limply from his jaw.

Zoria jumped up to her feet, to run to him, when one of the women stopped her. The other pointed towards his bed, and the guards grunted and nodded, pulling him there. They put him on it and Zoria broke free, coming right to his side. She touched him all over, seeing all the fresh wounds he had filling her with grief. "Grok, Grok, what happened? What they do you?" she gasped, holding his head. Creaking open one bloodshot eye, he groaned weakly. His lips moved, but no sound came out of him, before he slipped into unconsciousness.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, and she turned to see one of the women looking at her solemnly. "You should be proud," she said, coaxing her to her feet, while looking over to her keeper's guards, waiting patiently at the entrance. "They said that he was completely silent during his decimation. Not many have ever done that. And for his bravery for confessing his crime, the leader has granted him a quarter of the victim's loot."

"His crime? His victim? Loot?" Zoria parroted, completely dumbstruck at their skewed justice. "I, I, I don't care about any of that! I, I, I,-"

"Yes, you do," she returned sternly, grabbing her shoulders, and frowning deeply at her. Lowering her voice, she spoke quickly. "You know how these people work, girl. How they think. How they see each other. Do you see what Grok has done? What he's been through for you? What they now think of him? And you?" Zoria balked and swallowed hard, her mind piecing things together, before she nodded in understanding. "Then you know what you need to do," she concluded, before brushing some lint off her shoulder. "Now, let's see if we can find you something more suitable to wear than a sheet."

The next morning, she made her way back to Hrew's tent, head held high, and found his tent-mates fighting over his things. Taking in a deep breath, she barked at them. "Hey! Where Grok's loot? Bring to me. Now!" They both turned to see who had dared give them orders, but recognizing her and seeing the dark expression on her face, they reconsidered. Taking a few steps back, they cleared the way for her to look into Hrew's things. She scowled at them, displeased at their impertinence, before going through Grok's claim.

Finding what she felt were the most useful or valuable loot, she dumped it onto the floor between the two youngsters. "This Grok loot now," she declared, looking them both in their disheartened and sullen faces. "You want?" she asked, to which they both immediately nodded. "Good. I give. But first, you follow me. Take weapons," she ordered, striding out of the tent towards the camp's gates without waiting for a response.

Her heart beat faster and faster in her chest as she approached, and as expected, the one that was on guard blocked her way with his spear. "You not allowed outside alone," he grunted, narrowing his eyes at her from under his too small helmet.

"Me not alone," she countered, as hurried footsteps trotted up behind her. "Them my guards," she said, throwing her thumb over her shoulder. "They follow while I find herbs to heal Grok. They make sure I no run."

The guard growled under his breath, suspicious of her words, and then suddenly snapped to attention and saluted. Zoria heard her escort snap and salute as well, and when she turned around, she saw that the camp leader had arrived as well. Leaning down quite steeply, he studied her face. "You Grok's prize," he said simply. Zoria swallowed nervously at this gigantic person in intimidating armor, but stood her ground and nodded. "You want find herbs to heal Grok?" he asked.

Again, she nodded.

The leader straightened up, engulfing her in his shadow. Spreading his arms out wide, he addressed his people in a loud booming voice, telling them that she had three days to come-and-go as she pleased, in recognition of her keeper's strength and devotion, and if she was disturbed during this time, that they would have to answer to him, directly. There was a murmur of agreements and the clang of salutes, before he stooped down to her again. "Go East. Find River. Plants there good for humors," he advised, before continuing on with his day.

Letting out a breath she didn't know she was holding, Zoria shook her head and made her way in the direction he said, her bought guards hurrying to keep up behind her.