She shall be yours now.

You step out from the shadows of the two trees and into the clearing, making yourself known at last. Shreya does not notice you at first; she is kneeling over her brother's lifeless body, weeping uncontrollably, still in shock from what has just unfolded. Her sorrow fills the air, but you move past it, eyes fixed on the pouches near the dying fire. Inside, you find a Gunstock war club, food enough for four days, and a rope. Without hesitation, you take the rope and approach her.

When you are barely two meters away, she looks up, startled, her tear-filled eyes wide with terror.

“W-Who are you?” she stammers, confusion and fear twisting her voice.

You do not answer. In a swift motion, you close the distance. She screams, her voice shrill and panicked. You seize her wrists and bind them tightly with the rope, her struggles meaningless against your superior strength. She thrashes, screams again, but it is futile. You tie the rope to your belt, securing her, then return to the pouches to plunder their contents.

As you finish, you notice the bird roasting over the fire is ready. You tear it in half, holding one portion in your hand.

“Where are the others?” you ask, calm, methodical.

“The others?” Shreya repeats, confused and trembling.

“The other Greensnakes,” you clarify, “Where is their camp? I assume it’s further south, but I can’t be certain.”

Her eyes narrow. “Why should I tell you?” she snaps, defiance flickering in her voice.

“Good question,” you reply, examining the half-bird in your hand. “I think I won’t give you any food until you do.” You extend the portion towards her. “So, will you eat today or not?”

Her eyes widen in disbelief. “Why are you doing this?”

“Just tell me where the camp is,” you say again, as if it were the simplest request in the world.

Her face hardens. Rage flashes through her features. “Fuck you,” she spits, voice shaking with fury. “You killed Rikam, you monstrous bastard. And Pram… sweet, kind Pram…” Her voice breaks, and fresh sobs rack her body.

You let out a quiet laugh to yourself. She will yield, eventually. Hunger has a way of breaking even the strongest spirit.

You sit down and eat your half of the bird right in front of her, savoring each bite slowly, deliberately. She watches in silence, her face streaked with tears. Once finished, you rise to your feet and begin walking, pulling her along behind you. Eastwards.

The Greensnake main camp is likely further south, but you are no fool. You know that alone, with a Greensnake prisoner in tow, you cannot hope to face an entire tribe. The east is safer, towards the other great river, the one Grandma called the Muddy River. There are people there, other tribes, a world unknown to you but full of possibility.

As you walk, you consider Shreya’s fate. She is, in every sense, your captive now. A ****. You could keep her—use her as a concubine, perhaps, to bear children. The idea of mixing Strongwolf blood with that of a Greensnake feels repulsive, but oddly thrilling. After all, it was Greensnake hands that brought your people to the brink of extinction—perhaps it will be Greensnake wombs that help restore the Strongwolf bloodline.

The thought lingers in your mind as you press eastward, into the unknown.