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The metal of the cuffs chafed in spite of the gloves covering Amaya’s wrists. Almost as much as the sweat building underneath her shirt as the sun beat down on her ferociously, or the blisters on her feet from the ground she had covered over the last two days.
The journey brought many discomforts, but none were more severe than the endless complaining of her stomach. It had begun before she had even been taken captive. The day she destroyed the breech was long and hard, and she hadn’t eaten much. That combined with the exertion of fighting off the sunfire elves already had her feeling lightheaded, and the feeling was made worse by the creatures’ refusal to feed her.
So that’s how it is, elf? I save you from falling into a river of lava and this is how you thank me for it?
To be fair, she didn’t suppose the elves had any sense of honor, and she had killed a few of their soldiers. It was only natural that they would treat her so cruelly.
She struggled to keep pace with her captors, her dizziness and nausea made worse by the sweltering heat. It almost made her thankful her armor had been confiscated. It would have only intensified the sweating.
Still, despite her weakness, she flatly refused to give the monsters the satisfaction of seeing her collapse, though the temptation was strong when one of them noticed her sluggish movements and responded with a harsh shove to the back. She doubted the heat had much of an effect on them. It might’ve been magic, or maybe just the fact that they were accustomed to it, and their clothing was specially designed to protect against heat. Whatever the reason, they didn’t seem bothered at all.
She looked up and saw that an elf at the front of the pack was struggling to carry her shield. She got some sick satisfaction out of that, though it didn’t detract from the stabbing pain in her stomach whatsoever.
She gritted her teeth and kept moving, one foot in front of the other. The elves could not walk forever, and they would eventually have to set up camp again. At least then Amaya would be able to sit down, and have a few hours’ rest from the drudgery of this awful walk, even if it was under the watchful eye of a wrathful horned beast.
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Another night spent chained to a tree. Just what Amaya needed.
The leader was there, her lips moving in a pattern Amaya couldn’t quite read in the darkness. Not that it mattered. The creature had nothing interesting to say. Just something about rewarding her with food if she stopped disregarding orders and offered up information.
She thought Amaya was being defiant.
That was fine. Even if Amaya could communicate with her hands bound behind her, the elves wouldn’t have been pleased with what she had to say. She had spent much of the walk ruminating on which vile insults would be most appropriate if her captors ever decided to free her hands. They might just kill her outright once they saw what she had to say. The thought didn’t frighten her. At least she’d get to laugh in their faces before she met her end, instead of just wilting away from lack of food.
The leader was in her face now, and Amaya could make out an infuriated Speak! as droplets of spit landed on her cheek.
Amaya spit back, earning herself a rough kick to her already shriveled, aching stomach. There was gold, or something like it, at the tip of the elf’s boot that made it hurt more than it should have, and Amaya felt the urge to dry heave. She caught it in her mouth before it could spill onto the ground beneath her. She would not let the monster get the best of her.
Finally, the leader stalked away, leaving Amaya alone except for a single guard. She used what little range of movement she had to lay down facing away from the campfire. It wasn’t comfortable by any means, but she was too exhausted to care.
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Morning again, and Amaya was still running on empty. Her thoughts were muddled, her movements lethargic. She was so tired her pride hardly even mattered. It was the third day since her last meal. She had never gone without this long before. She struggled against the cuffs, wishing for a way to communicate. To - stars help her - to beg for something. Anything. Even a handful of berries might be enough to keep her from collapsing.
She felt a rough hand on her shoulder, likely from someone who had noticed her struggling, and she flinched away as best she could. Her feet were unsteady, however, and no amount of stubbornness could keep her from pitching forward and dashing her already aching head against the ground.
There were more hands on her, and someone turned her over. The leader, probably, judging by the red locks Amaya could make out in spite of her blurred vision.
Great. Now I can’t see correctly. That’s two senses gone.
The shape’s lips were moving, but Amaya didn’t have the energy to read them. This frustrated the creature more, and she felt herself being shaken roughly. The absurdity of her situation finally hit. Here she was, starving, sweating, held captive by elves, and she was going to die here, all because they were too stupid to understand that she couldn’t meet their demands even if she wanted to.
She began to laugh silently, her gut aching worse with the force of it, hysteria taking over only because she did not have a single drop of energy left in her to try to maintain a stern facade. Her vision grew blurrier, her head pounding as her eyes slowly drew closed.
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The leader was there again when she awoke. Though this time, she didn’t look so angry. She had lowered herself to Amaya’s level, looking her directly in the face.
She held up a small round something to Amaya’s face, and Amaya was helpless to resist. She opened her mouth and let the monster place it in, far too desperate to be humiliated or cautious.
There were more. A whole bowl of them when she looked down. She almost wanted to cry. Berry after berry was placed into her mouth. She was not remotely concerned with the taste. She was only concerned with the glorious feeling of finally having a sated stomach again.
Her mind became clearer as she ate, and it occurred to her that she was allowing herself to be spoon-fed like a child by a sunfire elf of all people. It was too late to be defiant, however, as all the berries were gone.
The elf grabbed her chin and forced her to meet her dark brown eyes. You can’t hear, can you? Amaya read. She almost wanted to refuse to answer, but something told her this might be the only way to keep herself from being starved again. She shook her head lightly.
The elf sighed. I don’t know why you saved me, but I am grateful for it. We will begin your interrogation when we get back to Lux Aurea. Until then, you will be fed. She stood up and left without another word.
Amaya was shaken by the display. Mercy. From an elf? Maybe she was still asleep, and the food had been nothing more than the fevered dream of a starving woman.
I don’t know why you saved me.
Amaya didn’t either. It wouldn’t have changed anything. She’d still be a captive, and there would be one less sunfire elf in the world. A net gain, by all means.
For as much as Amaya hated the creature, there was something captivating about her. The markings on her face, maybe, or the rows and rows of red locks spilling down her back. Or the graceful way she moved when the two were locked in battle. She was a sophisticated fighter, for an elf.
It still didn’t make sense though. Her physical prowess only made her a greater threat. All the more reason to let her die.
Amaya shook away her thoughts. That day had been a long one, the night before largely sleepless. The heat of the moment must have made her lapse in judgment.
It didn’t matter now. What was done was done.
Her hunger had subsided, and for the moment, she was alright.