The Warlord took a sedate pace back to the pack. Not because he wanted it to be easy on his newest little slave, but because he acknowledged that pushing her would mean he would have to carry her or abandon her. There was no point wasting the good supplies he’d paid. He’d gotten a discount of course, on account of the latest beating she had received. She was damaged goods, if she didn’t heal properly.

The pendant the slave masters had given him hung around his neck, swaying slightly with each step. He wasn’t entirely sure how it was supposed to keep her in line - it was pretty enough, with its sapphire set in the centre. He’d have to get someone to decipher the etchings at some point. Assuming his newly brought healer paid off long enough to keep her around, of course. When they entered the Col, he led her towards an empty den that sat just across the Col from his own den. There was already a bed sitting inside, and he dumped the bag of her healing supplies there. “Can you manage your injuries yourself, or do you need someone to look at them?” he said, addressing her for the first time since he had brought her.



"Speech"

How could the gods have abandoned her to such a cruel fate? This was the question that had been swimming in her head for the last several moons, but now more than ever it had resurfaced in Marina's mind from the moment she was led away from the ruthless monsters that had abducted her seasons ago by an even bigger and more monstrous wolf that she was now forced to call 'master'. The young fae's coat was disheveled and dirty, mussed up this way and that from numerous days of sleeping on nothing but hard earth and enduring beatings for behaving out of line. They had tried to break her spirit, tried to tame her like a wild mustang. She had not broken. Not for them, nor would she break for this beast now leading her to gods knew where. That was the mantra she repeated to herself over and over. She could not break. The moment she did, her life was over.

Marina hadn't said a word during the transaction, simply leering in steely silence at the males as they haggled over her—like goods, like a product. It made her skin crawl how easily and nonchalantly fellow wolves could engage in the flesh trade as if they weren't destroying lives over this. Oh, how she wished she could fight back. But fighting back was what had gotten her the last beating, the one that had sprained her hind leg. She could still walk fine, though if she put too much of her weight on it she'd have a noticeable limp, but she refused to show any pain or discomfort on her face. That's what they wanted, and she wasn't going to give them the satisfaction. Rina kept to herself as they walked back to the brute's home, his stench growing stronger the closer they got to what she assumed must have been his pack. Her nose wrinkled and turned up at the smell. It smelled like a prison to her.

Entering into a rocky mountain pass in some territories of some land she knew nothing about, Marina kept her head lowered but eyes turned up, taking in her surroundings. The only sound besides the soft footfalls of their paws on the hard ground was the gentle rattling of the metal chain of her pendant around the fucker's neck. The sound sent a chill down the femme's back. Of course the slavers would give her mentagion to her new jailer. They knew it was the one thing that actually kept her subservient. And if she hadn't stood a chance getting to back from those bastards, trying to take it from this unnatural behemoth of a wolf would be suicide. He led her into a den and when she followed him inside and only saw a bed within, her heart immediately sank, fearing the worst was about to happen. Was this the purpose he had purchased her for...? Not even the slavers had been cruel enough to lay a paw on her to defile her...

The giant wolf spoke to her for the first time, asking if she could manage her own injuries or if she needed assistance. Marina didn't look up at him when she simply responded, "I am capable of tending to myself, sir." She stepped her way past the giant wolf to the bed and the bag of medical supplies, settling her hind end carefully down so as not to agitate her leg or the lacerations still healing across her body. She winced as a pain ran up her leg, but quickly stifled any further reaction. She kept her eyes turned down; if there was one lesson she'd learned quickly it was that making eye contact was the fast lane to pissing off these egocentric brutes and getting a smackdown.

"Marina"

Hmm. The slavers had already done the hard word of beating discipline into her. She kept her head low, and spoke only when spoken to. Ignita could learn a thing or two from her. She headed to her bag of supplies, head down. He couldn’t see what she was thinking, but her answer was simple enough. He’d been curious what she would say, what she thought of her own abilities. Wylan was a child, and an idiot child at that, but he was also the only healer Basilisk trusted at the moment.

Regardless of what his new slave thought, it would be beneficial to get Wylan’s take on her abilities. “Hmm.” He said shortly, considering her for a moment. “Regardless, my healer will be by to assess when I can put you to work. Don’t try to leave this den today. Tomorrow, do not leave the Col. After that, your boundary will be the pack itself. Am I understood?” He said, pushing gently at the slave with his words. Looking to see where or how she might push back.


"Speech"

In truth, Marina had not been beaten into submissive discipline. Rather she had adapted to put on a facade that her captors wanted to see. They wanted her demure, obedient, submissive, but deep down the woman's spirit was a roiling maelstrom waiting for her opportunity to seize her freedom. She was smart enough to know that playing along meant less pain, and less pain meant more time to bide for her to think and to plan. This alpha may have thought he'd hit the jackpot with her. Oh, how wrong he was going to see he was when the time was right... He hummed and she could feel his gaze burning into her as if his eyes alone might immolate her where she sat. He was intense, and she just hoped that he had no interest in using her anytime soon; she wasn't exactly sure she was built to withstand the lusts of such a massive male...

The behemoth still had not introduced himself to her, but she supposed his name didn't matter. All the slavers before him simply wished to be called "master" or "sir", so she would continue to act as she had learned until told to act in some other way, and then her disguise would shift again. Her new master ordered her to remain in the den for the day, then within this territory the next day, and then within this new pack's territories in perpetuity. Marina tipped her head down, feigning a bow of understanding when in fact she was actually hiding a scowl. Great... He seemed like a real hard ass for rules and a control freak. Getting her mentagion away from him was going to be a lot harder than she anticipated, and even then an escape would be a miracle. Perhaps with enough time and attention, she could devise a way out of her imprisonment.

Then he dropped that he wanted a healer to come assess her and Marina's body visibly bristled at the thought of someone coming poking and prodding at her, testing her like she was a cut of meat. "Yes, sir. If that is what you wish," she responded through stiff jaws, just appeasing whatever he demanded until he left her alone to tend to herself. All she wanted was to be alone right now.

"Marina"

Basilisk gave his head a sharp nod, his mind made up. “He’ll be along soon” He said, though it sounded more like a warning. With that, the behemoth turned and left her to it. - Wylan had already learned how to put together a healer's bag, but he’d never done house calls before Basilisk had become Warlord. Now all his learning was being put to use. But practical was a great deal different to theoretical. He didn’t have his mother around to give him advice. In fact… he pushed that thought aside. If he thought about how it had felt to watch her walk away, he would bawl his eyes out. He couldn’t cry, he had a job to do! Putting on cheer like a cloak, the yearling made his way to the den Basilisk had indicated. He knocked on the outside of the cave before sticking his head in. “It’s just me!” he told the occupant within. “Err.. that’s to say, Wylan. I’m here to look at your injuries.” he said the last as he trotted inside, figuring he had given her ample warning. He put his medic bag down, and wiggled his tail at her. His wings were pressed to his side, and his eyes roamed around the cave until they settled on her. The moment they did, his tail increased in speed. “I’m Wylan!” He said. Again. “Mind taking a seat here and i’ll look you over?” "Speech"

As soon as Basilisk had left her alone in the den, Marina immediately reached for the medic bag he had left her with. The last thing she wanted was for some random stranger to be touching her again, so the more she could patch herself up before he got here, the less time she’d have to spend with her captors. The supplies inside the bag were… meager. It was clearly put together with the intentions of being a barebones triage kit. No major painkillers or potent herbs, nothing she could use to poison herself, just some bandages and mild astringents and painkillers. Marina scowled at the pitiful showing and set to work scarfing down the meadowsweet blossoms to help the aches in her limbs. The bandages would be all but useless except to maybe hide away the bruises, but Marina didn't care if they showed or not. Let them be a reminder to her new enslavers what those that had kidnapped her had put her through and know what she could endure.

As she was in the process of sorting through the rest of the first aid kit, the sound of rapping against the den entrance caught her attention and made her hair stand on end, alert eyes snapping to the door. Guard up, ready for anything. What she hadn't been ready for was the chipper call out of a younger wolf as he poked his head in, all smiles and bright eyes. What the fuck...? Marina was instantly suspicious and defensive as he came in, regarding him with guarded eyes and silence. Don't speak unless spoken to. The adolescent lad introduced himself as Wylan. His coat and colors were reminiscent of the unnaturally large wolf, and their scents were similar, but distinct. Relatives, maybe? Definitely not direct blood, but cousins or something similar perhaps. Marina remained taciturn as he entered and wagged his tail, so gods damned happy compared to her new master. And were those wings?! What the hell?!

A bag of medical supplies was dropped and Marina's brows instantly raised in surprise and doubt. This boy was the healer that was coming to check on her? Though she wasn't much older than he was, maybe a couple seasons at most, this whole pack relied on the talents of a veritable child to care for them? No wonder the giant had been so keen to learn of her own medical knowledge... Still, as he bid her sit for her examination, Marina wordlessly obeyed, rising to her paws and moving to sit where he had told her to, simply responding with, "As you wish, sir." He didn't seem anything like the other wolf, nor did he seem cruel or dangerous to her yet, but she knew that appearances were deceiving. He could very well have been putting on a facade to lower her guard.

"Marina"

“Oh no, please, just Wylan” he said as she addressed him as ‘sir’. Titles like that were for Basilisk and the like, not him! He thought, forgetting his position as Heir. He looked at her critically for a moment, noticing the bruises and scrapes she bore. She was looking pretty messed up, actually. “Let’s see… some aloe vera should help soothe those bruises” he said, pulling out some leaves. He made a cut, and drew some onto his paw, and leaned forward to wipe it onto her fur. Before he did so, he paused. “Mind if I…?” he indicated his paw. At her agreement, he spread it across her fur where it was needed. “You look like you’ve been in a fight. Any sprains, or difficulties walking or breathing?” he asked. Trying to get a feel for what was going on internally, as well. "Speech"

The boy—Wylan—insisted she just address him by his name instead of some title, and Marina's brain nearly broke. She looked up at him then, scrutinizing him with suspicious eyes. Every wolf she'd encountered since her enslavement had either been an asshole bent on using her to their purposes or a fellow slave. Why was he being so unsettlingly friendly to her? This had to be some sort of trick to get her to let her guard down. A 'good cop, bad cop' routine to make her more compliant. Well, she wouldn't be deceived so easily. She could see through that fake smile and happy-go-lucky facade. She would not let this Wylan character get the better of her. He was just another obstacle between her and her freedom.

His examination began, and quickly he deduced the bruises and lacerations would need aloe vera. Oh goodie, the torturer knew his way around basic medicines... She flinched and tensed up on reflex as he went to smear some of the fresh aloe onto her injuries, half expecting a strike to come at any moment. But it never did. Instead, he asked her permission to touch her, and again her suspicions rose. Lilac eyes stared dubiously at the larger male, trying to decipher what the hell he was up to. What game was he playing with her? But with no reason to deny her new master, she simply nodded wordlessly. The strike was surely coming now. Only... it didn't. Gentle paws began to rub the aloe into her skin, the cooling sensation immediately helping to soothe the aching bruises. Softening her up for whatever horror came next, no doubt.

Wylan asked if she was having difficulties walking or breathing, surmising that she'd been in a fight. "Something like that..." she murmured mostly to herself. Technically it could have been called a fight, if it was an entirely one-sided fight where she was held down and beaten until she couldn't even whimper anymore. "Everything hurts." The bruises on her chest where she'd been kicked ached with every breath, though fortunately no ribs were broken. Her hind leg had been dislocated and mediocrely reset by the slavers' medic. It would need to be properly set if it was to work without a limp. The litany of lacerations across her body would either heal or scar in time, but she wasn't worried about those. And as for her heart and soul... well, those were probably damaged beyond repair by now.

"Marina"

Wylan paused in his administration, bending down a little to look at her face, if not her eyes which she seemed reluctant to raise. “I’m really sorry, I should have offered you some pain meds first. I’m…” he shrugged his wings sheepishly “A little new at this. Did you want a hug?” He suggested. He spread his wings a little behind them and stretched them forward, indicating that a hug would have her enveloped in the soft feathers of his wings if she wanted it. If she accepted a hug, she would receive it. If she declined, he would move on to grabbing out a mixture of pain meds set into a paste with some honey to relieve the taste. “Here” he said, measuring out an amount. “This will help with the pain. What hurts the worst?” He asked, so he would know where to put his attention next. "Speech"

Wylan was quiet for a moment, and in that brief time it almost coaxed Marina into looking up to see what he was doing. Almost. She saw the giant wolf leaning down, trying to look her in the eyes. Was this another test? Marina kept her chin tipped down, her gaze vacant as she stared into the abyss of space between them, just waiting for this to be over. Wylan apologized, admitting his naivety to the medicinal arts. Great... she had a med school student tending to her. Did this pack not have any actual healers in it? Gods, was that why Basilisk had paid such a pretty penny for her? Marina's brooding was interrupted by Wylan's offer of... a hug? That got her attention on the double. Brow furrowed, eyes narrowing with suspicion as she finally peered up at the wolf's face, looking at him like he was some sort of freak that had asked her something obscene. His wings extended—seriously, how the hell did wolves even get wings?!—and Marina recoiled a little in reflex. What the hell was he...?

"No... thank you. I'm fine," Marina mumbled out, still not sure how to take this bizarre creature that was treating her. Fortunately, he didn't seem too offended, if at all, as he proceeded with his work. So he hadn't been testing her... not this time at least. He offered her a paste of honey mixed with herbs, and Marina eyed the mixture warily. Carefully smearing a bit of the paste onto one digit, she sampled a small amount of the mixture, testing which herbs in contained to see if he was trying to drug or poison her. She tasted the familiar florals of meadowsweet, and the grassy notes of boneset, but nothing else. Either he was a master of deception and had actually hidden a powerful tasteless sedative in the mix or he really was a naive boy with good intentions. Either way, the aching in her dislocated leg flared up around her hip, causing her to grit her teeth and wince. Like it or not, the medicine was going down the hatch.

Marina took the medicine and swallowed it down, hoping it would take effect soon. Wylan asked what hurt the worst and Marina gestured with a tip of her snout down to her back right leg. "My leg is dislocated. I can't set it by myself." Unfortunately, she would need to rely on someone else's paws if she didn't want to spend the rest of her life limping along. And those paws just so happened to be the inexperienced ones of a boy around her age. Gods, just take her already and end this nightmare...!

"Marina"

He waited until she took the meds, and when she indicated her leg he crouched down a little further to take a look at it. He didn’t touch it yet, waiting for the meds to work their magic so he wasn’t cruising her unnecessary pain. However, while he did examine it, he would realise something. “This has been poorly set!” He said in some surprise. Her beaten body, the mediocre care… “Was your pack abusing you? Is that why Basilisk brought you here?” He asked her softly, before turning and whistling behind him. A tiny round polar bear trotted into the room, and came to a stop beside Wylan. “I’m going to reset the leg, and then Bear here is going to help me put it into a splint. Are you ready?” he asked her gently. "Speech"

While she begrudgingly did as she was instructed to by the novice healer, Marina quietly reflected on every major moment that had led her to where she was now. How unlucky could one wolf get to wind up enslaved by pirates and sold off to sociopaths? How far away was her home now? She could scarcely remember how she had gotten here... How would she ever get back? While they waited for the medicine to kick in, Wylan examined her injured leg, Marina paying him no mind—until he made a passing comment about the slipshod job the slavers had done to set it and asked if her pack was abusing her. Marina's lilac eyes snapped over to Wylan, lightning flashing in those furious pools. Did he really think Basilisk had saved her?! That he'd rescued her and brought her back to the Armada for her own good?! Wylan had done nothing but make innocent assumptions, but his words had been the straw to break the camel's back, and now he was about to be on the receiving end of righteous fury.

"No, my pack did not abuse me. They were my life, my family, my everything. And I was stolen away from them and sold off to your high-strung upstart of an alpha because he wanted someone pretty to play doctor in his miserable pack at the ass end of nowhere. And now I'm never going to see them again. I'm never going to see my mother or my father or my sisters because your giant mutant freak of a leader likes to dabble in the flesh trade like the monster he is." Marina's words were spat out with the venom of someone so deeply and fundamentally wronged by life and by fate. They weren't specifically for Wylan, but the poor boy had made the fatal mistake of being the one nearby when her patience finally ran out.

Marina's chest was heaving by the time her tirade had concluded, the effort it took to lash out and vent her anger and pain exhausting her. When the painkillers finally did kick in, she was much too tired to try to resist Wylan anyway. She slumped back onto the bed, turning her head away from the lad to stare at the far wall. He warned her that he was about to reset her leg and apply a splint, but she didn't even acknowledge him. "Do what you have to..." she muttered and closed her eyes. Maybe if she was lucky, the shock would finally kill her.

"Marina"

Wylan blinked in surprise, leaning back and looking at the dark toned wolf as she suddenly exploded on him. Explaining how her pack was her life, and how she had wound up here. He didn’t know what to take from that. His own life had been so sheltered. He knew beyond a doubt that the wolves around him would protect him. That he could lean on them, and learn from them. The safety and security that came from that had led him to feel rather invincible. He knew about slaves, though he’d had nothing to do with them himself. There was Ignita, who was currently in Bas’ own den, recovering on a bear pelt. That Bas would be a part of what had taken this wolf’s life apart? “I’m sure he didn’t mean…” but he couldn’t really speak for the Alpha. “I’m sorry, Marina.” He said softly as he placed a paw gently on her leg. He pulled into place as quickly as he could to lessen the time she would spend in pain, and secured the splint with Bear’s help. “It’s not awful here, Marina.” He said, very softly. As if he too was pretending she was asleep. “You’ll see.” "Speech"

The shock and fright on Wylan's face made Marina feel good, like a catharsis of all her anger and pain to have someone—anyone—finally listen to her and feel something for her other than indifference or contempt. She wasn't some object to be bought, sold, or traded. She was a living, breathing wolf with a family, a home, a history, a name. No matter how much trouble it got her in or how much pain it brought to her life, she refused to be silent on that fact. She wanted to remind the wolves that contributed to her misery every day of what they were doing and who they were doing it to. But poor Wylan had clearly been blind to the truth. The way he recoiled when she yelled and the way he looked at her didn't lie. He'd been naive to the real reasons why she had ended up in the Armada.

Wylan started to make some sort of excuse for that sorry mockery of a wolf that led this pack, but whether for a lack of having a good argument or for knowing he couldn't say anything to make this better, he shut up. Instead, he just apologized. Marina didn't respond, but the bristling of her fur did settle a bit. Or it did, until Wylan jerked and twisted her leg back into place. The pain was as immediate as the crunching sound of the ball join popping back into place. Marina let out a sharp scream and then bit down on her own leg to silence herself. Don't let them hear how much they're hurting you. Muffled growls and groans of agony uttered around the flesh in her mouth, her fangs biting into her skin as she gritted her teeth and bore the pain. Then, as the splint was set, sweet, sweet relief began to wash over her. That dull ache in her leg slowly ebbed away. It would take some time, but she was on the mend.

Marina continued to just stare at the wall all the while Wylan worked, and when he finished and tried to reassure her that things weren't terrible here, she just curled in on herself and covered her face with her fluffy tail. "Just leave me alone... please..." Marina curled tighter on herself, hoping he'd just listen to her and leave. She didn't want him to be here to see the way the tears were rolling down her cheeks, her face hidden away from the world by her tail, as if she could pretend all of this was a bad dream.

"Marina"

It was wrong to Wylan on many levels to walk away from her, but he knew as a healer that he had to respect her wishes, too. He stood there for a moment in indecision, before leaning forward. He kissed whatever part of her forehead he could reach, and stepped quickly backwards again. “I’ll be back in a short bit, and then I’ll leave you alone for the night. I promise.” He told her, before trotting out of the den. He took perhaps an hour to assemble everything he needed. From some honey flavoured food, to some sweets he had made himself. A couple of warm coats from his fathers den - hopefully Mortis wouldn’t notice immediately - and lastly, a bottle of alcohol from his mothers stash. He didn’t know exactly what would comfort Marina, so he grabbed a little bit of everything. Food, sweets, alcohol, warmth. Lastly, he grabbed his own soft toy. It was made out of possum fur, and resembled his polar bear in the sort of cartoonish style of a kids toy. It was soft to snuggle, and brought him comfort. Properly equipped for battle this time, he returned to her den. He knocked on the door, and crept in, uncertain what sort of reception he would receive. He placed everything down just in view of her in a pile, and then turned and started to trot away again -exit unless stopped- "Speech"

There was a pause, a lull as the silence took them over as Marina tried to pretend she was anywhere but here and Wylan was doing…whatever it was Wylan was doing. She didn’t want to look up at him to see. She didn’t want to look at anybody right now. He said that he would be right back and then he’d leave her alone for he night. Thank the gods, at least he listened better than that big blue bastard did. Marina felt the touch of his kiss to her forehead and visibly flinched at the touch on reflex. Wylan left and was gone for a while, more than Marina expected. At some point she wondered if perhaps he had just decided not to come back. Feeling a little bit of safety in her solitude, the marine-hued fae slowly uncurled herself and turned to face the opposite wall, sniffling quietly while she waited for sleep to take her.

But then she heard paws coming into her den again and the sound of things being set down before quiet claimed the den once more. There were no words, no attempts at unwanted conversation. Just a quiet drop off and then nothing. Marina’s ear flicked, but she didn’t move—not right away at least. When a couple minutes had passed, she cautiously lifted her head and peeked back over her shoulder to see… nobody. A pile of supplies sat near the doorway, but Wylan had kept to his word and had left her alone. Marina rolled back over and winced as she slowly raised herself up on her paws, hobbling over to the supplies he'd left to inspect them. There were sweets and furs, a bottle of something dark and smelled strongly of alcohol, and a stuffed polar bear. Marina eyed the pile with suspicion. Why was he being so damn nice to her?

It was a direct defying of her orders, but Marina shuffled over to the den entrance and poked her head outside, but Wylan was already gone. She slunk back into the den, shuffling through the items he'd left and lifted the polar bear up, looking over the well-crafted yet totally childish memento. And yet, despite how juvenile it was, Marina couldn't help but hold the stuffed toy close. It reminded her of home, of her own plush toys she'd never see again, sitting alone and forlorn in an empty bedroom in a den far, far away. Fresh tears welled up in her eyes and Marina carried the toy with surprising care over to her bedding, where she collapsed down onto the bed with the polar bear clutched close to her chest until she finally passed out into an uneasy sleep.

"Marina"