Yara followed Basilisk out into the cool night, the weight of the bedding and food bag pressing against her shoulders. The silence between them was heavy, but Yara welcomed it; it gave her time to think and plan. As they walked through the Col, her mind buzzed with thoughts of escape. She mapped out the paths they took, noting landmarks and potential hiding spots. Each step was a rehearsal for the day she would make her break for freedom.
When they approached a den, Basilisk turned to her and spoke. “Inside this den is a wolf called Ignita. You will obey her commands as if they are my own. Any disrespect, any hurt to her I will deliver to you tenfold.” His warning was clear, but Yara's thoughts were elsewhere. She kept her gaze low, but inside, her mind churned with possibilities and contingencies.
As they stood outside the door, waiting for Ignita to respond, Yara couldn't help but let her thoughts drift to Basilisk. The brute was imposing, his dominance clear and unwavering. It was a shame he was taken; she might have used her charm to flirt her way out of this predicament. But with Ignita in the picture, that route was closed off. She would have to rely on her wits and resilience instead.
Her mind wandered back to the idea of escape. She needed to learn the ways of the Armada, understand their routines and weaknesses. The promise of being taught to read could be a double-edged sword, providing her with the means to understand their laws and rules but also binding her closer to this place. She would have to tread carefully, using every opportunity to gather information and bide her time.
