Confirmation

They were taken to a small cabin at the edge of the settlement. Two guards remained outside the door. Inside there were two beds, a table, a basin of clean water, and a small fire already lit. It was more than they had seen since leaving Blackthorn, but Bonita did not let herself relax.

She sat the girls on the nearer bed and checked each of them again. Mira’s face was still set in that careful expression she had worn since the ceremony. Lila’s eyes were swollen from earlier tears. The twins stayed pressed together. The baby slept for now, but her breathing was lighter than Bonita liked.

The healer returned before full dark. She brought clean cloths, a mild tonic, and fresh wraps. She examined Bonita a second time without unnecessary talk.

“The bleeding has slowed, but it will worsen if you keep moving around,” the woman said. “You need to stay off your feet as much as possible for the next few days. The child is small but stable. Keep her warm and fed.”

Bonita nodded. She did not thank her. Gratitude felt premature.

When the healer left, food came again—more than before. The girls ate. Bonita forced herself to finish what she was given. Strength mattered more than pride.

After the plates were cleared, Mira spoke in a low voice. “Do you think he’ll send us away when he hears back from Blackthorn?”

“I don’t know,” Bonita said. “We prepare for either answer.”

Lila looked up. “What if they come for us? Papa’s people.”

“Then we deal with it when it happens.” Bonita kept her tone steady. “Right now we rest and stay together. That is all we can control.”

The twins fell asleep first, curled against each other on the bed. Lila followed after a while, one hand still resting on Bonita’s dress. Mira stayed awake longer, sitting upright with her back against the wall, watching the door. The baby woke once to feed and then slept again.

Bonita remained sitting, back against the headboard, the newborn in the curve of her arm. Her body ached deeply. Every shift reminded her how recently she had given birth and how far she had walked. She did not close her eyes for long.

Near the middle of the night the baby began to fuss and would not settle. Her small face flushed. Bonita felt her skin and found it warmer than it should be. She sat up fully, heart beating harder, and tried to cool her with a damp cloth. The child continued to cry in short, weak bursts.

Mira woke at the sound. “What’s wrong with her?”

“She’s warm,” Bonita said. “Too warm.”

She did not wait. She went to the door and spoke through it to the guards. “I need the healer. The baby has a fever.”

One of the men left at once. The other remained. Minutes passed. The baby’s crying grew thinner. Bonita walked the small space of the cabin, rocking her, whispering nothing particular, only sound to keep her from the silence.

The healer came quickly this time. She examined the child under the lamp light, her expression serious but controlled.

“Exposure and stress,” she said. “Her body is small and she has been through too much too soon. I will give her something to bring the fever down. You must keep her close and continue feeding her. If it rises again before morning, call for me immediately.”

Bonita held the baby while the medicine was given. The child resisted at first, then quieted into exhausted sleep. The healer left more of the tonic and clear instructions. When she was gone, Bonita sat on the edge of the bed and did not put the baby down.

Mira sat beside her. “Will she be all right?”

“She has to be,” Bonita answered.

She stayed awake the rest of the night, checking the child’s temperature with her hand every short while. The fever lowered but did not disappear completely. Lila and the twins slept on. Mira dozed and woke in turns, always looking first at the baby.

When morning light came through the small window, footsteps approached the cabin. The door opened. The man from the main building stepped inside, followed by the tall one who had found them in the forest. His eyes moved over the room, then settled on Bonita and the infant in her arms.

“The healer told me about the fever,” he said. “How is she now?”

“Lower than it was,” Bonita said. “Not gone.”

He looked at the child for a moment, then at the other girls who were beginning to wake. His expression remained hard to read.

“I received word from Blackthorn,” he said. “Your account matches what is being said there. Alpha Drogo rejected his Luna and five daughters three nights ago and ordered them out of the territory. The new Luna has already taken her place.”

Bonita waited. Confirmation did not mean safety.

He continued. “That does not remove the risk of having you here. Drogo may not care where you went, or he may decide your survival is an insult he cannot ignore. I will not endanger my people for a matter that is not ours.”

Mira’s hand tightened on the blanket. Lila watched with wide eyes.

Bonita spoke before he could finish. “Then tell us how long we have before you send us on.”

He met her eyes directly. “You and the children will remain here until the baby’s fever is fully broken and you are strong enough to travel without collapsing. After that I will decide whether you leave with supplies and an escort to the far border, or whether another arrangement is made. Until then the rules stay the same. You do not leave this cabin without permission. My people will not interfere with you, but they will not answer your questions either.”

He glanced once more at the baby, then at Mira’s set face.

“If the fever rises again, use the guards. Do not wait.”

He turned and left. The tall man followed. The door closed. The guards resumed their places outside.

Bonita looked down at the child in her arms. The small face was still too warm. She adjusted the cloth and held her closer.

Mira’s voice was quiet. “He doesn’t trust us.”

“He shouldn’t,” Bonita said. “We don’t trust him either. We take the time they give us and nothing more.”

She checked the baby’s skin again and prepared to feed her. The cabin stayed silent except for the soft sounds of the children and the low crackle of the fire.