Chapter 5

Elsie’s POV

"She has humongous tits," a hairy, buff man shouted, his voice echoing off the canvas walls of Tent 42. He was leaning back on his bedroll, a crude grin plastered on his face. "As she rode me, they were flapping in my face like great balloons!"

He finished his sentence with a roar of laughter that shook his entire frame. The other men in the tent joined in immediately. They were booing and jeering rancorously, slapping their knees and trading elbow nudges as if this was the most entertaining story they had ever heard.

Another voice rang out above the din. It belonged to a lanky man with a mean face. "There was this one I was pretty sure was a virgin," he bragged, leaning forward. "Or at least not properly broken into. My dick got to be too much for her and she tried to get away, but I held her in place so she’d have to take all of it."

He laughed too, a twisted, ugly sound.

The roars of approval boomed loudly, filling the cramped space. I wanted to puke. I looked down at my hands, squeezing them into fists to hide their shaking. 

Was this really what males said about females when they were in groups like this? Was there not a single man here who had a female he loved, or at least one he respected? 

I couldn't help it. I looked up and shot lasers at the lanky big dick wannabe who had spoken last. My gaze was cold and filled with all the disgust I was currently feeling.

He caught my glare instantly. He felt challenged, his laughter dying down as he stood up and placed his hands on his waist. He raised a brow, looking down at me with a sneer.

"Hey, pipsqueak," he said loudly, drawing the attention of the others. "Got a problem?"

I didn't blink. I held his eyes for a second or two longer than was probably safe, letting the silence stretch. I wanted him to know that I wasn't afraid of him one bit. But I also knew I couldn't afford a brawl on my first night. I grabbed my heavy cloak from my bag and stood up, exiting the tent without saying a word.

The sun had set already, and the camp was bathed in the flickering orange light of torches. 

The air was crisp, leaning toward cold. I realized this was my best chance. Everyone else had bathed earlier in the evening, but I hadn't dared to join them. I needed to wash the days of travel off my skin.

I made my way toward the designated bath spot, but when I got there, I realized just how screwed I was. The bath house was just an open space with thin, tattered sheets serving as partitions. 

There were no doors, no locks, and barely any privacy. There was a central tap and several wooden buckets, but that was it. If someone barged in here, I would be found out and kicked out before I even got the chance to settle in.

I stood there for a moment, frustrated, until I remembered hearing the sound of running water earlier when we marched in. I began to search the perimeter of the camp, keeping to the shadows. This camp was truly massive. I estimated it would take at least an hour just to walk the entire length of it.

Finally, I found what I was looking for. A small stream flowed past the eastern edge of the Hold, hidden behind a thick curtain of trees. It looked safe enough. I scanned the area, listening for footsteps, but all I heard was the wind in the leaves and the distant murmur of the camp.

I set about preparing for the bath with frantic movements. I took off my outer layers, but I left my undershirt on. Anything could happen out here, and I wasn't about to be caught completely naked. I stepped into the water. It was nicely cool, sending a shiver through my body that felt incredibly refreshing after days of grime.

I bathed quickly, scrubbing the mud from my neck and arms. Despite the danger, I couldn't resist playing a bit, letting the water swirl around my waist before I emerged and dried off. I moved fast, fixing my scent pouch back onto my waist and pulling my mask over my face.

Just as I was gathering my cloak, I heard a rustle in the trees.

My heart fell straight to my stomach. 

I froze, my lungs seizing. Was someone here?

I looked around cautiously, my eyes darting through the dark trunks. Suddenly, a rabbit burst from the undergrowth, sprinting past my feet. I wasn't expecting it, and I jumped, losing my balance on the slippery bank. My heavy cloak slipped from my fingers and fell into the rapid part of the stream. Before I could grab it, the current snatched it away, and it vanished into the dark night.

"No," I whispered, panic rising. Having no means of warmth in a place this cold was a death sentence. I made to chase after it, stepping toward the deeper water.

"Don't be stupid."

The voice was low, with a pitch that seemed to slice through the air. It sounded like the person either hated speaking or was incredibly reluctant to speak to me specifically. It was the deepest voice I had ever heard.

My head whipped around, my eyes searching the darkness. I saw nothing. I tried to seek out a scent, but the breeze was blowing hard from behind me, carrying any smell away into the forest.

"Return to camp," the voice came again.

I looked up. The sound was coming from above. I squinted at a tall, ancient tree nearby. Somewhere high in the branches, a figure was perched, but they were completely obscured by the thick leaves and the shadows of the night. I couldn't see a single feature, but the voice was so commanding that I knew instinctively this was an important person.

A terrifying thought hit me: had they seen me bathe? I waited for the shouting, for the "What is a girl doing here?" but it didn't come. If they had seen anything, they weren't letting on.

I cleared my throat, trying to keep my "Elias" voice steady. "I lost my cloak, sir. I would like to retrieve it."

"Return to camp," the voice repeated. 

Flat and final.

I resisted the urge to glare at the tree. Was the idiot even listening? I had just explained that I needed my cloak. But I knew I was supposed to be on my best behavior, and I didn't want to provoke someone who sounded like they could cause trouble for me. 

"Yes, sir," I muttered.

I turned and hurried back toward the lights of the Hold, my arms wrapped around myself to ward off the chill. By the time I reached Tent 42, my teeth were nearly chattering.

Inside, almost everyone was already asleep, their loud snoring filling the air. I made my way to my spot in the corner, but I stopped short. Someone had trashed it. My bedroll was kicked aside, and my extra supplies were strewn across the dirt floor. I did a quick check, at least nothing seemed to be missing.

I sighed, my shoulders sagging. I spent the next few minutes quietly arranging my things in the dark. I lay down on the thin mat, curling into a ball to try and conserve heat. 

I must have only slept for a short while when a faint sound from the tent entrance roused me. I was a light sleeper by nature, so I sat up immediately, my hand instinctively going for the small dagger I kept hidden in my boot.

I crept to the entrance and peered out. The camp was quiet, the fires dimmed to embers. It was completely deserted.

Sitting right there, draped over a tree stump in front of the tent, was my lost cloak.

I blinked, rubbing my eyes to make sure I wasn't dreaming. I stepped out and picked it up. It was miraculously dry and smelled faintly of woodsmoke and something else I couldn't quite place.

I looked around the empty space again. Did the man in the trees really go into the water and retrieve my cloak for me?

That was... weird.