Bath time
Hannah
We woke at the break of dawn. He shook me gently, rousing me from sleep.
Compared to the night before, I had slept reasonably well.
It would take a few more nights to fully restore my energy, but surviving the day seemed manageable.
As he softly unwrapped me, the chill morning air kissed my skin.
I shivered involuntarily, goosebumps rising along my arms.
I was almost tempted to ask for five more minutes, but he had already moved toward the cavern entrance, surveying the outside world.
“The storm has passed. We will leave,” he said, and with that, we were off.
I mostly kept to myself, replaying yesterday’s events in my mind.
How he had noticed the storm coming, planned for it, managed it.
Honestly, I was glad to have him by my side.
I didn’t think I would have fared well alone.
Sitting by the fire, I realized I had nothing of my own for survival.
He annoyed me, but he hadn’t left me behind.
I was clearly meant for him in some way, though I didn’t understand what that entailed.
What did he expect from me? What did he want? The uncertainty gnawed at me.
Still, he had fed me and kept me warm. I shook my head, trying to sort through the whirlwind of thoughts. Back on Earth, I at least knew the world, the people, and what to expect. Here, everything was new, unpredictable. I needed to adapt, to learn—and fast.
Pushing my thoughts aside, I looked around.
The forest was beautiful. Sunlight streamed through the foliage, casting golden rays across the world.
The air was fresh, clean, almost magical, as if the storm had washed away any lingering dust or dirt.
I soaked in it, letting the sense of wonder and relief wash over me.
My gaze fell on him. He walked steadily ahead, silent, and I realized I didn’t even know his name.
I opened my mouth to ask but closed it again.
I was still irritated by “pet” and couldn’t imagine what ridiculous title he might expect me to use—“Master,” perhaps?
I shivered at the thought, rolling my eyes.
I decided not to ask him. Small acts of rebellion were necessary for my sanity.
Soon, the scent of smoke reached me, faint at first, then stronger. He glanced back over his shoulder. “We are almost at camp. Stay close.”
I did as told, my heart beating faster. What would camp be like?
Would everyone be as tall and intimidating as him?
We rounded tents, passed them rather than heading straight inside, and I quietly observed.
He moved with purpose, scanning left and right as if searching for someone.
My chest tightened. Would I end up caged again?
Tied to a pole? Images of grotesque possibilities made me anxious.
Finally, we stopped in front of a particular tent. He opened the flap slightly and pushed me inside. I stumbled, bracing for the worst.
Instead, I found myself in a cozy, homely interior. Wooden planks formed the floor, covered by soft beige and brown carpets. To one side was a massive bed piled high with furs; on the far wall, a small sitting area with colourful pillows around a wooden table. A little lamp hung above it.
Flabbergasted, I looked around, pivoting to take it all in. My eyes settled on him, leaning against a sturdy pole at the entrance.
“Do you like what you see, Pet?” he asked, pleased by my reaction.
“It’s beautiful… Is this all yours?” I managed to say.
“It is,” he said, joining me where I stood. “I am a true warrior of the Khelaan Clan. I earned this honourably through battle. Just like I earned you.”
“You earned me?” I asked softly, startled.
He nodded. “I fought countless battles. Defeated enemy after enemy. This is my reward.”
“And what will you do with me?” I whispered, my throat tight.
He held my gaze silently. His voice, calm and steady, finally broke the quiet. “For now, I will feed and wash you.”
Then he left, leaving me stunned, unsure what to think. I sank onto a large pillow, letting my sore limbs stretch out. The comfort of the room was overwhelming, almost absurd after the past days.
I must have dozed off.
“Enjoying yourself?”
I jolted upright. He stood in front of me, bowls in hand, one eyebrow raised.
“Y—Yes? Am I allowed to sit here?” I asked nervously.
“You are.”
Relief washed through me.
One bowl was set before me. The rich scent of stew—bits of meat, vegetables, hints of rosemary and thyme—made me momentarily homesick. I knew I would probably never enjoy any of the foods I loved back on Earth ever again. It made me hesitate.
“Eat,” he prompted.
“Thank you for the food,” I whispered.
He paused at my words, studying me briefly before continuing his meal.
After we finished eating, he handed me a comb—smooth, polished stone with tiny carvings etched along its edges. I brushed my hair carefully, untangling knots. Almost done, he returned with two buckets of steaming water.
“Follow me,” he instructed, leading me through a nearby flap to a small bathroom. A large, round wooden tub had been filled with water. The room was neat and tidy, with an intimate feel.
“Come, I will wash you,” he said.
“I can wash myself,” I said quickly, heat rising in my face.
“No. I will wash you,” he insisted.
Sighing, I asked, “Please… turn around?”
He did.
I quickly stripped out of my dirty shift, dropping it to the floor and stepped into the tub, the warmth stealing a soft sigh from my lips. The heat enveloped me, soothing my stiff muscles. It was heaven. I had a full belly and a warm bath—pure bliss.
Then, rustling behind me. I turned slightly and saw him undressing, the muscles of his arms flexing as he moved. I spun back just in time to avert my eyes as he stepped into the water, sitting slowly. My back remained turned, frozen, unsure what to do.
“What are you doing?” I squeaked.
“Bathing.”
I can’t believe this, I thought wildly.
“Let me wash you,” he said softly.
“No, thank you,” I replied in a high-pitched voice, hoping he would let it go.
He stirred behind me. “What are yo—” I began, but a bucket of water splashed over me. I coughed, sputtering.
Before I could react, his hands circled my head, massaging my scalp. Slowly, gently, he washed my hair. It was intimate, foreign, and I relaxed before I could stop myself.
Way too soon, he stopped.
Then, one hand moved to my waist, drawing me gently against his chest. I leaned back, head resting against him. Too relaxed to protest, I let my body melt into his.
As I enjoyed his warmth, his safety, my eyes drifted close—and I slept.
Drokahr
As the sun stood high in the sky, we reached camp.
Hannah was surprisingly quiet for most of the journey, keeping up quite well.
I had chosen a route that circled around the camp to avoid any observers; luckily, my tent was on the outskirts, as new tents were only added when necessary.
Glad to avoid unwanted attention, we arrived quickly.
I scanned my surroundings and pushed my pet inside.
I wondered what she would think of her new home and stepped in after her.
It pleased me to see her wide-eyed, marvelling at what was mine.
I was glad to be back. Everything was as it should be again.
Having her here felt right. It was good that she liked it, that she thought my home was beautiful. It would be hers too.
Her admiration came to an abrupt halt when I mentioned that she—and this home—were a reward. She shot me an anxious look and asked, “And what will you do with me?”
It should have been easy to answer—whatever I wanted. She belonged to me. Avoiding the conversation, I gave her a curt reply and left the tent. She would see soon enough.
“Hey, Drokahr!” a familiar voice shouted.
Solen, a friend of mine and a warrior himself, came running down the dirt path that connected the living quarters with the supply facilities and training grounds.
It was good to see him. We had known each other since we were younglings; being chosen as future warriors had drawn us close.
We had spent countless days training together.
Reckless and loose-tongued as he was, it didn’t surprise me when he grinned broadly and asked, “Enjoying your new pet, eh? Didn’t see you at the training grounds today!”
I growled, more annoyed than angry, and walked straight past him.
“Hey!” he called, jogging after me until he caught up. “No, seriously—where were you? The Chief’s worried.”
“Tell the Chief I’m fine and back. I’ll speak with him tomorrow,” I grumbled, unwilling to explain the past days.
“And? She nice?” he asked, grinning again, his broken tusk making his smile permanently lopsided.
“She is… pleasant enough,” I replied curtly.
“Well, don’t hide her away forever. Come train tomorrow. I’ll show her how real warriors of the Khelaan Clan fight,” he boasted, flexing his arms.
I growled again, but he was already running off, waving.
Finally uninterrupted, I retrieved two bowls of steaming stew and returned to my tent. Inside, I chuckled softly at the sight of her sleeping on the sitting area. Had I not brought food, I might have let her rest, but I wanted her fed before cleaning her.
I had expected excitement—she had been eager for berries and meat before—but as I placed the bowl in front of her, she looked almost sad. I wondered what troubled her.
“Eat,” I instructed.
What I hadn’t expected was her gratitude.
She thanked me.
She hadn’t once shown appreciation since we met. I had assumed she was as ill-mannered as she was disobedient, but this proved me wrong. Why now? Why not before?
I brooded over it while eating, shovelling spoon after spoon into my mouth until my bowl was empty.
I handed her a comb so she could tame the mess on her head, then left again to fetch hot water for a bath. Hot water was a luxury—baths were usually shared with family or fellow warriors. I had been looking forward to it all day, to soaking as long as I wished without complaints.
I removed my tunic and worked on my belt when she suddenly turned her back, demanding to know what I was doing.
“Bathing,” I replied.
Stepping into the tub, I lowered myself slowly, resting my back against the wood. I let my head fall back, arms draped over the edge, savouring the warmth. When I looked forward again, I saw her cowering between my bent legs, her back turned toward me.
That’s when I noticed it.
A large, dark purple bruise marked her back.
I frowned, then remembered—how I had thrown her to the ground in my rage. My jaw clenched. Shame burned in my chest. She was hurt because of me.
I wanted to touch it, but it looked painful. I resisted.
Reaching for the soap, I focused on what I had promised. Gently, I massaged her scalp, careful that my long black claws wouldn’t scratch her skin. I felt her relax beneath my hands, and something in my chest eased.
When I finished, I drew her back against me. I didn’t want her cowering like that.
We sat in silence, comfortable and warm, until the water cooled. She had fallen asleep.
Not wanting to wake her, I carefully lifted her out, dried her, and dressed her in one of my clean tunics. Carrying her to her bed, I paused.
Then I turned.
Only for tonight, I told myself.
I laid her in my own bed, settled beside her, and let my arm fall over her, pulling her close.