Respect
Hannah
I could get used to this, I thought as I stretched my limbs, sighing happily. I had woken up a while ago, alone. At first, I didn’t quite understand where I was, but as I slowly sat up and looked around the room, memories of yesterday came back to me.?
As confused as I was that he wasn’t here, I still enjoyed having a moment to myself—some privacy. It had been rare, ever since I was captured, to be truly alone. I let my head flop back onto the plush pillows, closing my eyes.
Thinking back to him, I wondered how I had even ended up in his bed. I had seen the small cot at the far wall next to the sitting area yesterday, assuming it was meant for me, but he had clearly let me sleep in his.
My gaze swept down. Looking at myself, I was dumbfounded to see that I wasn’t wearing my usual shift anymore. It had been replaced with a clean shirt. I didn’t remember dressing myself. I remembered sitting in the tub, growing tired—but that was about it.
Heat crept up my spine, and my eyes widened as the realization dawned on me.
He must have dressed me.
I slapped my hands against my face, rubbing it, trying to soothe the massive wave of embarrassment that washed over me.
Pulling the covers higher, I dragged them over my head, trying to shut out the shockwave of emotions crashing through me.
For a few moments, I marinated in my cocoon of shame before finally lifting the covers again.
Deciding I wouldn’t mention it, I hoped he wouldn’t either.
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I grunted and sighed.
As I sat up in bed, I heard footsteps at the entrance. Moments later, he stepped inside, carrying a bowl. When he saw me sitting there, his movements stilled, and for a while he simply stared.
I sat motionless, yesterday’s events rushing back all at once. I was sure my cheeks had turned a nice shade of red.
“Good morning,” I said, breaking the silence, trying to ease the tension.
He seemed to snap out of his trance, hummed, pointed toward the sitting area, and simply said, “Breakfast.”
That was fine by me.
I jumped out of bed, walked over, and sat down, curiously waiting to see what was in the bowl. As he placed it on the table, I craned my neck and made out bits of dried meat and bread.
“It looks good,” I smiled at him.
He stared again before finally saying, “Eat.”
I picked up a piece of dried meat, smelled it, then put it into my mouth. It tasted salty at first, but gradually other spices came through, making my mouth tingle. The bread was fluffy, soft, and mild.
We ate in comfortable silence until the bowl was empty.
“I will show you the camp. Come,” he said, standing up.
He lifted the tent flap and waited for me to pass through before dropping it and taking the lead.
I hadn’t seen much yesterday, so I was curious—but also anxious about what the camp might be like.
Subconsciously, I twisted a strand of hair around my fingers, working out knots and trying to calm myself.
“This,” he said, pointing at a large tent further down the dirt road, “is for food.” He gestured to the one next to it. “This is for hot water.”
I nodded, mentally mapping the tents he pointed out.
At a fork in the road, he turned left. “This leads to our family camp.”
“What is a family camp?” I asked.
“Only warriors live in this part of the camp. Families are further down the road. They have their own facilities and housing—they have different needs,” he explained calmly.
As we walked on, we passed more of his kind. They greeted him with curt nods, which he returned. No words were exchanged. Most of them, once they noticed me, simply stared. It made me uncomfortable, so I made sure not to lag behind.
Soon, we reached a large green tent.
“This is our Chief’s tent. His name is Solkar. You will address him as Chief and show him respect,” he instructed.
Slightly insulted that he didn’t think I could behave myself, I followed him inside.
The light was dim; parts of the tent were lifted to let daylight in, but the heavy green fabric swallowed most of it.
As my eyes adjusted, I saw an elderly man seated in a large wooden chair.
Carvings were etched into it—branches twisting in on themselves—but I didn’t dare stare too closely as we approached.
“Look who finally shows up again!” Solkar laughed hoarsely. “Been missing you, Drokahr!”
Oh. So that’s his name.
Drokahr. It sounded nice. I liked it.
He stopped before the Chief, and I lingered slightly behind him to the side. It didn’t feel right to stand next to him. Unsure what else to do, I remained silent.
Drokahr lifted a hand to his chest and bowed. I mimicked him, hoping it was enough. When he straightened, I did too.
Solkar studied me, rubbing his chin, then motioned for me to come closer.
My heart began to pound.
I stepped forward slowly until I stood only a pace or two away. Up close, I could see he had only one eye and countless scars. There was something about him—an aura that demanded respect. I didn’t dare meet his gaze.
This mattered to Drokahr. I didn’t want to make a fool of myself.
The Chief looked me up and down, taking in my bare feet, my clothes, my face. My palms were slick with sweat, my heartbeat loud in my ears. I focused on breathing, refusing to appear weak.
He leaned forward until I could feel his breath against my skin. I didn’t move.
Then he leaned back.
“What’s your name?”
“Hannah… Chief,” I answered, praying I’d said it right.
He stared at me in silence before looking past me at Drokahr. “You like your pet?”
“I do.”
Solkar slapped his knee and laughed. “Good. Good!”
He waved a dismissive hand. “Off with you.”
I bowed once more and turned to Drokahr, searching his face for anything—approval, relief, irritation. But his expression was neutral.
My stomach dropped. I’d messed up.
I followed him out, my head hanging low.
“You did well,” he said.
My eyes snapped up. He was looking at me, calm and steady.
A small smile tugged at my lips. I nodded. “Thank you, Drokahr.”
He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Clearing his throat, he marched on, and I followed with lighter steps.