Auction

It has been three months since I last bled. One month since I threatened to go and reclaim the city of Dallas. The men have forgotten about the idea, but I have not. As my belly begins to show a small swelling of pregnancy, I become ever more desperate that my child should have a better life than I did. It weighs on my mind night and day. It makes me nervous and even nauseous. The men put it down to hormones, but this is more than a matter of chemistry.

I know better now than to talk to the mercenaries about it. They are my lovers and my protectors, but they are not willing to risk anything for the future. All they care about is keeping me safe. It's noble, but that is what my father tried to do, and I already know that plan does not work. We need power. We need money. And I know where a great deal of it is stored.

The plan I have is risky. So much so that it is borderline impossible, but I am hedging my bets. I am female and with child. Nobody would dare harm me in this state. I am untouchable. At least, I hope I am.

The weapons Alexios gave me have been hidden well, along with a change of the clothes I used to wear—the ones that allow me to pass for a male. I am careful about making my preparations. I sneak food away, water, matches. I make a little nest of provisions at the very corner of the camp, and when the moon is at her height, I make my move.

I make sure to leave a note on my pillow. It reads:

Be back soon.

Please don't worry.

—T

I know it won't stop them worrying, but it assuages my conscience somewhat, and at least they will know that I intend to return.

I take the same path I did the day I was discovered. I am careful. I keep an eye out for soldiers, looters, scavengers, bandits, in other words: men.

There is much to watch out for, not just in the direction of the city that lies ahead, but on my tail. The mercenaries will come for me. I likely have no more than a matter of hours on them, and they will overcome that lead quickly. My only advantage is that I know this land better than they do. I know the secret paths. The short cuts. I know the ways that avoid the coyote trails and the smuggling routes.

By the nightfall of the first day, I am almost certain they are on my trail. I see flashes of what looks like the shape of men out of the corner of my eye. I hear the occasional distant shout. If they catch me before I get back to Dallas, they will punish me and hold me captive. I will be trapped in the prison I was born into. I need to get to the city. I need to secure funds. I need to go back to where the tragedy unfolded, to where our life began. I need to make things right.

The mercenaries will not understand. I know I will be angering Alexios and Silver and Pharaoh. They will think of me as foolish, or perhaps even mad.

With my ears trained on the world around me, interpreting every slight sound in the dark as the approach of a predator, I light no fire and I sleep in a bush.

It is no short journey to the city, but I make it as short as possible by keeping moving, barely resting. I am driven by desire for so many things, riches, revenge, some kind of resolution. My story will not end pumping out offspring into the wasteland until I pass away from the ordeal.