The meal she could see them eating was unappetizing at best. It lacked the fresh meat from the game one of the warriors had brought down.
They weren't even trying to fit in. Eva knew if they asked, the warriors would let them hunt for food. The Trateri were strict, but they weren't cruel. As long as none of the throwaways tried to run or sabotage the group or camp, they would be treated with respect.
Maybe they thought there was a way home, a path back to the way things used to be. It might be what was keeping them locked in their own little world. It was a delusional outlook, but perhaps it was one they clung to.
There was no going back. The box had been opened; the possibilities realized. Even if the Trateri failed, some other group would eventually rise to take their place.
She wondered if any of the men sitting in that circle realized that.
Eva's gaze wandered lazily over the rest of those assembled, catching on Caden's enigmatic expression where he watched her with an intensity that made her skin itch. She couldn't say what it was about the commander that so rubbed her wrong, but every time she caught him watching her, she wanted to rattle his cage or do something unexpected, even as her instincts urged her to run far away and hide.
It was flummoxing. Frustrating. She was confident and secure in who she was, and he threatened all that.
He glanced at the throwaways and something shifted in his expression. He went from simply watching to planning.
Something would need to be done about them, Eva knew.
Her stomach rumbled. Besides the trail food Ollie had tossed into the wagon before they'd left, Eva hadn't eaten in hours. She hesitated, pulled between the two groups. One representing her past and the other her present.
She should talk to the throwaways, she decided. She needed to feel them out to see how big a problem they'd be.
Not all Lowlanders were painted with the same brush, she reminded herself. Some were sensible. Take her for instance. If she judged them without getting to know them, how was she any better than those who did the same to her?
She started toward the group as Ollie strolled up to her, using a towel to rub at his wet hair. "You going to talk to them?"
She shrugged. There was no judgment in his tone, just curiosity.
"Might as well. This trip is supposed to take weeks. I'd like to know the people I'm traveling with."
The better to separate the troublemakers from allies, she thought.
He grunted, even as amusement curled one corner of his mouth. He knew her past. Some of it anyway. There were parts she kept to herself because no one but her needed to know those bits.
He knew she didn't normally hang around the throwaways, didn't eat with them, or talk to them the few times their paths crossed. It wasn't because she didn't want their stigma to rub off on her as some of those who had embraced the Trateri feared. She simply didn't have time for some of their narrow-minded ways.
“Hey, thanks for brushing down Caia,” Eva said.
Ollie looked briefly startled. “That wasn’t me.”
She cocked her head. “Who was it then?”
Ollie glanced Caden’s way before trying to smother a smile. “I wonder.”
Eva frowned at the implication and examined the commander closely, the insinuation not lost on her.
“Maybe he felt guilty for earlier,” Ollie teased.
She snorted. “Unlikely.”
He’d have to feel he did something wrong to feel guilty.
Ollie shrugged. “You never know.”
Eva rolled her eyes. He was always the first to give someone the benefit of the doubt.
"If you're going to talk to them, see if you can get them to take a bath. The warriors will be done with the hot spring soon." The two of them glanced at the throwaways. "I think they'll be more likely to listen if that tidbit comes from you."
Probably. The throwaways might be part of the Trateri army, but they were unwilling participants, liable to resist and mouth-off whenever they thought they could get away with it. If Ollie went over there to suggest they take the opportunity to bathe, they were likely to refuse out of spite.
