After three weeks, Zurkar declares me recovered enough to leave the healing chambers permanently.
"You'll need proper lodging," he says while checking my scar one final time. "Lola can show you the women's quarters. There's space available."
Women's quarters. Shared housing, presumably, where I'll be surrounded by strangers with no privacy and no control over who comes and goes.
But what choice do I have? I'm alive because these orcs allowed it. I'm housed and fed because they permit it. Refusing their arrangements would be stupid and potentially fatal.
"I'll take her," Lola offers before I can respond. "Show her where everything is, help her get settled."
Rakk materializes in the doorway like he was summoned. "I'll carry her things."
"She doesn't have things," Lola points out, though her tone carries amusement.
"Then I'll walk with you." He says it like a statement of fact rather than an offer. "Make sure you don't get lost."
Something passes between them—some wordless communication I don't understand. Lola shakes her head slightly but doesn't argue, just gestures for me to follow.
The women's quarters occupy a section of carved dwellings along the canyon's western edge, sheltered from wind and positioned near the settlement's most protected area. Lola explains that she lived here before mating with Kaelen, that it's safe and comfortable and I'll be sharing space with three other females who work in various settlement roles.
The dwelling is larger than I expected. Multiple rooms branching off a central common area, with sleeping platforms separated by hanging curtains for minimal privacy. Storage chests line the walls. A small hearth provides warmth. Everything is clean and organized, almost cozy despite the sparse furnishings.
Lola shows me to an empty sleeping area in the back corner, the platform already made up with clean furs and a pillow stuffed with something soft.
"This was mine," she says quietly. "I asked if you could have it. Better location—further from the door, more sheltered."
Why? Why would she care where I sleep, what level of comfort I have? What does my well-being gain her?
But I don't ask. Just nod and sit on the platform, testing its softness. Rakk leans against the doorway watching, silent as always, positioned like he's standing guard even though there's nothing to guard against.
"The other women should be back soon," Lola continues. "They're kind, I promise. They'll help you settle in."
I doubt that, but I don't argue. Instead I focus on memorizing the space, noting exits and potential weapons and how quickly I could barricade the doorway if needed.
Rakk's gaze follows my assessment with unnerving accuracy, like he can read exactly what I'm cataloging and why. But he doesn't comment, just exchanges another wordless look with Lola before pushing off the doorframe.
"I should go," he says. "Training yard needs supervision."
"Thank you for walking with us," Lola tells him warmly.
He nods once, that same economical gesture I've seen dozens of times now, before disappearing back into the settlement's winding paths.
I hate that his absence makes the room feel emptier.
I start movingthrough the settlement alone after that.
Lola checks on me daily but doesn't hover, apparently satisfied that I'm stable enough to function independently. I establish patterns quickly—wake at dawn, visit the communal washing chambers before they get crowded, eat breakfast in the mess hall where no one bothers me, then walk the settlement mapping every structure and path until exhaustion forces me back to the women's quarters.
The other females sharing my dwelling are civil but distant. They acknowledge my presence with nods or brief greetings but don't attempt conversation. I'm grateful for that. Small talkrequires trust I don't have, assumes a future I'm not convinced exists.
On the ninth day of exploring, I make the mistake of venturing near the training yards during afternoon drills.
Warriors crowd the space, running through combat sequences with brutal efficiency. The sound of weapons meeting echoes off canyon walls. Sweat and dust hang thick in the air. I keep to the perimeter, watching from a distance while memorizing fighting styles and potential weaknesses.
That's when I notice them—three younger warriors clustered near the equipment racks, their attention fixed directly on me.
"—human female," one says in rough Common, loud enough to carry. "Better curves than the last one they brought in."
"Narrow hips though," another observes, eyes traveling down my body with clinical detachment. "Might struggle with birthing. But that mouth?—"
