You Are Made of Iron

Chapter III pt. 4

​Zeilla gulped. What had possessed her to insult the she-wolf? Was Skersha really going to do this now, in front of Ciar? Zeilla looked over to him and saw that he was lazily glancing over at her and sighing. She got the feeling that he wouldn't even notice.
​Apologize, Zeilla. Now.
​I, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to insult you! Please, I'm sorry!
​Skersha roared into Zeilla's mind, making her flinch and filling her with terror.
​What kind of an apology is that?! I told you to apologize! Not to beg like a sniveling worm!
​I'm sorry, Skersha! I'm sorry! I am so so sorry! Zeilla felt as if she was about to cry, but Skersha wouldn't let her. Her body began shaking with terror, her tremors increasing as Skersha roared louder. As her body succumbed to terror, Zeilla's mind dwelled on what was happening. How can Skersha shout mutely? And why does it make me so... afraid? But as for her attempts to try and, armed with the realization, combat Skersha, they all failed. Her growl had a primal ingredient that was unnegotiable, that demanded to be felt. It awoke a primal instinct to shudder in fear in its presence.
​Suddenly, it stopped. Somewhere along the line, she had closed her eyes, and now she opened them. Ciar had been tensely squatting in front of her, but relaxed when she opened her eyes. Skersha let her speak, but solely to say what she was ordered to. Zeilla knew that not following Skersha's command meant trouble with the she-wolf, so she reluctantly did as she was told.
​"W-why are y-you looking at me like th-that?" She asked, nervously repeating after Skersha.
​"Why were you shaking?" He demanded, answering her question with his own. "And why did you close your eyes like that?"
​"I-I'm tired. I can b-barely keep m-my eyes open."
​He scowled. She and Skersha both knew that he was aware of Zeilla's lying, but while Skersha hoped that he wouldn't act on it, Zeilla hoped for the opposite. Under Ciar's close scrutiny, Skersha gripped her mind tighter to stop the girl's trembling. However, Zeilla was trembling because of Skersha's hold, and this just made it worse. She was not choosing to shake, but, following the she-wolf's orders, she fruitlessly tried to stop.
​Zeilla was suddenly overcome with exhaustion. Skersha's torturous mind games, along with her recent beating and physical exertion, left the girl with no energy. With the strain that she was putting her under, not allowing her to move or speak, it was hard for Zeilla to force herself to stay awake as she had been doing. Eventually, under Skersha's grip, the strain became too great and she quietly slipped out of consciousness.
​Ciar jumped up as Zeilla slumped against the wall. "Skersha," He growled, realizing what had just transpired in front of him, "What have you done to her?"
​Skersha appeared next to Ciar. She sneered, annoyed at Zeilla. "The idiot child fell asleep." Skersha's hold over Zeilla was useless when she was sleeping. So, with the intention of waking the girl, she made to hit her across the face.
​Ciar caught her hand mid-air. He spoke in a low, angry voice, "I am sure that you love to hit the defenseless whenever you can, but in my presence you will not hit Zeilla, you filth." He let her arm go and scowled at her. "Now go and attack beggar children, or whatever it is your sick mind finds entertainment in."
​Skersha flashed a scowl to match his. "At least I care about the child."
​Ciar scoffed, "I don't know what your version of the word 'care' is, but mine doesn't include hurting her." He did a double take at the words that he just spoke. "But that is not the point! The point is, leave. Now. Before I make you." Ciar feigned, and Skersha took a step back before snarling at him and, oddly enough, leaving.
The boy turned back to Zeilla. She was snoring softly, her head resting back against the wall. She really looked like she had just fallen into a deep sleep. He chuckled. Maybe he should thank Skersha. He knew that on her own, Zeilla would not have fallen asleep in here. From observing her since their meeting, he'd learned that Zeilla did not sleep easily, if at all, around strangers. And right now, she needed the rest.
​She had licked her plate clean, he saw with a slight disgust. Of course she was starving, so he didn't blame her. However, as a boy brought up to be noble, the thought still made his lips curl. He looked over at her. She was unusually peaceful while sleeping. Her eyes had lost that wary and harried look she always wore. Her hair, despite being dirty and knotted, was actually an interesting color, and quite long. Even her swollen face was actually quite delicate in sleep. He realized, with surprise, that if she had been of noble birth, she would actually look rather beautiful. Too bad, he thought, that she was just a streetie. She slept, and he kept watch over her.
​Suddenly he stood. His movement woke her, and she sat up immediately. She is a really light sleeper. He noted. He said, "I should be leaving now. I have other things to do with my time than sit and watch you drool on your shirt."
​Zeilla sat up a little straighter, and noticed, with embarrassment, that there really was drool on her shirt. She wiped it off quickly. With a nod Zeilla accepted his departure and, as she relaxed back against the cold wall, he did so.
​Only eight minutes later, two guards came to take her back to her master. It almost seemed like Ciar had known they were coming, but that was impossible.
​"Come on, missy," the first guard said in an accent she didn't recognize, "it's time to take you home."
​Home, Zeilla thought bitterly, that's hardly the first thing that comes to mind when I think of that place.