Melisa's legs still felt like overcooked noodles, but sitting around in Sirah's tent wasn't going to help her situation. She needed information. A layout of the camp. Potential escape routes. Anything.
[Time to see what kind of prison I've landed myself in.]
She pushed through the tent flap and stepped into the afternoon sun. The darian camp spread out before her like some bizarre mix of military fortress and hedonist paradise, like she'd seen before. Warriors sparred in dirt circles while others fucked against weapon racks. The casual brutality and sexuality existing side by side made her head spin.
A group of nim sat near a communal fire pit, and Melisa drifted toward them. Some looked... fine? Not happy exactly, but not miserable either. They wore simple tunics and had leather collars around their necks, each decorated with different colored stones.
