Chapter 2.5

"I… er… I'm sorry!" I stumbled an apology.

"What are you doing here?" she unfroze and rested the papers back on the desk.

"I… I was looking for the laundry room!" her eyes went from the oversized bag on my back, to the dirty nightgown and then to my bare feet and understanding dawned in her expression.

She sighed, "so what tasteless squad do you belong to?"

"Dark Moon Squad, miss."

"Miss?" she laughed, "I am a captain you know." She points to the badge on her uniform.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know… captain."

She chuckled, "it's quite alright. I have nothing to do for now, so I'll show you the way."

"Thank you!... Captain!" she lets a small smile escape onto her lips.

She locks her room behind her and slips the key in her back pocket, "You were way off by the way, you're nowhere near the laundry room, did no-one tell you?"

"No captain." I answered, saying captain after everything felt weird, but then again I hardily spoke to any of Rickon's squad, I think this was the longest conversation I've had since leaving the orphanage.

"Hmmm… well it does sound like a stupid joke Rickon would pull…" she trailed off as I followed her through the passage until it widened out into the entrance hall which I first came in- I'd managed to get into an entirely wrong part of the building on the east side. Instead of going under the stairs which led to the hospital wing, we turned off just before into a little room full of whirling machines.

"Here we are. Detergent is in the cupboard, the powers already on so I assume you can take it from here?"

I took out the detergent and gingerly stared at the instructions, "Captain, sorry to bother you again but… Could you read this please?" I asked in a small voice, I think that I was pushing my luck.

"Can't you read boy?" she asked sharply.

"I can… but I come from Reaven, our written language is different."

"Ah, I see. Two scoops for every wash, don't fill it to the brim and use two machines if you need to." She answers without looking at the instructions.

I begin to fill the machine with the muddy clothes, they smelt bad and I was glad to get them away from my body. I thought the captain had already left but she hesitates at the door before saying "when you're done, come and look for me while it washes."

I nodded but she's already gone. I bundle it inside, then return to the dorm to collect the rest, and thankfully the squad hadn't returned in the meantime. I didn't know how long they were going to be, so I hurried back to fill a second machine before finding my way back to the residential wing.

I knocked first this time, which received a long pause before she yelled "Come in!". I obeyed and entered. Captain had her sleeves rolled up to her elbows and was wiping her hands on a towel as I entered. I hovered awkwardly in the doorway as she says, "Come on! Don't just stand there!" she beckons me further into the room, and into a small conjoined bathroom. It was basic and far from luxury but there was small toilet and sink as well as a bathtub on one side which was half filled with soapy water.

"You stink so take a bath." She ordered simply before pulling the bathroom door to behind her.

I stood for a moment, a little baffled, then pealed off my nightshirt. It wasn't much use anymore, it probably stunk way too much for any amount of washing to get out, it was ripped and stained with blood and dirt. I carefully unwound the bandages on my feet and left it in a pile, before warily dipping my toe in the water. It was warm and pleasant, and at just the right temperature; a sigh escaped my lips as I eased myself into the water and it stung all the little cuts and bruised accumulated on my skin this past week.

It wasn't long before the water was stained a dark brown as the mud flacked off my skin to reveal a pale but somewhat bruised complexion; grit accumulated at the bottom of the tub and no matter how much I scrubbed I couldn't get the last bit of dirt off.

"Boy, I'm coming in." The captain called through the half-shut door. She enters carrying three bottles, and knees besides the bathtub, "turn around." She orders as she grabs a jug left on the side of the tub and fills it with new water, "I used to do this for my son…" she explains, pouring the water over my head to wet my hair, cupping her hand gently over my forehead to avoid it getting in my eyes. A few moments later she massages soap into my hair, she seemed content doing that and I had no complaints, but it felt like if I prodded in the wrong place the situation could turn out quite dangerous, so instead I stayed silent and let the events unfold. "you were filthy, what on earth have you been doing?" she asked, I wondered what she meant, surely, she knew what kind of things I'd been doing considering she knew I was with Dark Moon Squad, so I stayed silent, which suited her because she didn't pry for an answer. She washes off my hair, "All done." She concludes, and I sneak a glance back at her, and she wore a wistful distant expression as she stood, "I've left some clothes here and a towel when you're done." After that she left the room quickly without looking back. A few moments later I hear the stifled sniffs of someone trying to cry quietly.

I dry myself with the towel and study the clothes she left for me; simple black cotton trousers and a green t-shirt a little too big but a lot more comfortable than the nightshirt (which I noticed was nowhere to be seen), near the hem of the t-shirt was the name Jamie had been hand embraided in tiny letters. The clothes must have been her sons.

"Er… Captain?" I called.

"Yes, are you done?" she asked.

"Yes, I think I need to get back. Rickon might be finished and if he gets back before im done I'll be punished."

"Yes… Yes of course. You can go now." Her expression was full of hurt, but I didn't know how to help her, so instead I just thanked her and left.

"Thank you, Captain, for the clothes and the bath."

"Come and see me any time."

I nodded a thanks and closed the door gently behind me. After that I rushed to get all the washing back before Rickon returns, I'd wasted too much time with the Captain that the clothes had already finished by the time I returned to the laundry room. I decided there wasn't enough time to do two trips so I bundled all the clothes in the bag and dragged it back to dorm.

Thankfully, the dorm was empty when I returned, but there was no telling if they'd come back and left again in the meantime, so I sat crossed legged on the floor and quickly folded the clothes, and I was just folding the last of it when the dorm door opened and they all filed in grumbling about something.

"Hey kid. Rickon's not in a great mood so I'd stay out of his way." Jay warned, "Where'd ya get those clothes?" he asked as Rickon barges past, kicking all the clothes I'd folded, in disarray.

I scrambled to get out of his way, while grabbing the remaining clothes from under his feet, "a lady Captain gave them to me."

One of the men overheard and chuckled, "Huh, so she got to ya already?"

What does he mean? I wondered, there must have been more than one female Captain here, so how would they know which one? I didn't even know her name.

"That nutjob befriends any brat that looks remotely like her son. She's an embarrassment really, too far gone to even be assigned to our squad and that saying something." The solider jibes.

"Don't let anyone else hear you talk like that about a superior." Jay warns.

"She won't be a superior for long. I bet she'll be assigned some stupid impossible mission to get her killed and that'll be the end of it."

Despite warning the solider Jay nodded in agreement. "Kid, you better soak it up now, she's the only one that'll ever give you any sympathy."

That statement was the truest thing I heard since coming here, and Rickon made a point to demonstrate it in his bad mood.

"it's time to draw our marks." He remarked, and as I looked back at him with confusion, Jay slipped his shirt over his head and knelt at his feet so that his back was facing us. Across his shoulder blades were dozens of thick black lines scoring down past his waist, "Not you. Him." He points at me, and Jay obediently stands, leaving the space at his feet bare. I looked at it for a moment, while the eyes of the squad bore into me. What was I meant to do? "Kneel. Shirt off." He ordered, and I hesitated, I wanted to protest, I didn't trust any of them, but the look in his eye… It was a look of feral animal about to strike. I made slow, slight movements to remove my shirt, which inevitably was not good enough, so he grabs me by the shoulders and forces me on my knees in front of him. I watch him take out a weird looking pen, his strong hands grip my shoulders tightly, so tight that I think that he's trying to break my collar bone and I shift uncomfortably under his bearing.

My heart races, I take in short sharp breaths, my eyes dart to each person, trying to decipher the animosity that clung to us like a thick fog. What is he going to do? The thought passes through my mind the moments before it starts; a sound of a small drill vibrates near the back of my head but before I can turn, pain erupts from its contact with my skin as if millions of tiny wasp stings struck the same location. I give a small yelp from the shock rewarding me with sadistic jeers from the others, but I prevailed, gritting my teeth and clenching my knees.

And when he was done, though I couldn't see I knew what was there, a thin dark line etched between my shoulder blades, "One for each life." he explains, if it wasn't enough that the memory will be with me for the rest of my life, I now had to wear it on my skin for everyone to see.

When he released my shoulder, I fell forwards, gasping, then crawled away from the jeering men back into the corner of floor that had become my bed. I grabbed the blanket and cradled it to my chest and leant against the wall, the cool air soothing the wound. I watched out of the corner of my eye the other men getting their marks, they sat at Rickons feet as he traced a pen-like contraption over their skin, searing dark ink into the skin. Some of the men had a few lines, but with those who'd been in the Squad for longer, their backs were almost entirely covered in black tallies. Rickon's back so was overflowing with dark slashes that Jay had to put three fresh marks on his forearm. There must have been over a hundred marks- a hundred lives.

In the few days that past I tried to limit my time I spent with Dark Moon Squad; I ate and slept with them, but Rickon didn't give me any other impossible tasks so I snuck away when I could. Often, I found myself seeking out to see the Captain, who never turned me away and she even started to teach me how to read Garlantian. However, Jay was right, although the Captain was kind, she was the only one who showed me any kindness. Because I was small- small even for a child soldier, I regularly got my food stolen when I wasn't paying attention, on those days Captain might give me a biscuit when I go to see her that afternoon.

"Those men really need to grow up. Really? Bullying children?! That's what the enemy's there for!" she scoffed, handing me a biscuit from the little jar on her desk.

"Captain, why don't you eat in the canteen?" I asked her, setting down the papers I was learning from and nibbling on the plain biscuit.

"We don't exactly see eye to eye, but that's none of your concern." She answers with a troubled expression, "come on, back to work! I want you to be able to read by the end of this month! That symbol is pronounced lo, so the word reads…" her finger tranced below the foreign words in her hand writing. She wrote out their alphabet and gave it to me to learn; our spoken languages were so similar that all it came down to a difference in accent or slightly different words for different things, but our written languages were very different, so much so that I almost had to start from scratch.

"load." I answered.

She beamed at me, "very good! Now try this one."

"Ja… Ja-ket. Jacket."

"that's right, and now this one?"

"that looks like a 'ya' but different." I pointed to the first symbol in the word.

"that because when a curve is added below it 'ya' becomes 'ga', so what does it read?" she explained, and I wondered if she'd already done this with her son, Jamie. Sometimes I caught her looking at me with endearment, but not because I was me, but because she could pretend I was her son for a second. Even if it wasn't directed at me, I loved those moments. I wonder if that is what having a mother felt like.

"Garden?" I asked. I wanted to ask about what happened to her son, but I felt like if I did the illusion would be broken and maybe she wouldn't want me to come anymore. There was a picture frame on her desk containing a photo of her and a little boy, they were happy- she wasn't wearing uniform and she was laughing as the boy in her lap wiggled out of her grip as she tickled his belly.