Rose woke slowly, her senses seeming to come alive one by one. First there was smell: Something musty and slightly oily was most prominent, with a hint of smoke in the background. Next was sound: She heard the crackle of a fire and soft, tentative whispers. Her fingers moved slowly over whatever she lay upon. It felt slightly scratchy, rather dirty, and not particularly soft. Finally she opened her eyes.

She was lying on the ground, on a pelt, about a meter from an open fireplace. The flames provided the only illumination in the room. A dozen or so women sat around her, all watching her intently. When they saw that her eyes were open, their whispers ceased.

Rose pushed herself up onto her elbows, suppressing a groan at the ache the motions brought to her left side. At least she could breathe now. She supposed that was something. She glanced down to see that her shoes had been removed, and the thick cloak she'd worn was gone.

She sat up and looked at the faces all around her. Each was somber, and it took her a few moments to realize that none of these women was much older than she was. There was a weariness, a sense of age and time passing heavily that seemed to shroud them. All she could think to do was to offer them a warm smile.

"Hi," she croaked, surprised at the raspiness of her voice. "I'm Rose."

No one responded immediately, so she leaned toward the young woman closest to her and asked, "What's your name?"

"Miara," was the soft reply.

"Miara. Wow, that's really pretty. And you?"

Each woman gave her name in turn, and by the time they'd finished the tension was a bit less thick.

"So where are we?" Rose asked. "I mean, how'd I get here?"

"Kuroq brought you," Miara said.

"Must be that prat who grabbed me out there," she reasoned.

"You were traveling?" Miara inquired.

"Yeah, sorta. I came here with a friend, an' I was supposed to wait for him, but he didn't have a warm coat, so I went after him, an' that's when that pillock got me."

"A friend?" Miara repeated. "A man?"

Rose nodded. "Yeah."

Further discussion was halted as the door swung open and slammed against the wall. A huge, sullen man stepped inside. Rose recognized him immediately, only now she knew his name.

She got to her feet and walked toward him. Her head reached only to his shoulder, but she lifted her chin and gave him the most indignant glare she could muster. She raised her fist and opened her mouth, a torrent of castigation ready on her tongue.

But in an instant his huge hand had flown up to slam against her cheek. She stumbled back from the force of the blow, tasting blood immediately.

"How dare you raise your hand to me!" Kuroq bellowed.

Rose regained her footing, resentment fueling initial fear into boldness. "An' how dare you hit me! I'm half your size!"

For a massive brute, he was far from oafish. His motions were rapid and furious as his hand shot up to close over her throat. For one moment she thought he would break her neck. He flung her down to the ground, where she landed with a thud.

"You will not speak to me!" he ordered. "You will regret your tongue, woman." The look he gave her could only be described as one of lascivious fury.

The other women had cowered into the far corners. Kuroq swept a hand toward all of them and made a strange knocking motion in the air, then he turned on his heel and left with a firm slam of the door. Rose could hear an exterior bolt slipping into place. Through the open door she'd glimpsed a few other buildings.

No one moved to help her up, so she slowly got to her feet, wiping her hand over the blood seeping from her lip. She glanced at the glistening crimson liquid with distaste then looked at Miara.

"Is this how he treats all of you?" she asked.

Miara appeared confused. "Treats?" she repeated.

"Yeah. Hitting you, giving you those disgusting looks, not even letting you speak—"

"We do not speak to the men unless they wish us to," she said.

"Ever?"

"Of course not."

Rose walked toward the fire, rubbing her arms against the chill creeping over her. Now she could see pelts scattered throughout the room. Two large pots hung over the fire, and bowls sat on the hearth. A few simple garments, half-finished, lay on the single low bench in the room.

"You don't live in here, do you?" Rose asked.

"Yes," Miara replied stoically.

"But surely it's not just you. I mean, there're other women here in your village, aren't there?"

"Yes. The old women take care of the children in the nursery, and the women who are with child live in the birth house."

"An' that's all of you?"

Miara shrugged. "A few are with the men now, in their houses, but once they tire of them, our sisters will return to us here."

"So you just stay in here all the time?" That would explain the pastiness of all the women's complexions.

"When the weather is fair we go outside. But that is not often." Seemingly emboldened by Rose's interest, she continued, "And the men send for us nearly every day."

"Send for you?" Rose repeated. "For what?" As soon as she asked, she realized the folly of her question.

Miara gave her the same look she'd received more than once from the Doctor when he could scarcely believe her human ignorance. Patiently, as if speaking to a child, Miara replied, "What men do to women." She watched Rose's reaction then added, "Beneath our clothes."

"Yeah, I get it," Rose said angrily. "So you just let 'em do that to you? You're better than that! Your body's your own, and you're the one who decides what happens to it."

The women were all watching her curiously and with building incredulity. Several were shaking their heads.

"You must be from very far away," Miara finally said. "Your ideas are so strange! But you're here now, and you must obey."

"Who? That monster?" She gestured toward her split lip.

"All of the men. If you don't, you'll be hurt… very badly."

"An' if I do, I'll be hurt… very badly," Rose replied mordantly.

Miara rested a gentle hand on Rose's shoulder. "No. If you do as they say, if you don't try to fight, they won't hurt you very much, and it will be over in a few minutes."

Rose shook her head vehemently. "No. Uh uh. No way. No one's doin' that to me."

"Rose," Miara said sadly, "you have no choice. Kuroq will return for us soon. Please, just be good—"

Rose stalked away, testing the door and looking up at the single high window. It was very small, only about three inches high and ten inches long. There was no way she could fit through it. She looked around for anything that she could use as a weapon, but there was nothing. The pots on the hearth were huge and appeared prohibitively heavy, and the bowls were thin ceramic. There was no cutlery.

"It will be over soon," Miara said kindly.

"How many go at a time?"

"We all do."

"Look," Rose said fervently, "if we all stick together, we might be able to get away. What if we all run when he comes to get us?"

Miara's eyes widened. "No, we can't do that. We would be punished severely."

"Not if you got away—"

"That's impossible. And even if we did, what would we do? Who would take care of us?"

The other women nodded in concordance. Rose realized with a sinking heart that convincing these women to rebel was an insurmountable task, at least at the moment. Well, once she found the Doctor, they'd do something about it; he'd help her set things right. Now she just needed to figure out a way to escape and get back to the TARDIS… because by God, she'd die before she'd let Kuroq or any other brute touch her.


To be continued…