"Oh, my God! Arabella!"

She stirred uneasily to the sound of her grandmother's voice, whimpering slightly at the stab of pain emanating from her temple. It took a long moment to remember where she was – or at least where she was supposed to be – and how she'd gotten there. She was moving in a way that almost made her nauseous, and both hands came up instinctively to grab at the nearest stable thing as her eyes flew open.

It turned out that the nearest stable thing was Adnah's chest – covered, thank God, in a shirt. She was being carried carefully in his arms, and as she peered around she saw he'd brought her to her grandmother's tent. Her usual repugnance at being so close to anything of the male species was almost non-existent as she tried to piece together exactly what was happening and why he had her in the first place.

"Wha-?" she managed obscurely. Her grandmother was quickly pulling blankets off her cot to make room for Arabella, and Adnah placed her gently in it before she could come up with something more intelligent, or before she could become coherent enough to start struggling.

"It's okay." Adnah told her quietly. "That freak tried to escape, and knocked you out in the process. It's just a bump in the head, I think." He continued to her grandmother. Don't worry… we got him back."

Tsifia frowned slightly; clearly offended that Adnah would think she was even remotely concerned about whether or not a prisoner had gotten away. Her one and only concern was Arabella, and whether or not she would be all right.

Hearing about Erik's recapture, Arabella attempted to get to her feet. Her grandmother gently pressed her back – not to make her lie down, but at least to keep her seated.

"Don't move." She commanded. "I know exactly what you're thinking, and it's out of the question!"

Adnah, who seemed rather anxious to scurry away instead of lurking about as he normally would, smirked at her.

"I'll slap him a good one for you." He promised, before ducking out of the tent. Arabella again tried to stand, this time with her fists and teeth clenched painfully, but Tsifia again pushed her down – not so gently this time.

"Move from that spot again before I tell you," she warned "and I'll give you a sleeping draft instead of a few poultices."

"I can't just let them beat him again!" Arabella finally found her voice, and she was surprised at just how hot it came. "He managed to make his attempt because of me! He just wants to get away! That's not good enough reason to take it out on him!"

"You don't think they're concerned about yet another one of their freaks making a break for it, do you?" Tsifia asked with a dark chuckle. "My dear, there are actually people in this camp who care about you other than me. They're furious over you, not what he did in general."

"Well, that's not good enough, either!" Arabella fumed.

"Last warning." Tsifia told her simply. "Now, you stay put, or I'll make sure you're kept away from that tent all hours of every day for the rest of your life. You put too much of yourself into those people."

Arabella obeyed, although there was a storm in her eyes that could easily have rivaled a hurricane sent by the Gods. The only thing that kept her patiently being treated was the love and respect she had for Tsifia. Anyone else would have been shoved to the floor long before being given an ultimatum.

Everyone but her father, that is.

"Bunica…" she whispered finally, once the poultice sat drying on her forehead. "…he's only a boy. He's barely older than I am."

"Bella…" Tsifia grinned. "You're hardly a child anymore. Even by the standards of the settlers, you're getting plenty old enough to start thinking about starting a family of your own. If this boy really is so close to your own age…"

"That doesn't make him a man!" Arabella argued heatedly, refusing to acknowledge the recognition of her own age. It was bad enough Adnah had his eye on her constantly, and her Father's hands all over her. She didn't need to be thinking about sharing a bed with a man on a regular basis. She hoped never to share a bed with any man. "Bunica… if you could just hear his voice…"
"I'm sure he is still more child than man." Tsifia agreed after a moment of thought, clearly misunderstanding although Arabella couldn't be sure whether it was deliberate or not. "Someone with the problems they're saying he has… well… a childlike mind wouldn't be much of a surprise."

Arabella sighed, closing her eyes in weariness. She couldn't try to argue whether or not the boy was simpleminded or fully functioning. He hadn't given her enough clues about any of that yet. All she could see was a human being suffering greatly… and she hated to see anyone suffering. Her life more than made up for all the suffering in the world that ought to be endured. Why should she let it happen to others if she could prevent it – whatever its' form?
"He has a name." she finally breathed. "He called himself… Erik."

Erik had known what would happen to him once he was caught. He was fully prepared for the brutal beating he knew was well deserved after what he'd done to the innocent girl who'd just – if he was correct – been trying to help. Then again, he knew so little of young women and their ability for kindness or cruelty. All he had to go on was how his mother had treated him… and that one friend she'd had… But his mothers' friend had been petrified of him, what with his Devils' face and his demons' gifts… He couldn't guess whether or not the girl he'd knocked unconscious had been afraid of him or not. She hadn't seemed afraid…

However badly they treated him, the beating was not as bad as the others he'd already suffered that day. Soon enough, he was left alone in the tented room. Someone had finished cleaning the escape during his beating, and it was locked tight. No one remained to continue taunting him, or even to guard him. All he could do was lay in the empty cage – now empty even of straw until someone decided to refurbish it – and stare at the shadows dancing on the canvas of the tent. It was getting cold out, and his body began to shiver a little.

Due to the cold, the fear, and the beatings, he began to drift… fantasizing about how his mothers' dresses smelled after being in sunlight for a few hours… or how delicious her meals could be when he could bring himself to eat them. He had thought he was running away from a life of Hell… had thought he and his mother would both be better off…

Well… now he knew better, didn't he? And he would likely never survive to keep from making the same kind of mistake again.