Lions and Lambs

Chapter 8

Sabine

A tugging at her stomach finally awoke her. She was hungry and according to the dapples of light on the wall across from her bed, it was daytime. Sabine pushed off the covers, ran a hand through her tangled mass of hair, and left the room for the first time. She walked past open doors and screaming children without paying them a glance- she turned her gaze away from mothers that clutched babies to their breasts and called for haggard husbands to hurry up with food.

She was hungry, and that was all.

The gentle rocking of the ship was still unfamiliar to her, and she hadn't yet figured out how to move on this unfamiliar continent. As she swayed with eyes glued forward, the other passengers darted out of her way like she was some kind of sea-sick monster. Sabine payed them no mind, focusing only on her growling stomach.

It wasn't until she poked her head into the fresh air that she realized just how sour it smelled down there. It had only been a day or so, yet body odor and the general stench of life flourished in those close quarters. The deck was better as she had grown used to the stench of fish and ocean.

The sailors ignored her for the most part as she followed a trail of people to the saloon where a few long tables were crammed against one wall with what looked like a makeshift kitchen on the other. Sabine slipped among the distracted adults and snatched a plate of salted fish and a tiny biscuit from the cook, then she moved to eat in a corner by herself. The food disintegrated on her tongue and turned to mush between her teeth; better it have no taste than remind her of Step-mother and those stale meals she used to labor over all day.

After glancing at the iron ring on her finger, it occurred to her that she hadn't seen Cassian so far. It wasn't like there were many places for a passenger to hide, unless he had somehow managed to disguise himself as one of the many sailors going about their business. But no, something made it impossible to overlook him so someone would notice before he could pretend for long. An urge to go search for him flashed through her for a second, but she quickly let it slide away as the effort seemed too extensive to manage.

As she ate, she attempted to tune out the chattering voices around her. Sabine did not want to hear about Leena's behavior, nor did she care about the debts that were still getting around to be payed. It exhausted her, listening to all of that pointless drabble, and beneath it there was a suggestive whisper in her ear, one that implied nasty things and made her blood curdle.

No more of this. She was tired.

Four more bites of fish and bread: salty fingers smearing grease against clothing: quick footsteps disappearing back down into that dark place: smells like humanity: duck for cover beneath a thin blanket.

Sleep again, sleep so that the whispers would quiet down.