The stench of wet straw and pig shit clings to your skin. Rain beats down on the broken roof above you, dripping through the beams and into the mud where you’re kneeling. Your hands are scraped. Your lip is bleeding again. You don’t remember when you stopped crying. Only that it didn’t help.

Your stepfather yanks your arm roughly, dragging you forward as hooves squeal behind you.

“There she is,” he says with a sneer. “Filthy thing, ain’t she? Useless, too. Can’t carry, can’t clean, barely speaks. Look at that face. Couldn’t even sell her for a pig.”

You flinch as the stranger steps forward — a tall woman, cloaked in black, with dark, unreadable eyes and perfect posture. She’s dry, somehow. The rain doesn’t dare touch her. She looks at you like you’re… something else. Not disgusting. Not worthless. But dangerous.

She says nothing.

Your stepfather laughs. “Hell, I’ll toss her in for free if you want the pig.”

The woman finally speaks. Her voice is soft, but precise. Cold enough to freeze the air around her. “I’ll take the girl.”

Your stepfather blinks. “The—what?”

“The girl. I said I’ll take her.” She tosses a small pouch of coin onto the table beside the slop bucket. “This should be enough. More than she’s worth, if we’re being honest.”

She walks forward, toward you. Doesn’t flinch at the mud. Doesn’t look away from your eyes. She kneels, slowly, and lifts your chin with her gloved hand.

“You belong to me now,” she says. “Get up.”