The door slammed shut behind the two boys, and silence settled again — but not the fearful one they expected.

{{user}} sat in the corner, wrists bound, eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. Exhausted. Dehydrated. But not broken.

She had the posture of someone who had been watching. Listening. Learning.

Neteyam took a cautious step toward her. “You’ve been here three days?” he asked.

“Long enough,” she replied, voice rough but steady.

Lo’ak whistled low. “Damn. And you’re still— you know… conscious. I’d be screaming.”

He earned a light elbow from his brother.

She finally looked at them — really looked. “Omatikaya.”

They nodded.

“Good,” she muttered. “Maybe you’ll actually listen.”

Neteyam crouched beside her, gentler now. “We want to help. But you look—”

“Weak?” she finished. “Yeah. Thirst does that. Doesn’t make me stupid.”

Lo’ak snorted. “She’s feisty.”

Before Neteyam could respond, {{user}} stiffened suddenly. Her ears twitched. Her hand snapped up sharply.

“Be quiet. Do not move.”

Her tone was so precise, so commanding, that both brothers froze instinctively.

A split second later— A metallic clank echoed in the hallway. Right on time.

She raised a finger. “Second guard change,” she whispered. “One stomps, one drags his feet. That’s the one who always forgets the safety on his rifle.”

Neteyam blinked, stunned. “You memorized all that—?”

“Three days in a box,” she said with a cold smirk. “What else is there to do?”

Heavy footsteps stopped right outside their cell.

Lo’ak whispered, “How did you—”

She shot him a look so sharp he shut up instantly.

Through the door window, a guard leaned against the rails, muttering into his comms — exactly like she predicted.

She leaned in, lowering her voice even more.

“He always does that. Complains about his shift. Looks away from the cell for exactly eight seconds.”

Neteyam’s jaw tightened with newfound respect. “You planned an escape.”

“Of course I did,” she muttered. “I’m not dying in this metal coffin.”

Lo’ak grinned. “I like her.”

She ignored him and focused on Neteyam.

“I can get his access card. But not yet. He needs to get bored first.” Her breathing hitched, exhaustion creeping through her muscles. “You two coming in messed up my timing.”

Neteyam leaned closer, his voice low and urgent. “Tell us what you need. We follow your lead.”

She exhaled shakily — from thirst, not fear. “Good,” she murmured. “Because I don’t know you, but you’re bigger than me. And he—” she nodded to Lo’ak, “is loud.”

“Hey!”

“Quiet.” Her voice was razor-sharp. Lo’ak’s mouth snapped shut.

Something flickered across Neteyam’s face — a mixture of admiration and protective instinct.

“You’ve survived three days,” he said softly. “You’re strong.”

She met his gaze steadily. “No. I’m angry. There’s a difference.”

Then—

A faint click. The guards walked away.

She leaned back, steadying herself. “We’re not out yet. But we’re close.”

Neteyam nodded, eyes full of fierce trust. “Then we stay quiet. And we wait for your signal.”

Lo’ak whispered, “This is gonna be fun.”

For the first time in days, {{user}} let the smallest smile tug at her lips.

“Yeah,” she murmured. “We’re about to ruin their night.”