Anji tried to sit up and found her wrists locked together with iron manacles, her legs tied together with a length of thick rope. Another short span of rope connected her chains and the binds around her ankles. She twitched her head from side to side so quickly the headache from the night before came calling between her eyes like a knife wedged into her brow.

A camp. This was a camp. A thin mare was tied to a stake beside a flapping gray canvas tent. A neat stack of pots and pans near a crackling fire, and behind the flames, writing in a leather-bound notebook—

“You.”

Only the word sounded more like ooo. Anji gagged. A bolt of rough fabric had been wrapped around the base of her skull and jammed between her teeth. Icy panic lanced through her stomach.

“Good morning,” came the voice behind the mask, that sonorous rasp. “I’ll thank you to keep silent while we’re exposed. There are others hunting you.”

“Mmmph phukooo viish!” Anji said, squirming in her bonds. She tried to scramble to her knees, but only slammed into the dirt.

The Hawk sighed and tucked the notebook and pencil away. She filled one of the pots with water from a metal canteen and settled it on a rock near the fire. “You’re only tightening those knots. Lie back and be quiet. You’ll have water and something to eat in a moment.”

Anji worked the gag, sawing at the cloth with her teeth. The dense fabric held, digging into her neck, cutting against her ears. She strained until her tongue ached, until saliva dripped down her chin, catching in the chill wind like ice forming on her skin. She let out a muffled scream, eyes shut tight.

“Enough of that,” the voice sounded again, and now the woman was on her feet, stepping around the fire. She squatted down next to Anji, gloved hands out as though calming a wild animal.

Anji recoiled, spitting through the gag, arms and legs flailing. She could feel the grip of the bindings digging into her ankles more with every turn, but she didn’t care. Her heart slammed against her ribs. She needed air. She had to get up and unbound and away—far away. She twisted and thrashed in the cold dirt, her throat raw from screeching through the cloth. Dust caked the side of her face, her nostrils, the corner of her eye. She had a hazy view of the Hawk kneeling down, then felt the iron-tight grip of a hand around her arm. The pain made Anji freeze.

“I’ll remove the gag, so long as you’re quiet,” the Hawk said, her voice calm, “but you stay tied. Fair?”