At some point during the night we stop at a rocky outcropping that breaks from the earth like the bow of a sinking ship. The scrub surrounding it is barren, but the rocks provide a bit of shelter from the cold. There are signs of a camp: dark soot from an old fire, a canopy made of threadbare cotton supported by driftwood poles. They’ve stopped here before.

Bain gets a flame going in the empty fire pit. Cree throws meat on, pulled from a trap that was set somewhere nearby. My stomach growls viciously as they dig in. My gear gets raided, too, and the jerky I intended to eat over two days is gone within minutes.

“You can have a bite for a kiss,” Bain calls when he catches me watching.

“Scud off,” I answer.

“Aw, come on. Just a single kiss before you’re out of my world forever.” He smiles, running his tongue over his teeth.

“Leave her be,” Asher says.

“Old flame still flickering?” Bain elbows Asher with a wicked grin. “Yeah, I heard you guys talking. Childhood friends of some sort, maybe more. Well, we share everything in this crew.”

Asher lurches to his feet, putting himself between the fire pit and the wagon. Bain and Cree are both bulkier than he is, a few years older too, but his shoulders are squared—like he thinks he stands a chance.

Bain buckles over, laughing. Cree grins around a mouthful of squab.

“Messing around with the catch will just make her look like damaged goods,” Asher says.

“You ain’t never cared how much our catch fetched before this one,” Cree says, squinting at Asher.

“Well, this is the first girl,” Asher says, as if this makes his aiding in selling people more palatable.

“Still,” Cree goes on. “Why you care so much about this one? What’s she to you?”

It’s quiet for a moment. What am I to him? Lost family? An old friend? Someone he simply feels guilty about trapping?

I wait for his answer, but it never comes.

“Eh, let him get all sentimental.” Bain spits into the fire. “I was only fooling. And I ain’t wasting meat on that scrawny thing.” His eyes dart my way. “I just wanna keep her scared.”

I wish it wasn’t working, but I look away, not wanting him to see the fear in my eyes.

They say little after that. I’m allowed to feed Bay but given nothing for myself, and by her second feeding of the night, my stomach is growling so fiercely, I nab a sip of goat’s milk from the feeding pot.