She was free, but Lilia’s feet and hands were numb from days of poor circulation. The other woman grabbed hold of Lilia’s tunic. Cold mud bit her bare skin. The tunic came free. She kicked out at one of them; hit him in the jaw with her bad hand. Pain rocked up her arm. The third man returned without the coat and held her down while they stripped her of the last of her clothes. The men bunched up her pants and linen and ran back into the camp.

Lilia staggered to her feet and fell. It was the first time she had tried to stand in two days. She rubbed at her bare skin and the new bruises forming over her old ones.

Her despair was deep. But so was the cold.

She crept toward the outer edges of the dwellings. She wrapped her arms around herself for warmth. The men watched her as she moved. Her feet and fingers were numb. She huddled against the flimsy side of a shelter, shivering.

The smell of urine was strong; someone was using the space between the shelters as a latrine.

The temperature dropped as night lengthened. Lilia scooped up some of the mud and slathered it onto her body. She had read of someone doing that in a Dorinah novel, only they had mixed fat with the mud. Soon enough, the mud would freeze and dry and flake off.

People passed her many times, but the only light in the camp came from the smoky fires, and she was so covered in mud that many did not even glance at her. She dozed sometime in the darkest hours of the night and woke to find two men near her, the same men who had stolen her pants. She froze under their gazes, their outlines just visible – she remembered their forms and their smell. She waited, thinking they had made a mistake, thought she had something else they could steal.

Then the men grabbed hold of her, yanked her painfully up. They were big men. She twisted and bit at them, but they pulled her farther into the camp. They were laughing and joking, crude jokes. Lilia let out a long scream. The man holding her cuffed her. She tasted blood.

He had a good hold on her, and his companion was just behind, ready to grab her up if she squirmed away. The man who held her had a ratted tongue of black hair circling his head, and a heavy beard.

She let herself go lax and fell back into him with the full weight of her body. He stumbled again, not expecting her submission. Her head fell back onto his shoulder. She looked at the folded flesh of his ear.

Her gorge rose.

Lilia took her assailant’s ear in her mouth and bit down, hard.

The man screeched. He released her and jerked away. The top of his ear came away in Lilia’s mouth.