Everything went hazy. The ceiling had dancing flames of fire flicking about; my body felt like molten lava and ice in a single breath. As the antiseptic treats my wounds, I growl and whine. I was trying to bite toward the hand that tended to me. Haziness clouds my sight as it slowly clears revealing the two men, long-haired one pinning me down, struggling with his words as I thrashed. Tray tries to dress my wounds as I struggle. Biting his arm, he stilled and waited for me to unhinge my jaw. Lurch toward him growling, the kineticism sent my head spinning. The soft futon was becoming my pillow —the warmth of the fire seeping into my worn-out body as scrumming to the warmth and darkness.

The sunny morning graced the paneled ceiling with soft yellows and blues with herbs' warm curls around me, waking me. A large hot bowl of soup was placed next to me with a small ladle and chopsticks upon it. I surveyed the room and, seeing no one gingerly got up. Hunched over the bowl, I used the chopsticks to obtain a mouthful of noodles, which scorched my mouth and tongue. My stomach is too hungry to notice as I swallow the hot food.

A floorboard creaks my eyes shoot up, finding Tray with a soft bandage around his forearm and maneuvering to the corner of the room as I barre my teeth.  He extended his palms out, lowering himself on his haunches. He wore a soft white kimono, which didn’t hide his muscular body. I stared him down only to find his eyes were green, bright green that seem to flow like a river. “Hey, now take it easy, I mean you no harm,” breaking eye contact as I snarl. He stayed at the edge of the room; I waited, muscles tense, ready to spring. A wave of pain rolled over me, causing me to stumble. Tray reaches out to help; I snarled and managed to steady myself. I curled into a tight ball before darkness envelopes me.

My eyes open not focusing as someone is picking me up as my body complains I moan quietly. An explosion of cold as the being lowers me into the bath, the rough wood against my back. My lungs spasm as I gasp for air. I feel hands on me. I tried to pull away, only have blackness swept over me again. The warmth wrapped around me as my breathing as the fire crackled. My eyes were springing open, and this time I froze and feigned unconscious. Tray was on the other side of the room, leaning against the wall feet out toward the fire. His eyes half closed, only to open them when I looked at him. “My name is Tray. What’s yours?” he starts to inch closer; I snarled and started to back up, finding my body stiff and sore. Flexing my hands, surprised that my body behaved itself. Tray got up and began to reach toward me. I flinch, making myself small and moving away. The other man enters with a platter of food. He paused. “Ah, good; She’s awake.” He sets the platter just outside the edge of the room, motions to Tray. He gets up, and they both leave the room. I stay posed, ready to go. My resolve abates as the scent of fresh bread makes my stomach plead and my mouth water. I snatch the piece of bread and push myself into the far corner, wolfing the bread, not once taking my eyes off the door.

Over the next few days of my peculiar confinement, I found out that the man with the long hair was named Henry. That they were brothers, the Livingston, Henry the eldest, would bring me food while Tray would try to befriend me. Sitting calmly, he would scoot closer occasionally, I stayed quiet, only snarling in reply if he drew too close. I knew I had to find a bounty to take me off world, but I needed my weapons first. Henry had hidden them from me.

One day Tray touched my arm as he tended my wounds.  At his touch, the urge to crawl into his lap and press against his chest and stay there pulled at me with a great river of yearning. Never had I had the urge to be touched in prison touch meant to harm and danger. I shook my head fighting back the urge, and he asked,” What was the matter, Yung.” The two brothers had nicknamed me Yung, meaning lost one. I didn’t say anything, just huffed. He didn’t press it and left me alone after a while. When he didn’t come back, I fell asleep on the futon curled up in the blankets.

The next morning, I awoke with a strange mark about my shoulder; it curves and staggers down, snaking in jagged points toward my elbow. As I tried to study it, it disappeared; I rubbed my skin, but could not find a trace of whatever it was.  Henry came in standing at the entry. He motioned for me, “come eat. Hmm, I bet you hungry,” turning and for once leaving the door open, slowly I get up and walk over looking into the grand living room seeing Henry set the bowl on the table. Tangled up in bedding, I stood watching. Henry sits down at the table and eats while his brother does the same. My stomach growls in protest, “Couldn’t I just give her some food in her room” ask Tray.  Henry shakes his head, “if she’s hungry, she’ll have to come and eat at the table.” I grumbled a whine, and Henry chuckled. The hot food soon turned cold as I cautiously ventured out to the living room, each step ready to spring back to my safe place. With no weapons on me, I feel naked, my eyes dart to every part of the room. Tray's head peeked up at my movement, which sent me back toward my room; he sighed. “Come eat, please. No harm will come to you. You are safe” I couldn’t take any chances, I had to find my weapons. I gnashed my teeth in reply, they left the living room, with Henry in the kitchen, and Tray went out. I snuck over to the now cold bowl snatching it up and racing back to the safety of my room.

Outside the sliding doors, a large cherry blossom tree with a well with a fence bordering it. The sun on my skin felt warm and inviting; sneaking out, I lay on the wooden deck to be enveloped by the warmth. I hadn’t felt the sun in years without the fear of burning to ashes, I relaxed. The laundry softly fluttering in the wind and the smell of the sweet grass and cooking, I found myself dozing off like a cat bathing in the sun.

White walls in a child playroom with dull-colored toys and a bench lined the room. The girl threw a toy across the room. A well-built man picked it up and brought it back to her. She huffed, folding her arms and turning away. The man crouched down, his green eyes caring, he opens his mouth to speak. . .

Someone's hand touched my shoulder, jumping out of my position, pulled back, staring into Tray’s startled face, as he sprang back similarly. “I didn’t mean to scare you, but I thought you might want to spar with me.” I blinked away the sleep, absentmindedly tilting my head, my hair falling out behind my ear. He chuckled, “I mean, I saw how you fought a bit when you were wounded and thought you might want some practice. We have gear you can use. And I could be your sparring partner if you want”. Standing in the doorway, Henry dried his hands on his apron. “ah, there you are,” he smiled softly. “come eat,” he waved his hand as he turned back inside. Tray followed suit and hang around, looking back at me “ are you coming?” I slowly fallowed into the living room. They were being peculiar keeping me here, trying to befriend me and educate me. Why did they feel the need to help me. The table had rice and vegetables steamed with sweet-smelling sauce in various bowls and plates. The brothers sat and filled their bowls; Henry patted the seat next to him. My back toward the wall, I watched them eat and conversed amongst themselves. I stood watching for a bit and scuttled up the steps towards the room I inhabited. “come sit at the table and eat if you want food,” Henry didn’t look at me while he said it only pick up food with his chopstick and places it in his bowl. I quietly snarled, the growl grating my throat. Tray looked worried as they finished eating. “Can’t we just put her meals at the door like we’ve been doing” The eldest brother cutting in while the other talked, “No, she has to learn manners if she wants to eat?” The younger brother sighs and cleared his place, and headed toward the kitchen. Henry put away the food. The cold air shrouded me as I curled up in the futon and huddled to sleep.

I awoke to a warmer room, with a small narrow plate placed by my head with a couple of rice balls on it. I found myself alone. Scarfing the small meal down, I ventured out in the moonlit living room and later to the kitchen. I search around for a knife or any way to defend myself but couldn’t find anything. I sat on the porch, watching for movement, finding none. I made my way through the soft grass to the well, pulling the wet rope and bucket up onto the ledge of the well as quietly as I could. The full moon stared back at me. The grass moved, and I swung my arm out, yet he blocks my move while the bucket sloshed to the ground. “I thought I heard you out here,” he dropped his arm and looked up at the moon, “isn't she beautiful.” He closes his eyes and seems to drink in her light. The moon is staring back at me through the water—my thirst from seeing the water intensified. I never felt the urge to drink like this, must be the fever. My body seems to twist and writhe when all I wanted to do was drive into the bucket being swallowed whole. Tray nudged me with the ladle. I stared at it and proceeded to take the bucket and dump it on my head, mouth open. Loud laughter erupted from him as he grabs his sides dropping the ladle. I stared at him setting my jaw, “I’ve never seen someone do that,” he said, wiping his eyes heading toward the back of the house. “come on, let’s get you into something warm and dry”

The wind licks at me with cold while we went to the side of the house. Handing me a towel he bent down to stoke the coals under the wooden tub. “come undress, I promise I won’t look,” he said. The water looked so inviting and warm. I hopped in before my head could disagree with the warm water seeping into the fabric of my kimono, absentmindedly relaxing. Tray chuckled and stoked the coals causing the water to bubble softly. “ I hope you know that Henry and I won’t hurt you. You're safe with us.” He looked at the coals while he talked. At that point stood up and disrobed. I blush, noticing his toned body, he slipped in.  Pressing myself against the side of the wooden tub. He relaxes under my stare, letting out a sigh as his arms curved around the rim of the tub. I felt this odd fleeting pull to touch his skin, unblemished from battles and fights. Yet the greater part of me wanted to find my weapons and run far away.

Taking a breath in, trying to find my mettle, “where is my gear?” my voice sounded small and gravelly. His neck displays taut muscles, which snapped up with a warm smile, “I didn’t know you could talk,” ignoring my question, “What’s your name? What happened to you?” his eyes intently focused on me.  Letting silence be my answer, I fix my eyes on the water; the mirror showed me a swirling mess similar to mine on his chest. I snapped my head up, looking for it, finding only smooth skin. My body is starting to sweat from the heat. Henry appeared near startling me, managing not to jump out of my skin as my nails dug into my palms. “Now, Tray, let not swamp her with questions” he was holding a towel and placed it on a crate that stood up tall. As he did, “your weapons are safe along with your clothes or what we could salvage from them.” I exhaled, “Once your wounds heal, you can have them back.” Turning his back and taking a basket into the house.