The forest gave way to cultivated fields, and the cultivated fields gave way to the sprawl of civilization. The trees thinned, replaced by hedgerows and stone walls, and then the walls themselves grew taller and more imposing until they merged into a single, continuous barrier that encircled the city of Thornwall like the ramparts of a fortress.
Lyra and Aelindra watched from the crest of a low hill, the morning sun warming their backs. The city gates stood open, a massive arch of weathered oak and iron, wide enough to admit two wagons abreast. A steady stream of people flowed in and out---farmers leading cattle, merchants with carts piled high with goods, travelers on foot, and others whose purpose was less clear. From this distance, Lyra could see that not all of them were human. A tall figure with pointed ears and green skin, carrying a staff of gnarled wood, walked beside a pair of burly humans arguing over the price of copper. Further down the line, a small, bearded creature with ears like a fox and a long, bushy tail darted between the legs of a merchant, snatching something from his boot before disappearing into the crowd.
Lyra's stomach twisted. It was one thing to know, intellectually, that this world was different. It was another to see the evidence before her eyes---creatures from fantasy stories and anime, walking and talking and arguing over prices. She glanced at Aelindra, whose silver hair caught the sunlight, and felt a fresh wave of disbelief. "Elves. And... and that other one... with the tail."
Aelindra followed her gaze and nodded. "Foxkin. Not common, but you see them around. Usually as messengers or thieves." She turned back to the gates. "We need to get you into the city. And soon. Before those orcs decide to be more thorough about their revenge."
Lyra looked down at herself. Her skin was smudged with dirt from the forest, her feet were scraped and sore from the rough terrain, and she was completely, utterly naked. The shame was a constant, physical weight, a burning heat that spread from her cheeks down her neck and across her chest. She crossed her arms over her breasts, pressed her thighs together, and tried to look anywhere but at the people flowing into the city.
"How?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "They'll never let me in. I'm... I'm not exactly presentable."
Aelindra's eyes softened for a moment. "You're not 'presentable,'" she agreed. "But you're alive, and that's what matters. Don't worry about it. I have a plan."
The plan involved a merchant named Bren, a man with a round belly, a balding head, and a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. His wagon was piled high with barrels of what he claimed was the finest wine from the southern vineyards, and he was heading into the city to sell his stock.
Aelindra approached him as he was hitching his horse to the traces. "Bren, right? I've seen you at the guild hall. You're a wine merchant."
Bren looked up, his smile widening. "That's me. What can I do for you, elf? And your... friend."
His gaze flickered over Lyra, taking in her nakedness with a quick, appraising glance that made her skin crawl. She tried to shrink behind Aelindra, but it was impossible. Aelindra stepped slightly in front of her, subtly blocking his view.
"She needs to get into the city," Aelindra said. "Unnoticed. The orcs have been hunting her, and they're close. I can pay."
She reached into a small pouch at her belt and produced a silver coin. Bren's eyes lit up. "Silver? For that?" He looked Lyra up and down again, more slowly this time. "She's a bit... exposed, isn't she? The guards might ask questions."
"They won't if you can get her in without them seeing her," Aelindra countered. "I'll pay you another silver once we're inside."
Bren considered this, his tongue poking out to wet his lips. "Another silver? That's a lot of wine money."
"For the risk," Aelindra said. "And for your discretion."
He nodded. "Fine. Get in the back. Among the barrels. Don't make a sound. If the guards find you, you're on your own."
Aelindra handed him the coin, and Bren pocketed it with a smile that was more genuine this time. He gestured to the back of his wagon, where the barrels were stacked in a precarious-looking pyramid. "Hop in. We're leaving in five minutes."
Lyra's heart sank as she approached the wagon. The back was a cramped, dark space, and the only way in was to climb over the side and squeeze between the heavy, curved wood of the barrels. She hesitated, her arms still crossed over her chest, her body tense with shame and apprehension.
Aelindra placed a hand on her shoulder. "It's all right. Just a few minutes. We'll be in the city before you know it."
Lyra nodded, unable to speak. She took a deep breath, gathered what little dignity she had left, and climbed into the wagon. The space was even smaller than she had imagined. The barrels were cold and hard against her bare skin, and the smell of wine was thick and cloying. She wedged herself sideways against the barrels, one arm wrapped loosely around her shins. The angle left one breast partially visible from the side, though she was too exhausted to care.
Aelindra gave her a reassuring nod and closed the flap, plunging Lyra into near darkness. The wagon lurched as Bren climbed onto the driver's seat, and with a crack of the whip and a creak of wheels, they were off.
The journey to the city gates was a torture of anticipation and humiliation. Every bump in the road jolted Lyra against the barrels, the rough wood scraping against her sensitive skin. The wine smell was overwhelming, and she could feel the cold dampness of the barrels against her bare skin. She tried to make herself as small as possible, her mind racing with what might happen if they were discovered. Would the guards laugh? Would they arrest her? Would they... something worse?
The wagon slowed. Lyra heard voices---Bren's, and others. The guards. Her heart hammered against her ribs. She held her breath, pressing herself even deeper into the shadows between the barrels.
"Bren, my man," a rough voice said. "What have you got for us today?"
"Only the finest southern wine, Captain," Bren replied, his voice smooth and confident. "Straight from the vineyards. A gift for the citizens of Thornwall."
"Hmph. Let's have a look, then."
Lyra heard the creak of the wagon as someone climbed onto the back. Her body tensed, every muscle screaming at her to run, to hide, to do something. The guard's footsteps were heavy on the wooden planks, coming closer and closer. She could hear him breathing, the sound of his boots scuffing against the wood. He stopped right in front of her hiding spot.
"Open one of these," the guard said.
"Open one?" Bren's voice was a touch higher than before. "But Captain, the cork---"
"Open it," the guard repeated, and Lyra could hear the steel in his voice. "I want to taste it."
Lyra closed her eyes, her body rigid with terror. The guard was right there. If he looked down, if he saw her... She could feel his presence, the warmth of his body, the smell of sweat and leather. Her hands were clenched into fists, her knuckles white. She was trapped, exposed, utterly vulnerable.
The sound of a cork being pulled was followed by the glug-glug-glug of wine pouring into a cup. The guard took a sip, then another. "Not bad," he said. "Not bad at all. You can pass."
Lyra's body sagged with relief as the guard's footsteps receded and the wagon began to move again. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. They were in. They were safe.
The wagon rolled into the city, the sounds of the market---shouts, laughter, the clatter of hooves on stone---filling the air around her. She waited, expecting Aelindra to open the flap, but the wagon just kept moving. It turned, the sounds changing from market noise to something quieter, more residential. It turned again. Lyra's relief began to give way to confusion, then to a creeping sense of dread.
Where was Aelindra? Where were they going?
The wagon finally stopped. The flap opened, and Bren's face appeared, his smile as wide as ever.
"Welcome to Thornwall," he said. "And welcome to your new home."
Lyra blinked in the sudden light, her eyes adjusting to the bright afternoon sun. The wagon was in a narrow alleyway, hemmed in by tall, dilapidated buildings. Bren was looking down at her, and his smile was no longer friendly. It was predatory.
"W-what do you mean?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"Your friend paid me to get you into the city," Bren said. "She didn't say anything about where you were going after that. So I figured I'd keep you. You're worth more than two silvers on the right market."
He reached into the wagon and grabbed her arm, his grip like iron. Lyra tried to pull away, but he was too strong. He hauled her out of the wagon and onto the cobblestones of the alley. She was still naked, her body on full display in the harsh light of day. The shame was immediate and overwhelming, a wave of heat that made her dizzy.
"Let me go!" she cried, twisting and kicking, but it was useless. Bren just laughed and dragged her toward the door of one of the buildings. "Aelindra!" she shouted, her voice echoing off the stone walls. "Aelindra, help me!"
But there was no answer. Only the distant sounds of the city and the mocking laughter of the merchant.
Bren shoved her through the door and into a dark, damp room. It was empty except for a single, rusted iron cage in the corner. He pushed her toward it, and she stumbled, her bare feet slipping on the cold stone floor.
"You can stay here until I figure out what to do with you," he said, closing the cage door behind her with a clang that echoed in the small room. "Don't worry. I'll bring you some food. And maybe some clothes. Eventually."
With that, he was gone, locking the door behind him and leaving Lyra alone in the darkness, naked, terrified, and utterly helpless.
