Runa knelt on the hot sand along with every other slave. Her hair felt heavy and matted. She was unwashed and her personal hygiene had slipped since being captured.

It had slipped further, if it even existed at all anymore, when Antyza betrayed her.

She had stopped caring entirely what did or did not happen to her.

She watched for opportunities of escape, of course, but nothing else. She would get to Narran, at least. She could do that.

If ...