Chapter 2.4

Upon our return, I followed them directly into a long thin room containing ten portal beds, unfolded and put in rows. Here, the tension left the group, some laid on their backs reading a book or listening to music while other dispersed into other parts of the building after unpacking a few of their belongings in the crate left on its side next to the beds, forming a makeshift shelf and cabinet. I looked at the three spare beds and wondered if they belonged to those who'd died, but exhaustion pulled at my body, and before I could stop myself I was curled up in one of the beds, asleep as soon as my head hit the mattress.

Hours later, when the sky turned dark I was shaken awake, but at this point I was getting used to the rude awakenings I've been experiencing, and woke immediately, "Yo, kid you're in my bed." From what I could see of his face in the darkness, he was someone I hadn't met before, and at the other side where the two other vacant beds stood, two other men were climbing into them.

Confused and disorientated I scrambled out of the little nest I'd made, wiping sleep from my eyes. The man who'd spoken stepped around me and began to straighten the covers, wiping off the mud that had flaked off my clothes.

"Here!" Rickon called from across the room, and a couple of the men look up for a spectacle as he handed me a worn blanket and pointed to the floor beside his bed, his eyes were daring for me to protest but I knew better. If this last week had taught me anything, it was that these men were evil. The spectators went back to their activities, disappointed in my lack of refusal.

I gave the hard floor another despairing look before wrapping myself tightly in the blanket I was given and curling up on the floor. Despite it being worn, the blanket was large enough to wrap around me twice so that the cold radiating from the bare floor was lessened a little. Still, this cold floor was an upgrade from dirt and leaves in the forest, so compared to the last week it was pleasant, so I fell right back to sleep.

In the morning, a large bag was thumped down an inch from my face, the wind emanating from the force it hit the floor brushed against my face, rousing me from my sleep. "Wake up!" Rickons voice juts into my ears as I open my eyes, "we're going to a meeting now, if this isn't done by the time I get back I'll let Quin devise a punishment for you." He says, and he's already walking away by the time I sit up and inspect an impossibly large bag of washing. Huh? I looked at the canvas bag that towered over my head at where I sat, Washing? I scoured the room, but I was the only one left, everyone else had cleared out. How do I do that? I wondered.

The bag itself was more of a sack with two frayed handles either side and when I stood it came up to the middle of my chest. I pulled at the handles, but I could only lift it a couple of inches above the ground before my arms gave out and it flopped back, toppling over and spilling some of its contents. Let alone washing it, how on earth was I going to carry it?

I tried heaving it over my back to carry it over my shoulder, but it slipped straight from my hands and fell to the floor with a thump. Instead I emptied about half out and looped the handles through my arms to carry it like a rucksack, it made my back ache, but I could still move with enough mobility to get by. Outside the dorm, the corridor ran almost the length of the building, straight ahead lead outside and left went to the war room, so I headed right, the only place I hadn't been. There were many rooms leading off from it, most of which was closed and locked, and I had to assume the laundry room wouldn't be one of them. The corridor took me round to the back of the building, and after trying dozens of doors I was about to give up and turn back the way I came when I turned the knob of an unlocked door; I'd encountered so few unlocked rooms that it startled me when it swung inwards at my touch. I stumbled after it, the weight on my back followed through and I caught myself on the door frame. Inside was an office… or a small library, I wasn't sure. The facing wall was floor to ceiling covered in books, some old looking while others nearer the bottom were newer or active documents. Hanging off one of the shelves was a female uniform- the formal type, not the active type, like the ones used for ceremonies, perfectly steamed and displayed. The books were only interrupted by a gap in the wall where a large window rested to let in light with rich red curtains draping either side, and in front of it stood an oak desk scattered with papers and maps. At the other end was a bed, neatly made up in military fashion. I'd stumbled into someone's living quarters, and its resident, staring at me from across the room, hands hovering with documents in hand and a questionable look in her eye.