She laughed at the Justin and Michael’s banter, her spirits lifting a bit, until the man with gray hair got their attention, and the reminder of what had just happened hit her like a brick. [i]Oh yeah, I got an entire village butchered.[/i] Cameron frowned at the man’s gratefulness as she watched Justin walk off with the others, slightly nervous to be alone with the seemingly powerful commander, but his demeanor was kind, so she relaxed her tense muscles a bit. Her eyes scanned the room to make sure they were alone before speaking. 

“Don’t thank me, Commander,” she began quietly, not making eye contact with him and her hand grazing the cheekbone the man had struck. “They’re… they were looking for me. Or rather, something I have.” She felt nervous telling this man about the dumb box in her pack, but Justin seemed to trust him, and somehow, she now trusted Justin. “I’m from the Chesapeake settlement. John, one of the village elders, sent me up this way with, um, an item. Something of great importance. I had no idea it would draw this much… attention.” Her icy blue eyes finally made their way to the his dark ones, hoping she wouldn’t face hatred or punishment from the Commander. “I’m so sorry. Here,” she murmured as she flipped her backpack to the front of her torso and pulled it out gently. “It’s locked. Not sure what or who can open it. All I know is I have to protect it until the right hands get on it,” she spoke lowly, taking it back from the man and stuffing it back into her now empty pack.  

She sighed before continuing. “I’m not a warrior, or anyone of high standing. I got this box simply because I was alive. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, obviously,” she scoffed as one of her hand’s waved to their surroundings. Her eyes began to well with tears as she squeezed them shut to collect herself. “My village was flattened by the same crew. I don’t know anything about them other that they desperately want this thing.” Her stare shot back down to her worn leather boots. “If you don’t want me to stay, I completely understand.”

Truthfully, she did not want to leave. The nomad lifestyle in this type of environment was not possible for a woman – she’d been dead or enslaved in a week – and the option to go back home no longer existed. Cameron had even made a friend, kind of, which after nearly a year of solitude felt like a foreign concept. She felt safe here, and that feeling was something that she didn’t want to lose. But, she knew she didn’t deserve to be selfish now. Her village would execute someone who brought on so much turmoil to their home. 

“All I ask before I go,” she said in her almost permanently hoarse voice, “is that my side could be cleaned and wrapped. Won’t last long out there with an infection, huh?” she joked, trying to lighten the tense mood in the room. Her fingers left the wound and she eyed them – fresh blood was still leaking from it. Her body and face were glistening with sweat and blood – both hers and the man who attempted to shoot her.