Soft, filtered sunlight gently warmed Sylvan's face, illuminating the insides of her eyelids and making her turn away. The soft warmth surrounding her was far too comfortable to risk letting disappear by waking up. A warm, fuzzy blanket, a soft mattress, and a pillow that cradled her head? This had to be a dream; she hadn't felt this comfortable since she was a little girl. Pain flared in her split lip as she put her face against the pillow, bringing memories flooding back to the forefront of her mind. She bolted upright, eyes darting around the strange room she was in, a startled cry escaping before she could cover her mouth. Panicked thoughts raced through her mind. Where was she? Who brought her here? And why? Had she been "recruited" by the men who ran the sex trade?

Just as she was getting ready to break down in tears, the door opened and a young, dark-haired woman entered, her expression one of concern. "Are you all right, m'lady? I heard you cry out. Are you in pain?"

Sylvan looked appraisingly at the other woman. Years of living by her wits had given her confidence in her ability to read people. This girl seemed friendly, her concern genuine, and she was far too clean and neatly dressed to be one of the whores from the local brothel. Looking around the room more calmly now, this place was also too nice to be a brothel. The large window was covered by light, thin curtains that let in plenty of light; the walls decorated with colorful tapestries; the bed and bedside table made of lovely dark wood and polished to a high shine; an ornate woven rug, patterned to match the tapestries, on the clean, stone floor. No, this was definitely not a house of ill repute: if anything, this had to be the home of someone wealthy, a noble perhaps- she had certainly burgled enough of them to know, though she'd never been in one with such nice furnishings.

A bit calmer, she turned back to the girl. "Where?" Sylvan croaked. She coughed, her throat dry.

"Oh! Hold on a moment, I'll bring you some water." The dark-haired girl left and Sylvan listened to her receding footsteps until they were no longer audible. She became painfully aware of her nudity then and pulled the blanket up, tucking it under her arms to hold it up.

The girl returned a moment later, some sort of ceramic cup in her hand. Sylvan took it gratefully, brought it to her lips and began drinking, slowly at first, letting the cool water soothe her dry throat. She drank every drop, sighing happily as she returned the empty cup. "Thank you. Um, where are we? How, uh, did I get here?"

"Master Corvus brought you here. This is his manor, in the city of Dragon's Rest."

"Master Corvus? Are you a slave?" Worry filled her voice as fear crept into her mind: had she been kidnapped by slavers? Her fear abated as the girl laughed, covering her mouth with her hand.

"Slave? Oh goodness, no! My husband and I work for Master Corvus, we're not owned by him. He will be most pleased that you are awake: he is eager to speak with you." Her smile was so warm and genuine that Sylvan couldn't help but relax. "Oh! Where are my manners? We haven't been properly introduced! My name is Anya, by the way. What should I call you?"

"I'm Sylvan. I have a lot of questions, but first I need to, um, you know. Answer the call of nature?" Her face flushed, embarrassed.

"Of course, of course! I'll be happy to show you to the bathroom. Afterwards I can draw you a bath if you like."

Sylvan's smile widened. "It's been so long. I would like that, thank you." She tried to stand, but her legs were unsteady and she sat back down heavily. "How long have I been asleep?"

"A bit over a full day- Master Corvus brought you here the night before last."

She shook her head. "I've never slept that long before. No wonder I can barely get up."

Anya led Sylvan to the bathroom then, helping steady her and keep her from falling and injuring herself. She gave her some privacy and went to retrieve some clothes for the younger girl to wear after her bath. When Anya returned, the door was open, so she went right in and was troubled by what she saw.

Sylvan was looking at herself in the large mirror on the far wall, her expression troubled, tears silently sliding down her cheeks. She had not seen her reflection in many years and was not at all happy with what she saw now: limp, greasy hair in a tangled mess about her shoulders; sickly pale skin crisscrossed with jagged scars from a life of street fights and and squeezing into places she didn't belong to pilfer valuables; the bruises and swollen lip from her assault; clearly visible ribs and cheekbones, sunken eyes, and too thin limbs from lack of food. Seeing her reflection was painful, a stark reminder of just how poorly she was doing. So focused was she on her frightening visage that she didn't notice Anya's return until the other was almost directly behind her. The stark contrast between them, one healthy, clean, and well-fed while the other was sickly, filthy, and nearly skeletal, hit her hard and made her silent tears turn to ragged sobs. Anya sat the dresses she'd brought on the the towel cabinet and quickly moved to Sylvan's side, holding her close as she cried. She had seen Sylvan's scarred body while she and Corvus had tended her fresh wounds, but hadn't even considered that the girl was unaware of the extent of her own past injuries. It made sense, she thought, mirrors were expensive luxuries: if she didn't have the money to eat, she surely couldn't afford a mirror.

Several moments passed, and once Sylvan had calmed a bit, Anya drew her a nice warm bath, manipulating the water crystals on the faucet with practiced ease. Sylvan watched in awe as steaming water flowed from an intricately carved dragon's head into the clean ceramic bathtub, tendrils of steam dancing on the water's surface. Anya stayed and helped Sylvan wash and untangle her hair, patiently working out the many knots and tangles, doing her best to keep the tugging to a minimum. Her persistence paid off, after nearly an hour of using a comb and her fingers, and liberal use of hair oil, she had managed to tame the girl's fiery mane.

The warm water made Sylvan feel human again as she soaked in its heat, relaxing her body as the gentle floral scent of the soap relaxed her mind. She never wanted to leave the warmth of the water, but her stomach had its own needs and began to growl and gurgle painfully. Embarassed by the noises coming from her belly, her cheeks and ears burned as she turned her head slightly to face Anya. "I, um, well..."

The dark-haired girl patted her shoulder gently. "There's some stew in the kitchen: it should nearly be ready by now. Why don't you finish up here then meet me downstairs? I'll prepare your meal while you dry off and get dressed. I'm sure you must be terribly hungry."

Sylvan smiled then, tears welling up in her eyes as Anya's kindness and concern touched her heart. "Thank you," she said softly, not trusting her voice to say any more. Anya gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze and stood, crossing to the cabinet and pulling out a pair of large, fluffy towels. She put one over her shoulder and shook out the other, holding out to Sylvan as she rose out of the water and stepped out of the tub. Sylvan took the towel and wrapped it around her head to contain her hair as Anya shook out the other towel. She took the second towel and watched in amazement as Anya tapped a black stone beside the dragon-head faucet and the water began to drain away: she had not even been aware that such things existed until this moment.

Anya saw her expression and smiled gently. "It's a clever device, no? Master Corvus has ensured that we have every comfort and luxury at our disposal here, so there's plenty more to see. But that can wait until you've eaten and had a chance to get your strength back. You go ahead and get dressed, I'll be down in the kitchen. When you're done with the towels, just leave them in the basket by the door- I'll gather up the laundry later on once the men have taken their baths." With that she excused herself and went off to prepare Sylvan's meal.