The Red Kingdom Ch 4: The Puddle She Gave us!

I should've said something. That was the thought rattling around in my skull as Senaka herded us toward the massive wooden cage—like livestock, like property, like we were less than that.

I walked in line with the others, trying not to look at her. But it was hard to ignore the red smear stuck between the fingers of her left hand. The same hand she'd used to crush the guy who thought he could talk back.

The red patch on the stone where he'd stood—it was still there too. A jagged piece of meat stuck to the rocks like chewed gum.

Don't look at it.

Don't look at it.

I looked at it.

And then I looked up at her. Senaka. Brown skin like burnished bronze, and armor to match. Her face was hardened, the kind of face you'd see carved into a war memorial. Her right eye was a dead white thing with a jagged scar carving down through the brow.

Not blind. No way. That eye still watched. I could feel it.

She said nothing as we were guided in—nine broken men in a cage big enough for a couple dozen. It creaked and groaned beneath our steps. I half-expected the wood to snap under someone's boot. But nope. It held.

She gave the bars one firm push with a single finger, and thud—the cage door slammed shut like a guillotine blade.

Then... the worst part.

That gut-wrenching moment when the world fell out from under me.

My stomach flipped as Senaka lifted the cage—just like that. Like it was a basket full of laundry. My knees buckled. A couple guys yelped. Not me though—I just muttered something deeply heroic like, "Oh, gods, I hate this," and grabbed the bars like they were a lifeline.

We swayed with every step she took.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

Each footfall slammed into the ground like thunder. Trees the size of towers passed by as she walked, deeper into the wild woods of... whatever this land was.

I sat down near the edge of the cage and leaned against the wooden frame. Behind us, in the distance, I could still see Varkor—the great Wall. So tall it vanished into the clouds. So wide it looked like the end of the world.

And now, it was gone.

Just trees. Endless, impossibly tall trees.

A guy across from me started whispering a prayer. Another muttered something about his wife. A third clutched a wooden charm and kissed it like it was gonna get him a ticket back home.

I didn't say anything. I didn't have anyone to pray for. No one waiting for me in Evermore. My whole life had already been reduced to ash and smoke by the time I came to Caldrith Vale.

I guess that's what made me draw the black stone without trembling. Not bravery. Just... nothing left to lose.

Now I was here. In a cage, in a forest, in a land owned by giants.

And I was owned by one.

I leaned my head back, pressed it against the wooden bars, and closed my eyes. There was nothing I could do now. Not really.

So I let the sound of the forest lull me—birds I didn't recognize, insects the size of my fist buzzing past, trees rustling like sails in a storm.

Might as well sleep while I still can. Who knows what they'll want from me tomorrow.

(A Few Hours Later)

I must've dozed off for a few minutes. Long enough to forget where I was.

The world jolted like a wagon had hit a rock, and the cage rattled hard. My shoulder slammed against the wooden slats, and I snapped my eyes open, heart already pounding.

"What the hell—what happened?" I blurted out, twisting around like I could somehow piece together the sudden chaos.

The gate.

It was open.

The thick, wooden door that'd been shut tight earlier was now swaying wide, hanging by its crude hinges. And outside, casting a long, crushing shadow, was the mountain of a woman we'd all come to know in a very short, very violent amount of time.

Senaka.

Her voice boomed down from the sky like the gods were yelling through a brass horn.

"You may stretch your legs. Get something to drink. But," she paused, "any attempt to flee will result in death or... worse."

Right.

That tracked.

One by one, the men started stepping out. Some hesitated, but none stayed inside. Including me.

The forest air hit my skin like a cold slap. Damp, earthy, filled with strange smells—moss and something faintly sweet, but also something foul. Rotting.

We stood in a small clearing, still surrounded by trees that might as well have been towers. And Senaka?

She took a seat right in front of us.

Boom. Boom. BOOM.

Her bronze-plated ass hit the earth like a landslide. Legs spread out, knees bent, feet kicked forward lazily. She lounged like a queen who didn't care if her court was made up of insects.

Her crotch loomed in front of us like a tent made of brown fabric. Gods help me, I tried not to look. But it was hard not to when it was right there. Like someone had dropped a boulder made of thighs and arrogance into our lives.

"So. Who's thirsty?" she asked, that smug grin curling across her face.

No one said a word. But every guy there... I could tell. We all needed it. Thirst dried out my tongue, scraped at my throat. My head pounded behind my eyes like a war drum.

"Come now, don't be shy," she cooed, like we were children. Then she reached behind her back and pulled out a massive leather waterskin, big as a wagon.

She brought it to her lips and took a long swig, eyes closed in satisfaction. Drops of water clung to her bottom lip, then slid down her chin like clear rivers. The sound alone—slosh, gulp, slosh—was enough to make my mouth water.

"Water..." I whispered. I could barely stop myself from drooling.

Three guys couldn't hold back. They stepped forward, eyes wide and wild. That's when she lowered the skin and tilted her head, smirking.

"Oh how cute," she said, mocking us. "Well, here you little ones go."

Then—before any of us could guess what she meant—Senaka pursed her lips, leaned forward...

...and spit.

It wasn't just spit. It was a torrent. A clear blob the size of a puddle launched straight at the ground in front of us, cracking the earth where it landed. Splat.

Everyone staggered back. Thank the gods it didn't land on anyone, or we'd be scooping someone off the dirt with a ladle.

"Drink up," she said casually, like she'd just poured us a nice cup of tea.

We all just... stared. I mean, it was spit. Glossy, sticky, strung through with strands of god-knows-what. It steamed a little in the cool forest air. You could smell it.

No one moved.

Then her voice came again, just a little more forceful.

"Well? What, you thought you were getting my water?"

"No no no," she laughed, shaking her head. "You're not worthy of that. That water's for me. I earned it. Worked for it. Fought for it. You? You get what comes from me. And this," she pointed a huge bronze finger at the puddle, "this will do just fine."

The silence that followed felt heavier than any chain.

I looked around. All the men were waiting for someone else to break first. Eyes darting. Mouths twitching.

Fine. If we were going to play this game—hell, I'd play it.

I took a deep breath. Walked up. Crouched down.

I dipped my fingers into that mess of spit—warm at the top, cooler underneath—and brought it to my lips.

It tasted like metal and mint and something else I couldn't place. But it was water. And water was water. I drank.

Behind me, I heard gasps. Then footsteps.

Another man joined. Then another. And soon, six of us were drinking. Hesitant. Disgusted. But desperate.

Three stayed back. Stubborn or proud or maybe just too scared.

Senaka watched us with a smirk the size of a cliff.

"Good," she purred. "Very good."

She leaned back on her hands, just watching us drink her spit from the dirt like animals.

I didn't look at her again. Not until I wiped my mouth and stood up.

Because I wasn't drinking for her. I was drinking to survive.