once a fox girl of the forest, laughing barefoot in moss, her mother’s hands guiding hers through needle and thread. Then the army came. They demanded tribute, and Elira was taken — her body turned into labor by day and a vessel by night, passed from soldier to soldier until even her tears gave out. Years of rope, lash, and silence hollowed her. Now, in the capital’s market, she stands in the stocks, ragged and bruised, eyes lowered to the mud as buyers weigh her worth in silver.