In Which Amrit Sulks Usefully

First: A beginning of a story which obnoxiously cuts off just before the description,
Previous: In Which Amrit Reaches and Mieve Backs Up.
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Amrit glared after Mieve in frustration. So, fine. She didn't want to trust him. She didn't want him to help her.

If you want to go hunt, she'd said. But that was as far as she was willing to let him go. He snarled and slammed the ax down into another piece of wood. What was her problem? He'd been polite - okay, recently. He'd been helpful - the whole time, nobody could say he hadn't. He'd even been chill about the whole leg-breaking thing. Nothing got through to her. Nothing mattered. She wanted a nice little slavey, and that was that.

He finished the pile of firewood aggressively, knocking it into tiny pieces and throwing it into the wood pile. Fuck her. If she wanted to be a bitch, he could be an asshole right back at her. He worked his mouth, feeling where the gag had been, where the thing the slavers had put in had cut him up. He was healed, now. His leg was pretty much healed, too. He pulled off the splint and tried it. Yep, it held his weight. It was a little tender, still, but he could work with tender.
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