After a few hours of walking, the group passes through the second and primary security fence and perimeter. The individuals guarding each transition of fences show some small surprise at the sheer amount of captured individuals being led through, but to their credit, they do as Rhys tells them. At each checkpoint, the guards radio back the progress of the large group, keeping whoever is on the other end appraised quite fully. The group''s progress is steady, with only one incident shortly after the secondary security checkpoint is passed through: one of the group''s dogs, following its nose and a scent trail, made the unfortunate discovery of a group of the homestead''s "dogs." The homestead''s dogs, bred by the vampires and made more potent with their supernatural blood, are trained to handle threats and unknowns in one singular way. The lost dog''s distant cries were very short and quickly silenced. No one was permitted to go and find the dog''s body to bury or transport; they were told to keep their animals closer and not let them range away.


    Finally, with still a few hours left in the night before dawn, the group–led by the four vampires–is guided to a large, exceedingly well-kept horse barn. The doors are already open, showing an expansive set of fine-quality stalls. Clearly, the barn was for housing horses of the highest caliber and worth, with security measures to keep the property safe. While the horses were moved away before the group''s arrival, several guards still remove remnants of the horse''s prior residence with shovels and carts.


    Rhys stops the group and gestures Tallulah over to him. She hesitates initially but then makes her way over to Rhys and Christina while they stand just to the right of the barn with a couple of unknown guards at their side. Christina seems to be simply discussing how the area will be maintained and the breakdown of shifts during the day and night. Rhys, not particularly involved in the conversation, turns to face Tallulah as she draws close.


    "Tallulah, right?"


    It''s a rhetorical question that she nods to. Rhys doesn''t stop speaking to allow her to answer; instead, she elects to continue.


    "Here''s the plan, without any directives yet coming from my superiors: your people should be able to fit inside this horse barn for now; there is plenty of space, as you can see. We''ll bring out some various bedding so your old and young can sleep off the stalls'' floors. Food and water will be distributed and rationed out; how you choose to distribute it further once we bring it out to you and your people is on you and whomever you choose to assist you."


    Tallulah watches Rhys as he speaks, and when he pauses for a response from her, she nods. What else could she do? She studies the vampire, denoting his mannerisms and how he acts. Brutal, earlier, and now merely acting as a shepherd, with her and her people functioning as the cattle. He''s polite, likely seeing no reason to antagonize already cowed individuals. She does note that the vampires are being cautious to a degree–there are a lot of guards around–and she doesn''t know if those are vampires as well or simply those who are meant to serve them. However, even with their cautiousness, they still treat her and her people like humans, which they are not. While she isn''t going to give them a reason to remember otherwise, as soon as they can do it, she plans to see about organizing the remainder of her Wilder people in secret.


    Rhys, speaking again, brings Tallulah out of her thoughts.


    "In any event, I think that will cover everything you need tonight and tomorrow. There will be guards around at all times of the day and night for our protection as well as yours–"


    Tallulah mentally scoffs at that. She understands they are essentially prisoners, and dressing it up as anything but is a little insulting.


    "–and any issues and small needs can be addressed to them as they are assigned. Naturally, you won''t be allowed any weapons, and of course, you are expected not to damage the housing you''re being given for now. Treat us with respect, and we will treat you with respect. That is how our society works and operates, and I recommend you convince your people to heed that."


    Tallulah exhales once and finally responds.


    "Thank you."


    That simple "thanks" was immeasurably hard to voice. After all, they did slaughter four of the people from their village she lived with and knew as friends–or, at the very least, acquaintances. Clearly, though, she''s supposed to forget that misunderstanding occurred. She forces a slight smile to her lips, knowing the faint crow''s feet around her mouth and eyes make her appear far less threatening than she and others from her village could be.


    "I''m sure we''ll be no further trouble to you and yours. Perhaps we''ll even find a way to work together as equals."


    To his credit, Rhys does not laugh, but one of the guards nearby snickers. A cold and hardened look from Rhys silences him. Christina walks away from the two guards and off to speak with another grouping of guards some distance away. Rhys'' eyes track Christina as she moves away before finally responding.


    "Perhaps. I need to go and speak with my superiors now. The guards here will help you and your people settle in, and–" At this point, he''s speaking to the two guards because he hardens his tone to do so. "–they will make sure that the needs which I said will be met are done so. We''ll likely speak again tomorrow evening after dusk."


    Rhys doesn''t give the guards a chance to respond, or Tallulah either for that matter. Instead, he turns and trudges across the gravel and stone pavement towards the ornate homestead mansion that seems to reside at the center of the innermost patrolled security fence. The place looks beautiful, with wood and stone engraving and elaborate detailing. The build appears to have been here for some time but is still rigorously maintained. The landscaping is being done, even after dark, and Tallulah can see two individuals wiping and cleaning windows on the outside–though they seem to be in areas without much activity. She momentarily muses that perhaps the liege lord, whomever that might be, doesn''t want to see the help while they''re awake in the evenings.


    Tallulah spends a bit of time gazing at their surroundings when she has a few minutes. The number of people on this property is far beyond an ordinary large-scale ranch or homestead, which makes sense to her. Assuming there is a family of vampires, or whatever they call themselves, they would also need daytime servants to protect them. While she can''t initially tell which guards are vampires and which aren''t, she assumes that some of them during the nighttime are, and even the lowest of the vampires probably have one or two human servants to aid them.


    Tallulah watches as dogs nearly the size of small Shetland ponies are brought through the same security checkpoint she and her village were moved through not long before. While she doesn''t think they are vampire dogs, their vampire owners have clearly modified them somehow. They growl when they pass closer to where her people are milling about as they are being moved into their "new home," but a few tugs of their thick chain leashes by the guards along with a strange language''s command from who are maintaining them are enough to bring the beasts to heel. As she watches, she realizes they are bringing the dogs to the mansion of the homestead itself. Her head tilts slightly while she puzzles out the movements. Perhaps the dogs are brought outside in the evening to roam and protect the grounds, but in the daytime, they''re brought into the mansion itself to roam and protect the interior while the vampires sleep? That would make sense, she supposes. Her musing over the actions is ended when one of the two guards–not the one who snickered, she denotes–makes his way to her.


    After a brief conversation with the guard, during which she''s informed there will be ten to fifteen guards around the horse barn at all times, she''s told who she can approach with issues so they can be handled. The guard gestures to a man in his thirties with dark skin and a smooth head. He is bearded, but it isn''t wild. Instead, it looks meticulously groomed. She politely thanks the guard and starts to walk in the direction of the dark-skinned man.


    "Hello, I was told you''re who I''m supposed to speak to if we have any issues that need addressing. My name is Tallulah."


    She doesn''t extend a hand, unsure how typical first greetings go with vampires and their servants. The guard looks her over, quite critically from the facial expressions. Clearly, he is not a vampire, as they have almost a superhuman ability to maintain pure emotionless fa?ades. It''s one of the few lessons Wilder teach each other about vampires and how they act (if it ever comes up in conversation anyway). Finally, the man reaches forward and shakes Tallulah''s hand.


    "Micah."


    There''s an awkward silence between the pair before Micah adds to his brisk greeting.


    "Is there something you need?"


    The way it''s intoned makes it clear that he hopes (and maybe expects) there will not be anything she needs. Taking the hint and not wanting to press the man''s patience since she might need his assistance soon, she offers her best smile.


    "No, no. I just wanted to introduce myself. I''m sure you''re quite busy. I''ll let you get back to it."


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Micah nods his head once and then fixes her with a passive-like look, expecting her to be the one to leave, which she does. She turns and starts walking back towards the horse barn turned home, thousands of no-help questions and thoughts running through her mind. For a moment, she allows herself the distraction of the host of thoughts, not focusing on any particular thread. The noise of questions and thoughts is chaos in her mind–and is only interrupted by a guard stepping directly in front of her and clearing his throat.


    "Ah, hello?"


    She starts a little, coming to an abrupt stop.


    "Hello?"


    The guard who stopped her is young, much younger than most that she''s seen. He hasn''t quite grown into his body, which tells her he''s in his late teens–assuming he''s human. He brushes a hand up, running his hand over his carefully kept fade-style hair. Only then does she realize he looks like a younger version of Micah, the overseer guard she just met. He gives her a half smile and looks over her shoulder.


    "Follow me. It''s better to talk where no one''s watching. People around here are great lip readers."


    Tallulah goes with the flow of the already whirlwind night without complaint and follows behind the young man. She glances up at the sky, feeling her nerves starting to dull from the first purple tendrils of the rapidly approaching dawn; it won''t be long before she feels the weight and lethargy of her moon-aligned self. He leads Tallulah quite far from the horse barn and the wandering guards, though they stay within the first perimeter fence. She realizes that the property they must be on is quite massive and must have taken a fortune to own, no matter where they are. In the distance, she can see the notably rounded peaks of significant hills and mountains. Coupled with the English language usage and humidity, she figures they''re somewhere in Appalachia since those mountains are old and rounded, and she isn''t aware of similar mountains geographically.


    The young, dark-skinned man turns after a few more minutes of walking and gestures for Tallulah to sit with him on what looks to be a simple flagstone bench. Its construction doesn''t stick out much from the foliage allowed to grow in that particular spot inside the perimeter fence. Tallulah slowly settles in, looking expectantly at the young man.


    "Sorry about the cloak and dagger routine."


    He holds his hands up, seemingly genuine in his apologeticness. Tallulah shrugs her shoulders at the beginning of her response.


    "It''s fine. Since I assume there''s no lip readers here, what did you want to speak of?"


    The young man runs a hand over his face as if wiping sweat from his brow and cheeks, though none is present yet.


    "Oh, right. My name''s Eli–er–Elijah. Sorry, I didn''t say that first."


    The apologeticness comes across as strange, and it''s only then that Tallulah realizes the young man is nervous. Instead of interrupting him, she fixes him with a more measured look–measured to be welcoming and compassionate, though she feels neither of those things at the moment.


    Elijah leans forward and looks past Tallulah to see if anyone is following them or walking in their direction on their guard rounds. When he''s satisfied, he keeps watching but speaks to her.


    "Micah isn''t bad, but–but he''s always given all the work as of late and probably just resents being forced into yet another job."


    Tallulah doesn''t really see where he''s going with this, but allowing him to keep speaking uninterrupted also gives her time to look over his body movements and try to read his facial tics and tells.


    "Anyway, he''s my uncle. We''re both part of the living line of the–"


    He pauses a little as if trying to find the right words.


    "Well, most people call them vampires, but they call themselves many different things. Here, they''ve always called other vampires draugar, but it doesn''t come up much in conversation. I just figured you''d like to know. I was also kind of wondering what, uh, you guys are."


    Tallulah wasn''t that interested in the details, but information is information, and it''s better to keep someone talking who wants to talk.


    "What do you mean by ''living line''? Also, do you prefer to be called Elijah or Eli?"


    Elijah adjusts his weight while sitting on the flagstaff-constructed bench beside her.


    "Let''s go with Elijah in mixed company; Eli is fine privately. And, well, ''living lines'' are like the descendants of a vampire. Maybe sometime I can give you the run-down on how, uh, draugar society generally works from what I''ve been taught, but it doesn''t matter right now, so that''ll have to be on down the line. Okay?"


    "Sure, Eli. So you''re a living descendant of a vampire who owns this property? Am I getting that right?"


    Elijah dips his head, and she can see the faint sheen of sweat forming on his temples, reflecting the rising sun.


    "Yeah, now that we got that out of the way, it gives you an idea about me–like I said, Micah isn''t so bad. He''s just in the age group where he gets tested constantly to see if he breaks or bends; Micah wants to be turned, so he will be a huge stickler for whatever rules get handed down. They probably told you to talk with him if you and your people need anything, right?"


    Tallulah starts to nod, but Elijah keeps talking, so clearly that was rhetorical.


    "Yeah, just try not to ask him anything. It''s probably better that way. If you need to, try to find me. I''ll help you out if I can."


    He reaches up, wipes the sweat off his brow, and pats his hand off on his pants.


    "Damn, it''s getting hot already. Sun''s not even up yet." He sighs, complaining primarily to himself.


    "Why?" Tallulah minimizes her question to one simple word to see what Elijah will share with her in response.


    "Why? Well, I mean, I know you''ll probably need help at some point, and I don''t like to see kids suffering and such. Also, if I''m totally honest with you, I want to get to know other, uh, supernatural, type beings?"


    He seems unsure if he''ll offend her by calling her "supernatural," which she is, and he won''t, but for some reason, it tickles her that he''s so nervous when he and his people have the upper hand.


    "Wilder."


    Elijah looks puzzled at the one word Tallulah utters.


    "Uh, what?"


    "My village, my people you have here in the barn, we''re a tribe of Wilder. That''s what they call us where we''re from. There are families–tribes, like. Wilder is, well, a type of what we are. Humans have a lot of names for our kind. Fey, faeries, sídhe, plebes deorum, changelings, tuatha dé. The list goes on. Wilder are kind of like groups of misfit toys who all wind up living together and forming a village or settlement. There are other tribes that are more, I don''t know, regal in their bearing. History, provenance, snotty descendants, etcetera. Some of them are powerful enough to have formed their own cities. Others govern depending on the seasons."


    "Are there a lot of you?" Elijah leans in her direction a fraction, fascination burning in his eyes. He is genuinely interested, Tallulah realizes.


    "I mean, sure. Most of our kind are in the Wilds, though–which is, how can I describe it easily? It''s like another place next to this place. We can cross here into the human world through what are called seams, and some of our kind stay here permanently, but yeah, like I said, most stay in the Wilds. It isn''t that safe for us here, as you can kind of tell."


    Elijah leans back, a little like she growled at him and a little like he was embarrassed by that last line.


    "Yeah, sorry. They''re really, really, uh, really protective of their territory here. Sorry about your friends. I know I didn''t have anything to do with it, but that must have been shitty to just been rolled up on out of nowhere and have to try and defend yourselves."


    "Yeah, you could say that. Maybe a little worse than ''shitty,'' though, you know?" Tallulah sighs.


    "I mean, why''d you decide to come here if the Wilds are where you normally stay?" While inquiring, Elijah rubs his hands over the padded knee inserts on his black military-style guard pants.


    She watches his fidgeting while deciding whether to answer the probing questions truthfully or not. After a long few moments and a rapid internal debate, she makes an executive decision to trust Elijah at least a small amount.


    "We didn''t. Somehow, we were pulled through a seam as a huge group. That isn''t supposed to–no, it doesn''t–happen."


    "But, it did happen?" He asks with an eyebrow crooked up inquisitively on his dark face. She slowly nods to him in response, keeping her tone measured.


    "Yeah, it did. That''s the problem. We don''t know how or why it happened, and one of the people who might have been able to figure it out, well, he''s dead. Your vampire friends ate his throat out when he was trying to defend me."


    "Shit." He grimaces, showing all his teeth, then uncomfortably shifts his weight. "So, how do we get you guys back to the Wilds?"


    She laughs softly–though it''s pretty mirthless–her eyes rising to the purple and orange hues, turning the sky to dawn.


    "Well, we''d have to find a seam, but if they''re acting haywire, who knows if it''s even safe or where we''d turn up. No offense, but I think that''s a problem for another day."


    Taking the cue, Elijah slowly starts to stand up.


    "We should get you back before Micah or some other guard gets suspicious."


    Tallulah smoothly rises next to him, brushing her fingers through her silvery gray hair and trying not to touch the bruise that has formed across part of her face from being backhanded. She fixes him once again with her piercingly green eyes.


    "If you think so."


    He slides his hands into his pockets and then starts to lead them back to the horse barn. He continues to talk along the way, though his tone is greatly reduced, mostly murmuring.


    "Tomorrow night–well, tonight, I guess it is now–is going to be rough. You''ll be brought before, um, the liege lord currently taking visitors. Just… try not to lie."


    His dark brown eyes turn towards her, and she realizes his youth gives him the kindness still showing in his eyes that the older guards she''s seen do not seem to have.


    "Thank you, Eli."


    He nods a little bit in response. Quietness reigns as he leads Tallulah back to the horse barn and separates from her, leaving her to her own devices.


    Before too long, with sleep trying to drag her down, she finally decides to go and check out the horse barn, sighing inwardly that it''s no great surprise they''re being corralled like animals. As she walks inside, she steels herself, and as sure as the sun and moon rise every day and night, she''s inundated by questions, anger, spoken fears, and requests the moment people from her village see her return. She holds up her hands, trying to calm and soften their voices. With a long sigh, she gets ready to do her best, answering and talking to everyone. It is quite a long time before she finally can find herself a makeshift cot in a cleaned-out stall and close her eyes for a blissful period of sleep.