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"Keep up!"

Little Triss tottered after the princess, weighed down under the mountain of petticoats and lace she'd been forced into. The dress was an old one of Kurda's, too long for her, too tight around the shoulders and bunched into folds around the slavegirl's concave stomach, and the dainty silk slippers were too small. Gold rings weighed down her tail until it dragged behind her. Pink ribbons tied too tightly cut off the blood to her ears, which were dusted inside with red powder to provide a demure blush, contrasting with the sticky circles of red-orange paint slicking down her cheekfur and the charcoal darkening her eyelashes and outlining a clownish grin on her face. Kurda's talent with the makeup brush was still developing, and her attempts at grooming had only left Triss with bald patches.

"I'm so-" She gasped as Kurda kicked her shins, once, twice, and yanked her ear.

"Dollies do not shpeak! Now come, ve shall have a tea party."

Triss followed the princess, head up and eyes down as instructed. Carefully, she walked stiff-limbed, straight-backed, as doll-like as she could be, and it became easier as she went, at least until they reached the top of the stairs. The dress was definitely too long. Triss had been stepping on the hem, a piece of lace had come free, and as she tried to turn her footpaw caught in it and she tripped, bumping roughly into Kurda.

"Ow!" Kurda spun, eyes blazing. "Clumsy schlampe, vot did I tell you?" She shoved Triss away; Triss tried to catch herself, failed, and plunged headlong down the stairs, landing with a horrible crack and an explosion of pain.

Triss would later have scrambled memories of the next few minutes, but she recalled her own scream and the pain and the sliding sensation in her hip, her attempts to choke back her screams and the tears washing off her makeup, a ratguard holding a spear to her throat and promising "Don't cry, princess, you can have a new doll!" Kurda ran down the stairs to kick him and shrieked that she wanted that one, and Triss felt a guilty pang of disappointment before one ratguard straddled her and leaned on her belly and another grabbed her injured leg and heaved, and she tried as hard as she could not to scream again as her hip grated too slowly back and finally, finally, popped into place. She lay still, breathing hard through gritted teeth, as the ratguards' calloused paws ran over her, checking for further injuries. She was rolled over, and their claws raked through her fur again before one pulled her to her feet.

"Sound as a bell, princess," he proclaimed, and shoved Triss back at her. Kurda nodded once, and set off down the hall, only getting a few steps before she turned back. Triss had collapsed to her knees, putting her weight on her handpaws, wet face resting on the cool stone.

"Come, dolly, I said ve vould have tea."

"What?" Triss gasped, looking up. "Princess, I'm sorry, I can't walk - my leg..."

Kurda pulled Triss upright again and slapped her face with all her strength. Triss' head jerked back, and Kurda slapped again and again. "Vot did I say? Dollies... do... not... shpeak! Do as I say!" Triss moaned in pain and pointed to her leg, and Kurda pulled their faces close together and hissed "De shtuffink seems to be comink out of your head, dolly. Shall I sew up dat tear?" Triss' lips trembled as Kurda's claws ran over them and she weakly shook her head. "Good. Now valk, or I really shall haff you shtuffed vith straw and put on mine shelf!"

Triss bit back her sobs and limped after the princess, hate boiling in her veins.