The caravan came to a halt near a squat building with a clay tile roof.

Hanging above its door was a sign that read, "Scrubbs' Holding", and beneath that sign stood a plump woman who looked oddly similar to the building behind her.

"Only one drop of red this hunt," the cart driver said to the woman. "Mostly runaways, but a few fresh ones."

"Fresh ones is trouble," the woman replied with a scowl, "but if I can't break 'em, who can?"

"She's only teasing," Rose whispered to Credence. "It's not her place to break anyone."

"Need a feedin' and a wash, if you kindly please," the driver answered the woman. "Auction's tonight, as you well know."

The woman snorted. "If any of 'em see it. Come on, we're ready inside."

The cart was opened, and its red-striped occupants ushered inside, into yet another single room with a packed dirt floor. There was considerably more space, and a decent fire in a small pit, along with several oil lamps that lit everything to a nice, calming ambiance—though the room retained just a little too much heat.

Everywhere in the towns must be stiflingly warm, Credence decided. It probably couldn't be helped.

Several washtubs full of sudsy water were scattered throughout the room, and just as many closed chests. There were a few tables and chairs and a handful of cots with gray pillows and blankets. Atop the tables were plates filled with bread and sausage, bowls with warm porridge, and pitchers of water. Compared to the fare offered before, it was a king's feast.

"What about the other colors," Credence asked Rose, "where will they go?"

"Dunno where they go. Don't care, really. This is good though, eh? Better than last night."

The plump woman took her place at the front of the room to address the crowd, and although she was short in stature, her voice boomed loud and clear.

"Look and listen 'ere!"

The room fell silent.

"Most faces I recognize—you, Charlie Whim!" She pointed to a tall boy with a pockmarked face. "This is your second time, ain't it? Got no more chances left for you, hah!"

She pointed to a girl younger than Credence.

"An' Missy Thred, I known your mam since she was younger'n you! It was me who pulled you out of her in the alley behind the butcher! After what she gave up for you—you oughta be ashamed for runnin' off!"

The woman scanned the faces to find one she didn't know, choosing a boy Credence thought looked unsettlingly like Josiah.

"Don't know you, child, wha's your name?"

The boy sniffed, recently finished with a good cry.

"Cary, mum."

" 'Cary, mum'? Who's your parents?" The boy shrugged and said nothing. "Well, you'll find more than mam's and da's where I send you!"

She cackled and many in the room joined her.

"Me next!" A young woman with severely matted red hair raised her hand in the air. "Who am I, Miss Scrubbs?"

The woman looked at the girl and scoffed.

"As if I wouldn't know the firehead of Jane Punch! Still got the smallest bumps in creation?"

"You'd pay a coin to see!" Jane teased and raised her shirt to show her chest.

The plump woman shook her head. "Guess even the lightest nut sags from the tree eventually! Gettin' a little old to be 'ere, best watch out they don't paint you orange next!"

Everyone laughed at the joke, including Jane. The woman, Miss Scrubbs, clapped her hands to settle the room.

"Pleasant talk's done," she said sternly. "Auction night's upon us and you lot got to polish up for buyers."

A boy raised his hand. "What about keepers, miss? Don't they get a turn?"

Miss Scrubbs nodded. "Aye. Got to polish for them too, lest they find your face too ugly to take back! They'll come in due time, but your mind should be on gettin' clean and pretty. Them's that been here before, show the new ones what's what. Anyone gives guff or cries gets a backhand to the face and a boot to the belly—then no one'll want your mug, and you'll be shivering with the black stripes come moontime! Off with ye now!"

At her command there was a rush of activity, and Rose pulled Credence to one of the tables with food and drink.

"We'll have a wash after eating," Rose explained, "so's all the food don't get taken first."

She gave Credence a cup and filled it with water from a pitcher, then handed her some warm bread and sausage. 

"No time to be dainty, eat," Rose commanded gently. "Don't think twice some snotty tramp won't rip it from your hands if she's hungry enough."

Rose watched the room as they ate. She was particularly amused by a boy being scrubbed in a washtub by a naked girl. The boy looked dreadfully bashful, though he took a few opportunities to steal a glance at his washer's body. If she noticed his attention, the girl washing him didn't care, but moved quickly and methodically, and when the boy was deemed clean she pulled him from the water and stepped into the tub herself, moving with the same swiftness as the boy waited with his eyes cast to the floor.

It seemed that half of the room agreed with Rose on the necessity of eating first, while the other half thought a warm bath was more important. This divide balanced things nicely in the end, ensuring no scuffles broke out amongst the group.

Rose whispered to Credence that someone's choice—to bathe or eat first—proved who was clever and who was not.

"I could go my whole life without one bath," she said, "but how long would I last with an empty belly? It's the smart one that thinks of survival first."

Once they had their fill of food, Rose led the way to a free washtub. Credence's face wrenched in disgust at the sight of the used water. It had already been occupied by several bodies, and the water had turned from clear to murky.

"We're supposed to bathe—in that?"

"Why not? S'just water."

"Others have used it."

"So? It'll wash you all the same."

Rose's clothing dropped to the ground, and Credence blushed and turned away, suddenly aware that half of the room was nude, and almost all of them unabashedly so. It was understood that Credence would be expected to remove her clothes and bathe, and the thought turned her stomach.

"Your shoulders are near your ears," Rose mused. "What's the matter? Don't tell me you're shy." She splashed water at Credence.

A body is just a body, Credence reminded herself. It was the most natural thing in the world, and she'd never been ashamed of hers, not once.

So why did the thought of revealing it here send her stomach into knots?

"I've never—I mean, I've not been unclothed in front of anyone but my family, and only when I was little."

"Best get used to it," Rose said. "Not a lot of privacy in the towns." She stood up, letting the water roll down her stomach. "Look at me, Credence. Come on, I ain't bashful. Just a body, same as yours."

Not the same as mine, Credence thought as she stared at Rose.

Rose had the generous curves of a woman, though her face was still very young.

Perhaps it wasn't because she was in a room full of strangers that Credence hesitated.

Perhaps it was because her body suddenly felt...lacking. Unworthy.

Why? Was it because some of the girls had wider hips or longer legs?

Because some of them had a shape?

For the first time Credence felt as though her body mattered, and was certain that in comparison she would not be as beautiful as the rest of the room. Rose smiled, recognizing a first-timer's timidity, and she nodded her head to direct Credence's attention across the room.

A handsome boy around Rose's age was bathing himself, wholly unconcerned by anyone around him.

"Now that," Rose said, "is worth a look."

Credence wanted to look away, immediately regretting following Rose's point. There were times in the past that Josiah flashed his parts when he went to make water or bathe, but Credence never thought to stare and had always given him distance when such occasion arose.

It was just a body. Bodies were natural. They weren't interesting at all.

Or they never had been before. Against her own shame, Credence couldn't help but study the boy in the washtub.

"He's a sight," Rose said with a sigh.

Without thinking, Credence nodded. She wondered if all men were the same, or if there was just as much variety in their shapes and designs as women had.

"They've an odd sort of look," Credence blurted, then bit her lip. Rose chuckled.

"You might appreciate it in time."

Credence didn't want to admit it, but Rose may have been right, and the longer she stared at the young man, the more she felt an unsettling hum rising within.

"But see," Rose continued, "he doesn't care if we look. No one does. And no one is looking, except for us." She stepped out of the washtub and gestured for Credence to get in. "Dress off first. Need me to help you?"

She moved to touch the row of pearls down Credence's back, but Credence pulled away.

"No! No, I've...got it."

In the end, Credence did require Rose's assistance to unbutton her dress, and from there Credence slowly peeled the clothing from her body. She looked around the room before handing her dress to Rose, just to make sure everyone hadn't stopped to stare at her.

No one had, not a single one, not even for a second—except Rose, who stood with her hand out and an impatient look on her face. The instant she gave the dress over, Credence wrapped her arms over her chest. Rose clucked her tongue and shook her head.

"I will stand in front of you, if you want. Just this once."

Credence nodded and carefully stepped into the washtub.

The shock of cold water made her wince, but she told herself that the sooner she got to work, the sooner she could redress herself. Rose stood in front of her, blocking Credence while eyeing the rest of the room with indifference.

"Make sure you get that blood off your face," Rose instructed.

Credence cupped water in her hands and brought it to her face, wincing when her fingers brushed against her nose.

"Should I wash my clothes?"

The older girl shook her head. "That's what the chests are for. We'll get new clothes when you're clean."

Credence looked at the chests stationed throughout the room. All of them remained unopened. None of the red stripes had dressed, not even those who had washed before eating.

"Why hasn't anyone opened the chests?"

Rose shrugged. "Don't want to. We wear costumes most of the time, so it feels nice to be free without any worry that someone will bother you."

The answer struck Credence as very sad, though Rose gave it without a hint of sorrow. If the only place where the red stripes felt comfortable was naked in a crowded room, what did that mean for the rest of their lives? There was a complex tragedy in the notion that everyone here was in their most relaxed state, without any other intention than to simply be.

Credence stepped out of the washtub and tried to cover as much of her body as she could with her arms and hands.

"I think I would like to get dressed."

She was slightly embarrassed to say it. A small part of Credence wanted to fit in, to feel the same ease they felt.

But she was not one of them. She would never be one of them. Whatever despair had been brought upon them in life, she couldn't understand it. She had her share of troubles, but this collective, shared suffering was something different. 

She wanted to hug Rose, the kind stranger who proved as gentle as her namesake, but Rose had already scurried to one of the chests and was digging around for something to wear. When she returned, she held up a blue dress that Credence thought was far shorter than any piece of clothing should ever be. When Rose pulled the garment over Credence's head and arms, the hem of it fell just above her knees.

"Now you're comfortable," Rose said with a smile.

Just barely, Credence thought as Rose pulled her over to a chair to sit.

She combed through Credence's hair with her fingers, untangling the knots with a gentle touch. A thought came over Credence and she turned to her new friend.

"What do you know about this?"

Credence raised her arm and nodded to her skin symbol. Wonda had said confusing things about it.

"Saw that," Rose said. "That's why I couldn't believe you weren't from the towns."

"Is it magic?"

Rose stared blankly for a moment before raising her eyebrow.

"There's no such thing as magic," she said matter-of-factly, "except the made-up stuff in bedtime stories."

"Oh." Credence lowered her arm, defeated. "Do you know what it means though? My skin symbol?"

"Skin symbol?" Rose shook her head. "Your marking means you have a keeper, like Mistress Cinder, 'cause keepers are the ones that put it on you."

"My ma put it on me."

"Was she from the towns?"

"Eh—no. But my pa was."

"Maybe he was a keeper."

"That's not possible. He hated the towns."

"Show me again, let me look closer."

Credence raised her arm and Rose leaned in.

"Strange," Rose muttered under her breath, "I thought I knew the markings of all the houses, but this one is..." Her expression became uneased. "I don't know if this one is real. If it is, it's either very old or very new."

"It's not new. Ma had the same one on her leg."

Rose hummed in thought, then shrugged. "Maybe it's defunct."

"Someone said a name when they saw it. Dark Marc or Darkwood...I can't remember."

Rose bristled. "That's not a nice name, Credence."

"Why?"

"That can't be the work of Marc. He's dead."

So is Pa, Credence thought with a shudder.

"Why is that name bad?"

Rose gave Credence a look that implied she didn't want to explain further, but after a moment she said in a low voice, "He was a monster, Credence. I don't want to say his name...many think it's bad luck." Noting the fear that took hold of her companion, Rose smiled and patted Credence's shoulder. "It's impossible that it's his marking. Probably your ma had a keeper once, even if she didn't tell you. Don't know why she saw fit to give you one though, unless she meant to give you to her keeper, too. But it doesn't matter, 'cause when Mistress Cinder takes you in she'll replace it with her marking. Nothing to worry about."

Credence tensed, remembering the pain from Ma's hot needle pushing ink into her skin.

"She'll...replace it?"

"Don't worry over that just yet."

"Where's your skin sym—marking? I didn't see it before."

Rose turned around and held her hair up to reveal the back of her neck. At the very edge of her hairline was a small skin symbol, an elegant letter "C" with loops and curls. Around it was a lovely arrangement of flowers. Credence felt a sting of jealousy, that Rose had such a pretty skin symbol, one that made hers look plain in comparison.

"Everyone at Mistress Cinder's has that marking," Rose said, "but I do hate that I've never seen my own before. I felt it well enough when Mistress Cinder put it there. What a sting that was! I hope it's pretty—is it pretty?"

"It is," Credence replied and Rose dropped her hair and turned back around.

"We all have them—well, almost all. Those that belong to a house have to."

Rose pointed to a boy eating at one of the tables, and Credence saw a skin symbol on his shoulder, the outline of a bear with a long hammer and axe laid across its back.

The more she studied the other red stripes, the more Credence discovered that almost every one of them had a skin symbol. There were various shapes and sizes and colors, placed on different parts of the body. Some skin symbols matched others, though none looked like the one Credence had. The singularity of her symbol made her feel like an outcast.

Most unsettling of all was the thought that Ma had lied about it being a protection spell.

"So...it's not meant to guard against people?"

"Guard against—?" Rose couldn't help but chuckle. "No, it invites. And it tells everyone who your keeper is. Did your ma actually say it guarded you?"

"What do you mean 'invites'?"

Rose blushed, a strange thing on the otherwise confident girl. 

"You know...it's because they need to know who to pay. That's your keeper, that's the one they pay."

"Who pays?"

"Patrons, but some people called them strangers."

"What do they pay for?"

"Don't make me...they pay for you." Rose gave an exasperated groan. "You keep asking, but it's not my place to tell you—and I won't. I'm not a keeper. You'll just have to trust me that it'll all be explained. Mistress Cinder will do it."

Credence slumped forward, feeling more confused than ever. Rose resumed combing through her hair in silence, every so often trying to comfort Credence with a gentle squeeze. As she twisted and pulled, Rose hummed in a manner reminiscent to Ma, though now that comparison was slightly distressing. It was a long process, but Credence found herself relaxing under Rose's touch, until at last the older girl was finished.

"We don't have a mirror," Rose said, "but take my word, you look very pretty."

The day passed in little moments like that. After everyone was bathed and fed the general mood lifted considerably, and idle conversation and laughter took the place of nervous shuffling. Some people even napped on the cots provided.

The only one discontented was Credence, whose mind turned with unfavorable thoughts of Ma and her deceit. 

Credence would never have the chance to ask her about anything.

Maybe I'm better off in the towns, Credence thought bitterly. Where no one lies to me.