Martsia had no idea what to do. She hadn't been in a situation like this before, only in training by her family many years ago. At the time someone had been abducting children from the Shroud and they had been sold into slavery. Her uncle had trained her, stating that if she ever was in danger, that she could use those techniques. She checked her back...Mordecai was gone, she checked her side holster and any knives she had were also gone. She groaned, her throat stung and burned from the shock he'd given her. She didn't know how well she would be able to speak...but she wasn't going to be doing much talking at this moment.Â
Her uncle had taught her a way to modify any boot with a blade, and luckily she was wearing a pair she'd modified. It was tricky with her hands behind her back, but contorting just enough she managed to have the blade snap out. Rolling onto her back and lifting her legs she stabbed the knife into a wooden support beam for their house, and it popped out of her boot. She had designed them to do so, in case the blade became embedded in a body, she'd be able to make a quick getaway. She rolled over and stood up, then carefully backed up into the blade and began cutting away at the ropes. After what seemed like an eternity they fell loose, and she let out a hoarse sigh. If they truly wanted to keep her captive, they should have used chains.
She began looking around the cellar. It was small and reeked of decaying wood and plant matter. The window, which used to be large enough for her to get out of, was now barred off. Other than the door, there was nothing in the room except the straw bed. If they had intended to just capture and kill her, they would have done it already. Troy's were ruthless and at times heartless. The fact that she was alive worried her more now. And when she realized that she was the only Troy female left, she felt ill. After vomiting in a corner she began to panic. No logs, sticks, or anything she could use as a weapon. Her only option was to wait. The cellar door was solid and sturdy, and the chains would make things harder for her. And so she sat in a dark corner, watching the door and waiting.
Her uncle had taught her a way to modify any boot with a blade, and luckily she was wearing a pair she'd modified. It was tricky with her hands behind her back, but contorting just enough she managed to have the blade snap out. Rolling onto her back and lifting her legs she stabbed the knife into a wooden support beam for their house, and it popped out of her boot. She had designed them to do so, in case the blade became embedded in a body, she'd be able to make a quick getaway. She rolled over and stood up, then carefully backed up into the blade and began cutting away at the ropes. After what seemed like an eternity they fell loose, and she let out a hoarse sigh. If they truly wanted to keep her captive, they should have used chains.
She began looking around the cellar. It was small and reeked of decaying wood and plant matter. The window, which used to be large enough for her to get out of, was now barred off. Other than the door, there was nothing in the room except the straw bed. If they had intended to just capture and kill her, they would have done it already. Troy's were ruthless and at times heartless. The fact that she was alive worried her more now. And when she realized that she was the only Troy female left, she felt ill. After vomiting in a corner she began to panic. No logs, sticks, or anything she could use as a weapon. Her only option was to wait. The cellar door was solid and sturdy, and the chains would make things harder for her. And so she sat in a dark corner, watching the door and waiting.
