As Lorielle began to leave the tent, she was greeted by rain falling harshly down upon her head. Â Tobias took off ahead of her, heading towards the cart. Â She had hardly taken one step after him when something swept up beneath her arms and forced them back. Â Something rested hard against the back of her head, but she had enough room to turn her head shortly.
Just as she did, a face came closer to hers, speaking in a hushed tone near her ear. Â If she screamed at the top of her lungs, she would be heard even over the wind and rain. Â But she feared what would come of it. Â As they began walking, her being forced ahead, she found her feet were still very much free.
She could easily swing up her legs, drawing them into her chest. Â Then she could throw them back, throwing her heels full force into her captor's groin. Â However, there was no guarantee that this would cause him to release her. Â Any form of rebellion would likely get her killed, or killed faster.
Her turquoise eyes gleamed with feral anger, her adrenaline boiling as they neared the caravan where the others stood. Â Save it, she thought to herself. Â Save that adrenaline for when it's needed.
She was soaked to the bone, the rough handling from her captor causing long strands of her hair to fall over her shoulders and cling to her skin. Â There was something burning behind her eyes. Â Her face was solid as a rock until she could see her fellow travelers inside of the caravan. Â Suddenly her thoughts of freeing herself and beating the life from her captor fled her. Â Her mind was bent with worry for the strangers she had come to take as her companions.
She looked up at them with wide, pleading eyes.  Escape, she wanted to tell them.  Get out of here and escape.  Do not do what they tell you, whether they have a hostage or not. But in the short time she had come to know them, she felt they were stubborn enough no to listen to her.
Just as she did, a face came closer to hers, speaking in a hushed tone near her ear. Â If she screamed at the top of her lungs, she would be heard even over the wind and rain. Â But she feared what would come of it. Â As they began walking, her being forced ahead, she found her feet were still very much free.
She could easily swing up her legs, drawing them into her chest. Â Then she could throw them back, throwing her heels full force into her captor's groin. Â However, there was no guarantee that this would cause him to release her. Â Any form of rebellion would likely get her killed, or killed faster.
Her turquoise eyes gleamed with feral anger, her adrenaline boiling as they neared the caravan where the others stood. Â Save it, she thought to herself. Â Save that adrenaline for when it's needed.
She was soaked to the bone, the rough handling from her captor causing long strands of her hair to fall over her shoulders and cling to her skin. Â There was something burning behind her eyes. Â Her face was solid as a rock until she could see her fellow travelers inside of the caravan. Â Suddenly her thoughts of freeing herself and beating the life from her captor fled her. Â Her mind was bent with worry for the strangers she had come to take as her companions.
She looked up at them with wide, pleading eyes.  Escape, she wanted to tell them.  Get out of here and escape.  Do not do what they tell you, whether they have a hostage or not. But in the short time she had come to know them, she felt they were stubborn enough no to listen to her.
