30th of Summer, 516 AV
Glassy waters rippled in the daylight, disrupted by a skipping stone that bounced across its crystal surface. Morrigan plucked another smooth rock from her hand, squared up, and flicked. It twisted and danced across the water, hopping four times before disappearing into the deep. She'd arrived not even a bell ago, having left the city just at the cusp of sunrise. It was nearing late morning now, and the sun burned hot above the mountain ridges. The humidity already made her shirt stick to her back, and insects hummed loudly in the trees.
Myles lazed by the bank, soaking coat drying in the light. He'd already enjoyed several swims in the cool mountain lake, chasing the silver shimmer of fish darting along the shore. Her gear was tucked under a tree at the edge of the clearing, ready to be made into camp, but she wanted to enjoy the morning while she could. Across the water a crane stood knee-deep, waiting for prey. She skipped another stone, watching the graceful bird spear a small fish with its long beak.
When her ammunition was depleted, Morrigan dropped to the grass and lay back to look at the sky. Her hound's face soon blotted out the sun, and a warm tongue attacked her. She screamed with delight and pushed the soaking, stinking animal away, but he smothered her with his weight. Spitting fur out of her mouth and wiping wet dog off her cheeks, she rolled onto her side as Myles stretched back out beside her, satisfied by his victory. In the warmth of the sun, cushioned by the soft shore, they both began to doze.
Morrigan awoke to a long, low whine. Slightly groggy she looked at the sky. They'd slept for about a bell. Shyke. She quickly climbed to her feet, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and plucking grass from her clothes. Another whine, louder this time. The huntress looked at the hound, who gazed back at the trees, head low, ears up, and hackles bristled. She felt the hair on her own neck stand at attention, and looked at where her bow lay with the rest of her things. A knife was strapped to her hip, but nothing more.
Slowly, she began to walk toward her gear. Myles was close at heel, eyeing the shadows dancing under the branches. A stick snapped under what sounded like heavy boots, and she began to run. Just as she reached her things and pale fingers wrapped around the body of her bow, strong arms closed down on her arms, crushing them to her side. The weapon fell uselessly from her grasp, and she was drug away, back toward the water.
Morrigan's heart bounded and she struggled, unthinking and acting on instinct. Legs kicked violently, but no use. Instead, she jerked her head back and felt it connect with flesh and bone, even heard a dull crunch. The arms released her and her captor shouting in shocked pain. She darted back toward her weapons, but made the mistake of glancing over her shoulder. Two more men, already there. They each grabbed an arm and threw her down, holding her to the dirt.
Tears burned her face and she struggled wildly, flailing her legs and trying to bite their hands. A sharp slap across the cheek snapped her head around and sent her reeling.
"No funny business girly," one of them barked.
"Stay nice and still and we won't cut you up, y'hear?"
She would later hate herself for it, but a whimper escaped her. It was a pitiful sound, a sound of weakness. They smiled though, and one brushed the hair out of her face. Morrigan shrunk away, and he slapped her again, harder this time. She started to cry. The first one, now nursing a broken nose came around to her feet, a little bloody and bruised.
"Hold her still," he snapped. "I don't like it when they fight." He began unlacing the front of his dirty trousers.
"Aw c'mon, you had the last one first. It's my turn"
"Shut up! The bitch has it comin'."
In the distance, Morrigan thought she heard Myles barking, but it sounded far away and muffled by the trees.
Glassy waters rippled in the daylight, disrupted by a skipping stone that bounced across its crystal surface. Morrigan plucked another smooth rock from her hand, squared up, and flicked. It twisted and danced across the water, hopping four times before disappearing into the deep. She'd arrived not even a bell ago, having left the city just at the cusp of sunrise. It was nearing late morning now, and the sun burned hot above the mountain ridges. The humidity already made her shirt stick to her back, and insects hummed loudly in the trees.
Myles lazed by the bank, soaking coat drying in the light. He'd already enjoyed several swims in the cool mountain lake, chasing the silver shimmer of fish darting along the shore. Her gear was tucked under a tree at the edge of the clearing, ready to be made into camp, but she wanted to enjoy the morning while she could. Across the water a crane stood knee-deep, waiting for prey. She skipped another stone, watching the graceful bird spear a small fish with its long beak.
When her ammunition was depleted, Morrigan dropped to the grass and lay back to look at the sky. Her hound's face soon blotted out the sun, and a warm tongue attacked her. She screamed with delight and pushed the soaking, stinking animal away, but he smothered her with his weight. Spitting fur out of her mouth and wiping wet dog off her cheeks, she rolled onto her side as Myles stretched back out beside her, satisfied by his victory. In the warmth of the sun, cushioned by the soft shore, they both began to doze.
------
Morrigan awoke to a long, low whine. Slightly groggy she looked at the sky. They'd slept for about a bell. Shyke. She quickly climbed to her feet, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and plucking grass from her clothes. Another whine, louder this time. The huntress looked at the hound, who gazed back at the trees, head low, ears up, and hackles bristled. She felt the hair on her own neck stand at attention, and looked at where her bow lay with the rest of her things. A knife was strapped to her hip, but nothing more.
Slowly, she began to walk toward her gear. Myles was close at heel, eyeing the shadows dancing under the branches. A stick snapped under what sounded like heavy boots, and she began to run. Just as she reached her things and pale fingers wrapped around the body of her bow, strong arms closed down on her arms, crushing them to her side. The weapon fell uselessly from her grasp, and she was drug away, back toward the water.
Morrigan's heart bounded and she struggled, unthinking and acting on instinct. Legs kicked violently, but no use. Instead, she jerked her head back and felt it connect with flesh and bone, even heard a dull crunch. The arms released her and her captor shouting in shocked pain. She darted back toward her weapons, but made the mistake of glancing over her shoulder. Two more men, already there. They each grabbed an arm and threw her down, holding her to the dirt.
Tears burned her face and she struggled wildly, flailing her legs and trying to bite their hands. A sharp slap across the cheek snapped her head around and sent her reeling.
"No funny business girly," one of them barked.
"Stay nice and still and we won't cut you up, y'hear?"
She would later hate herself for it, but a whimper escaped her. It was a pitiful sound, a sound of weakness. They smiled though, and one brushed the hair out of her face. Morrigan shrunk away, and he slapped her again, harder this time. She started to cry. The first one, now nursing a broken nose came around to her feet, a little bloody and bruised.
"Hold her still," he snapped. "I don't like it when they fight." He began unlacing the front of his dirty trousers.
"Aw c'mon, you had the last one first. It's my turn"
"Shut up! The bitch has it comin'."
In the distance, Morrigan thought she heard Myles barking, but it sounded far away and muffled by the trees.
