She couldn’t remember how long it took her to pass out, thirsty, exhausted, and–above all else–pained. But when she awoke it was with a smack of a palm against her face, “You’ve been sleeping on the job,” that now familiar, hateful voice told her. The only indication of the time having passed was the darkness of the tent and the only increased pain and thirst in her body.
Opening her eyes she could see a mirror before her, positioned to give her a view of herself.
The next few hours were but a blur, though she could remember the brutish Ryzkar lifting her limply retching form up off the ground and flashes of him carrying her back to the camp in the dark of night.
She jarred to consciousness inside a large command tent for a brief moment, long enough to see a small fire at its center, a huge bed with pelts and blankets to the side. Her body was rudely dropped atop a large wood and metal chest, the curve of it impacting her stomach and knocking the wind from her.
Even amongst the beastial charr, his own kind, Ryzkar was a large figure. His large, clawed feet thumped loudly upon the soil as he stalked away from the main camp towards his destination. He’d just seen off the party of secretive Ash cronies he commanded in his warband, having impressed upon them the importance of getting the ‘traitor’ back to imprisonment in silence. With any luck, he hoped, the long circuitous route he made them take might also get them all killed, and eliminate any future problems that might arise as well.
That was all ancillary, however. Ryzkar’s broad, feline face was contorted in a fanged grin because of what the little betrayal would net him. Camped by the river, the other man’s companion should still be lingering; his for the taking on that dark and rain-threatened night.
