Authors: Constantine De Bohon
The pants, also too long, sported the same hard leather over her
crotch area. Sky was in too much shock to really think about it.
Her own sense of self-preservation was guiding her mechanical
actions. She put on a pair of moccasins she found in a corner.
On the dirt floor was a small loaf of bread. Sky snatched it up
and ran from the hut. She fled from the village death scene as the
sky grew darker. On and on she sped until she felt her lungs would
burst, racing through the forest until she stumbled and fell. She
could go no further. She lay on the ground howling in terror at the
sights she had witnessed.
* * * *
Sky woke and unfolded herself from the tight ball she had
been in. She stuffed the coin pouch into one of her moccasins.
Feeling her stomach growl, she nibbled on the stale bread she had
found and refused to think about how she acquired it and from
where. Sky staggered to her feet and once more began her aimless
wandering, only now she was cautious. The people who had killed
those in the village could still be near. No doubt they would kill
her as well if they came across her. The image of a deceased
woman holding her lifeless child to her breast rose up in Sky’s
mind. A tear slipped from her eye.
Who could be so evil?
Hours dragged by. Memories of the witnessed atrocities were
her companions no matter how hard she tried to quash the images.
Aloneness ate at her—then fear of being discovered. Both
emotions battled. Part of her rational mind screamed at her to find
shelter. She needed fire. But if she made fire, who would find her?
The heat of the sun beat down upon her and Sky was parched,
adding to her temperamental state. She ignored the hungry rumble
in her belly and it eventually went away. Sky hummed a silly tune
as she droned on through the massive trees of nothingness. The
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bark beneath her hands had no feel as she moved from tree to tree,
keeping herself upright. Mechanics of motion kept her going.
A branch snapped to her right; she jumped and then froze in
panic. Images of brutal death crashed within her thoughts and a
whimper slipped from her throat unbidden. Ever so slowly her
head turned in the direction of the sound and her eyes widened.
“Brody!” she screamed.
She ran to him. She never in a million years thought she
would be this excited to see him, but when she was close enough,
she flung herself against him and wrapped her arms around him in
relief and squeezed, hanging on for dear life. She was sobbing
uncontrollably and she didn’t care if he teased her later. Finally,
she was safe. The wonderful warmth of his skin against her face
was heavenly. She felt his large hands wrap around her upper arms
and he held her at arm’s length. Her hands splayed across his bare,
tanned, powerful chest. Stupidly, she wondered what happened to
his shirt. She never realized before he was so huge; he was more
muscular than she had thought. His biceps bulged impressively and
only yesterday she had thought he wasn’t nearly as broad as Rolf—
she was mistaken. His facial expression was odd. He said
something to her that she didn’t understand. Her head cocked to
the side.
“Brody, please, no games. Where is Rolf?” she asked in
desperation.
“Rolf?” he questioned.
“Please, I want Rolf. I saw something horrible. We need to
call the police; people were murdered. It was so awful.”
Again he spoke to her in a language she didn’t understand. Sky
was growing angry as her frustration rose.
Damn the man.
Why is he
acting this way?
Can’t he see how distressed I am, how disheveled? For just
once, couldn’t it be about someone other than himself?
She took a step
back from him in her annoyance and noticed his clothes. Sky
cleared her thoughts and studied, really studied, the man before
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her. His pants were leather hide with fur at the sides.
What on earth
is he wearing?
He had a strap at his chest and she could see the hilt of
a sword behind his shoulder.
When did he find that? Had it been near
the skeleton too? How did his hair get so long?
He kept it neat and short
around his ears, now his hair hung almost to his shoulders. He also
had a few days’ beard growth.
What is up with that?
Colleen liked
him clean-shaven. Ceaselessly, she complained he chafed her
tender skin with stubble.
“Brody, what’s going on?” Sky asked, her confusion rising. He
was also in leather moccasins; they were strapped up almost under
his knees. They were almost flat to the ground and yet he appeared
taller than normal.
He pointed to himself and said, “Brandr.”
“Brandr?” she whispered.
What game is he playing at now?
He looked her over from head to toe as though he didn’t
know who she was. His assessment was almost critical in her
opinion. Finally, his eyes narrowed and he thrust her from him and
he pulled his sword. The weapon was massive.
Sky’s eyes widened fearfully. She hastened an unsteady step
back.
“Brody?”
“Brandr!” he shouted.
He reached over to grab her hair and pull her head back. The
image of the woman with the slit throat came to mind and she
howled in terror.
This isn’t Brody.
He looked identical to him but
her Brody had never harmed her the way this man was. Brody liked
to tease, but he never got physical with her. Her hands splayed
across his chest and she pushed at him weakly.
“Stop,” she cried.
To her horror another man appeared, then another. They
were as powerfully built as this man; both were blond and bare-
chested. They were also armed with huge swords.
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All three began speaking in a strange language. The argument
became heated. The one who claimed to be Brandr gripped her
throat in one huge hand, lifting her to her tiptoes effortlessly and
said something. Her hands, hidden in the cuffs, gripped his
powerful forearm. The other men seemed to think, then smiled,
the oldest of the three chuckled and nodded. Brandr clutched her
sleeve from his arm, releasing her throat and she settled back onto
her feet. Next he shook her arm up and down like a limp piece of
spaghetti. That had both of the men laughing and slapping their
thighs with amusement.
Sky realized they were making fun of her size. Always touchy
about her small stature, she stopped being afraid and struck at
Brandr’s chest with a semiclosed fist in outrage. She hit as hard as
she could with her material-covered palm against solid muscle. Sky
had never in her life struck anyone in anger. It hurt her hand, and
sent a wave of shock through her body and she winced.
Brandr was no longer laughing. He handed his sword to
another man and he gripped both of her arms and shook her until
her teeth rattled. Her entire body was jerked back and forth with
awesome pressure.
“Stop, please,” she cried out in new terror.
Her eyes squeezed shut and she cried out again begging him to
listen. He was hurting her. Why would he hurt her? She was no
threat to him or the others. When he released her, she slumped to
the ground, sobbing. The men were laughing again. Brandr knelt
before her, scowling. His next words and tone were a definite
warning. Her fear was overwhelming. She ached from head to toe.
She crawled into his arms wanting to hide. Brandr picked her up
and slung her over his shoulder with ease. He retrieved his sword
and began walking.
* * * *
For the rest of the day Sky gathered armloads of sticks and
twigs for the large fire at the men’s small campsite. She had a
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massive pile, but Brandr kept instructing her to get more. She
knew they wouldn’t possibly use it all, but when she had argued
with him, he had raised his hand as though to strike her. Sky had
raced into the woods from the little clearing to do his bidding with
the men laughing behind her. She was cautious not to stray too far.
Because she hadn’t been killed, her anxiety had lowered,
somewhat. She was still unsure and fearful, yet she felt if they were
going to cause her undue harm they would have already. Though
they seemed to take pleasure in ordering her to do menial tasks
repetitively. She had come to the conclusion they were bullies. She
didn’t think they were responsible for the brutal murders. If they
had been, no doubt she would be dead. Bullies or not, she felt she
was safer with them than alone.
Next Brandr had her hauling large rocks from the riverbank to
place around the fire, containing it. Each time Brandr sent her back
for larger rocks until she was gasping for breath lugging
cantaloupe-sized miniboulders. She filled each man’s leather flask
with water. She shook out Brandr’s large fur and placed it over soft
pine boughs she collected, yanking them from trees or using a
sharp rock to cut them down. Her arms and legs were aching and
her feet were sore. Her hands shook from all the cutting and
tugging she had done. When her body trembled she stopped and
stood still for a moment, feeling woozy from lack of sleep and little
food. They had allowed her to drink water from her hands at the
river but had given her nothing else. Tears burned the back of her
eyes.
Brandr approached. She didn’t argue this time, just gazed up
at him solemnly. She wasn’t certain she could run if he lifted his
hand to her. She couldn’t go on. Brandr studied her for a moment
and looked at her huge pile of wood; he checked the rocks at the
fire and hefted his full flask. Finally, he nodded his approval and
Sky collapsed at his feet in relief. He gripped her arm and dragged
her up then he propelled her to his large fur under the tree,
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shoving her onto it. Terrified, she thought he meant to rape her.
But he walked away. Sky curled into a small ball with weariness.
Before long, she slept.
Sky was awakened when Brandr kicked her belly. It wasn’t a
cruel blow, but enough to have her on her feet. It was growing
dark and he led her to the fire. She sat down beside him, trying to
make herself smaller. A large roast of meat was spitted near the
flames and her belly rumbled. The other men were watching her.
One was eying her intently. Sky could tell by the look on his face
what he wanted and moved even closer to Brandr.
The man said something to Brandr that made him scowl.
Brandr snapped a few words at him and the man shrugged. Feeling
her hand nudged, she was handed some flatbread that she accepted
gratefully. Brandr said a word to her and she repeated it. When he
handed her a skewered chunk of the heavenly smelling meat, he
said the same word which had her to believe she was thanking him
for what he was giving her. When he offered her a drink from his
leather flask, she said the word without prompting and he nodded
in approval.
Sky dove hungrily into the meat, practically pouncing into it.
The juices slipped down her chin. Eyes squeezed closed in delight,
she hadn’t thought there was a more wonderful flavor. When she
was done she sucked on her fingers enthusiastically. She looked at
Brandr with hope, still famished from days of going without. He
shook his head with his eyes raised, but handed her more meat. Sky
wolfed down that as well as more flatbread until finally her hunger
was satisfied.
When they were finished eating, Brandr looked her over, then
looked at the man who had been watching her so intently
throughout the meal. He was motioning toward Brandr
enthusiastically. The man held up a small fur and indicated Sky.
Brandr scoffed and shook his head. Sky felt her panic rise. The man
shrugged and held up a deadly looking knife. Brandr looked at her
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and then at the knife. It was apparent the man wanted to make a
trade. Brandr looked interested in the well-crafted weapon. He
took it into his hands and studied it closely. Sky could see he was
considering giving her to the man. She gripped Brandr’s arm.
“Please, no,” she pleaded, her eyes settling onto him in terror,
and her belly rolling.
The man said something to Brandr. Brandr laughed and then
shrugged as if what the man said was of no consequence.
Sky slunk back as the man approached and reached for her. He
pulled Sky into his arms and pinned her easily. Sky struggled and
screamed when she felt her pants slip over her hips a short way.
She cried out when the man’s finger tried to push into her behind.
She began sobbing and wiggling and pleaded with him to stop.