Weapon
Jezirea didn't know if she'd have a chance to escape at night. They might tie her to a tree, or have a guard watch her all night.
Now, she had an obvious chance to escape so she wasn't going to waste it.
She waited for the right moment, which was hard to plan for since she couldn't see very far down the path, bouncing around across the horse's rear end.
Suddenly, the trees thickened even more, and the bandits turned around a sharp bend.
This is it.
Jezirea slipped off the back of the horse, and landed roughly on her feet. She smirked, and looked up at the retreating bandits, expecting to hear shouts of outrage, but all she saw was one of them grinning evily over his shoulder at her.
They weren't even slowing to turn around.
Jezirea realized why as her upper body was jerked roughly by her arms, throwing her to the rough, dirt trail.
She could hear the bandits shouting, ordering their horses to speed up to a gallop. Her body was hauled roughly across the trail; rocks biting in to her skins and branches reaching out and scratching her.
Those bastards had tied her restraints to the saddle.
Jezirea rolled about, trying to ease the pressure on her arms, and find a less painful position to be slid across the ground with.
Even if the bandits hadn't taken her dagger when they had first captured her, there was no way she could have reached for it with her hands restrained, and now above her head.
The bandits rode on for hours, dragging Jezirea the whole way. By the time they reached their destination for the night, she was barely concscious and her body was covered in dark, ugly bruises and oozing cuts.
She doubted that her arms would work properally ever again, but it didn't really matter, because that night, infection set in to her wounds. Of course, the bandits didn't bother to treat her; reveling in her pain and discomfort.
She didn't survive the week.
Now, she had an obvious chance to escape so she wasn't going to waste it.
She waited for the right moment, which was hard to plan for since she couldn't see very far down the path, bouncing around across the horse's rear end.
Suddenly, the trees thickened even more, and the bandits turned around a sharp bend.
This is it.
Jezirea slipped off the back of the horse, and landed roughly on her feet. She smirked, and looked up at the retreating bandits, expecting to hear shouts of outrage, but all she saw was one of them grinning evily over his shoulder at her.
They weren't even slowing to turn around.
Jezirea realized why as her upper body was jerked roughly by her arms, throwing her to the rough, dirt trail.
She could hear the bandits shouting, ordering their horses to speed up to a gallop. Her body was hauled roughly across the trail; rocks biting in to her skins and branches reaching out and scratching her.
Those bastards had tied her restraints to the saddle.
Jezirea rolled about, trying to ease the pressure on her arms, and find a less painful position to be slid across the ground with.
Even if the bandits hadn't taken her dagger when they had first captured her, there was no way she could have reached for it with her hands restrained, and now above her head.
The bandits rode on for hours, dragging Jezirea the whole way. By the time they reached their destination for the night, she was barely concscious and her body was covered in dark, ugly bruises and oozing cuts.
She doubted that her arms would work properally ever again, but it didn't really matter, because that night, infection set in to her wounds. Of course, the bandits didn't bother to treat her; reveling in her pain and discomfort.
She didn't survive the week.
