Post by Griffie on May 14, 2009 18:56:22 GMT -5
She grimly hung onto the feeling of security. She'd had such little of that to hang onto in the last five years that she'd almost forgotten how it felt to be safe and warm. Now wasn't one of those times, she was neither safe, nor warm, but clinging to the remembrance of such feelings in order to keep her sanity. In truth she was freezing cold, desperately hungry, and too tired to keep herself awake and possibly alive. Her fingers were frozen in her makeshift mittens, and her eyelashes held small tips of frost. Her blue-gray eyes were closed tightly against the weather, and she leaned as far back in her cage as she could. She could feel the bumping and jousting of the heavy wagon as the drays plodded along at a bone jarringly sedate pace. The steady thunk of their hooves was muffled by the new fallen snow, and she could hear them puffing out big gasps of air. For the merchant had only slowed his wagon down when the danger that had been called forward to them seemed to have past. Just her luck that she'd be captured by a slave trader, then sold her off to a fat merchant with a load of goods that was headed toward Frostveil and the current 'King of the Veil'. So far as Tala knew, the title proclaimed little, besides that fact that whoever the current 'king' was he owned the desolate piece of ice that the odd Snowpeople called home.
She blew a breath to try and warm her frozen lips and shivered again. A bone deep ache traveling through her as she shivered, making her gasp and bringing tears to her eyes. Which froze the instant they hit the air and clung to her eyelashes, adding to her general misery. She huddled, or tried to, further back, away from the freezing wind that whipped through the bars of her cage and chilled her even more, if at all possible. She wished, not for the first time, that she'd stuck to herself and stayed home. Her brother might of been insufferable, and egotistical, but at least she'd had a warm bed and a roof over her head, and had been happy. Sure she'd set out to get away from the day to day life of an unstable pack, the chaos, and the ever increasing attempts by the Pack males to corner her alone. They'd called her beautiful, and wonderful, and all the while she knew they only wanted her because of her brother. But that didn't bother her, it never really had, what had bothered her was the fact that the only wolf she'd loved had abandoned her. She couldn't take it anymore. Everything had reminded her that he'd scorned her. Taken a new lover, and then used her to try to gain favor with her brother. She might of been nave, but she wasn't stupid. So she'd left. She'd grabbed a horse and packs and taken her leave. Spoken to her brother before she'd done so, and loaded up her things. Which, she supposed, was the reason they'd probably picked her as a prime target for robbery.
She could feel her fingers and toes grow numb and silent of their aches and felt a flash of true fear travel the length and breath of her body. She'd heard of frost numb, it started with a slight warming of the areas and then they'd go numb and then they'd turn black and be useless. She might of been from a warm climate that rarely got this cold, but even she'd heard tales of lost limbs and horror stories of what the icy weather could do to you. It woke her to her true captivity and danger, as nothing else had. She mused to herself that she'd been in denial, and only now did she truly regret getting caught. Though there was nothing she could of done about it really.
They'd cornered her as she was leaving the woods, up against the rough slate cliff that lined the road on that side. Her horse couldn't outrun them, though she'd tired. They'd laughed and chased her down on their shaggy mountain horses, calling her names in a language she didn't know, but had no doubt it wasn't pleasant. She'd run, tripped, fell, and had a silver net thrown over her (wasn't that the way it went? When ever you needed most to run swift and sure, you always tripped and fell? She thought bitterly to herself). She'd woken up in a cage; a padded silver collar around her neck, with men standing above her, bartering for her. The truth hadn't set in, not until now. She was a slave. A... slave... She thought morosely, staring out at the white landscape, wishing she were elsewhere and knowing her wish would never come true.
The bouncing came to a sudden halt, and she could hear the merchant's angry voice as he spoke to someone. She leaned forward, sticking her head out just a bit through the bars to take a peek at what was going on; careful to stay away from them as much as she could. She frowned with sudden and intense disappointment, for she could see nothing at all of what was happening up front. Only the back of the merchants fat head, and the side of the wagon. She pulled herself back through, and huddled back into the shadows.
She was freezing, and wished, not for the first time, that the damned collar wasn't around her neck. If only she could shift, she would at least be warm and dry. The bastard hadn't even allowed her that. She seethed.
She blew a breath to try and warm her frozen lips and shivered again. A bone deep ache traveling through her as she shivered, making her gasp and bringing tears to her eyes. Which froze the instant they hit the air and clung to her eyelashes, adding to her general misery. She huddled, or tried to, further back, away from the freezing wind that whipped through the bars of her cage and chilled her even more, if at all possible. She wished, not for the first time, that she'd stuck to herself and stayed home. Her brother might of been insufferable, and egotistical, but at least she'd had a warm bed and a roof over her head, and had been happy. Sure she'd set out to get away from the day to day life of an unstable pack, the chaos, and the ever increasing attempts by the Pack males to corner her alone. They'd called her beautiful, and wonderful, and all the while she knew they only wanted her because of her brother. But that didn't bother her, it never really had, what had bothered her was the fact that the only wolf she'd loved had abandoned her. She couldn't take it anymore. Everything had reminded her that he'd scorned her. Taken a new lover, and then used her to try to gain favor with her brother. She might of been nave, but she wasn't stupid. So she'd left. She'd grabbed a horse and packs and taken her leave. Spoken to her brother before she'd done so, and loaded up her things. Which, she supposed, was the reason they'd probably picked her as a prime target for robbery.
She could feel her fingers and toes grow numb and silent of their aches and felt a flash of true fear travel the length and breath of her body. She'd heard of frost numb, it started with a slight warming of the areas and then they'd go numb and then they'd turn black and be useless. She might of been from a warm climate that rarely got this cold, but even she'd heard tales of lost limbs and horror stories of what the icy weather could do to you. It woke her to her true captivity and danger, as nothing else had. She mused to herself that she'd been in denial, and only now did she truly regret getting caught. Though there was nothing she could of done about it really.
They'd cornered her as she was leaving the woods, up against the rough slate cliff that lined the road on that side. Her horse couldn't outrun them, though she'd tired. They'd laughed and chased her down on their shaggy mountain horses, calling her names in a language she didn't know, but had no doubt it wasn't pleasant. She'd run, tripped, fell, and had a silver net thrown over her (wasn't that the way it went? When ever you needed most to run swift and sure, you always tripped and fell? She thought bitterly to herself). She'd woken up in a cage; a padded silver collar around her neck, with men standing above her, bartering for her. The truth hadn't set in, not until now. She was a slave. A... slave... She thought morosely, staring out at the white landscape, wishing she were elsewhere and knowing her wish would never come true.
The bouncing came to a sudden halt, and she could hear the merchant's angry voice as he spoke to someone. She leaned forward, sticking her head out just a bit through the bars to take a peek at what was going on; careful to stay away from them as much as she could. She frowned with sudden and intense disappointment, for she could see nothing at all of what was happening up front. Only the back of the merchants fat head, and the side of the wagon. She pulled herself back through, and huddled back into the shadows.
She was freezing, and wished, not for the first time, that the damned collar wasn't around her neck. If only she could shift, she would at least be warm and dry. The bastard hadn't even allowed her that. She seethed.