The Fate of Europe
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The Fate Of Ankneela - 1 free porn video
Ankneela had walked all day, hunting. She travelled light, carrying only her bow and a dozen arrows. She carried no food or water, intending to be back before nightfall. But there had been no sign of game, and the shadows had grown long, forcing her to make an impromptu camp out of branches and leaves. She slept poorly, restless and hungry.
At first light she supped dew from the grass, and pushed on. She would give herself until noon at the latest before turning back.
The ground had been rising into a narrow mountain pass for some time, and the sun was near its zenith when she made her decision. The track rose ahead and rounded a bend. She would go only as far as the bend. If there was nothing promising in sight, she would turn back and head for home. There was always the hope of better luck on the day and a half it would take her to return. She rounded the bend cautiously for the view was limited. As her eyes strained to pierce the gloom ahead, two things happened in quick succession. Looking back at her, red-eyed and dangerous, were several of the most enormous Ibexes she had ever seen. Startled, she placed a foot carelessly, slipped, and her arrows spilled out and clattered into the drop.
Her decision was made: even if she wanted to tackle these creatures alone, and she most assuredly did not, her weapons were gone. The best she could hope for now was a safe return, hungry and empty handed, and with the added shame of losing her arrows. Heart still pounding, she turned and started to make her way back down the track.
However, angry with herself and still fearful, she spent a little too much time looking over her shoulder for the red eyes, and not quite enough scanning the ground ahead, for there was a sudden movement about her ankles, and her foot was jerked from beneath her as she was pulled off the ground. The v******e of the motion made her lose her grip on her bow, now quite useless anyway. Instinctively she reached for her hunting knife, but before she could grasp it it slipped out of its scabbard, and lay tantalizingly out of reach of her fingertips. She screamed inwardly at her foolishness - how could she have let this happen?
As she dangled, helplessly inverted, two feet from the ground, a figure emerged from a dark crevice in the rock, not much wider than his shoulders. It was a man, young and lean and muscular. Without pausing to appraise his prey, he tied her hands behind her, then moved to secure her ankles. As he did this, a second young warrior appeared and set about lowering her to the ground. After gathering up her s**ttered weapons, they slid a pole between her wrists and ankles, hoisted the pole between their shoulders, and set off at a trot into the crevice. During this whole operation, not a word had passed between them, and they had asked her no questions. Terrified as she was by her desperate situation, Ankneela was even more dismayed by their ruthless efficiency. Who were these people? What would they do with her?
Where the ground levelled out at the bottom of the crack, they entered the gloom of a deep forest, twisting and turning between the massive old trees. Ankneela lost all sense of direction, all hope that she could ever find the way back. Eventually the light brightened and they emerged into an enormous clearing. In the center of the clearing was a stockade made of sharpened tree trunks set into the ground, stretching to the left and right in an apparent circle. Ankneela’s despair deepened at this sight. Her own people had neither the resources nor the skill to build such a thing.
As as they approached the gate in the tree-wall, unseen hands opened it, and they passed though into the space beyond. For the the first time since her capture, the two warriors slowed to a walk, and Ankneela was able to look around. They were walking through a village of thatched huts, not unlike her own, but much larger. Their presence was causing much excitement - throngs of people jostled to get a look at her, pointing and chattering in an unfamiliar language. She had seen captives arrive in her own village this way, slung from a pole like a dead b**st, And she had pitied them, never dreaming it could happen to her.
Arriving at an unremarkable looking hut, quite deep into the village interior, the warriors ducked inside, lowered her gently to the ground, slid the pole from between her limbs, and left without a second glance. The inside of the hut was clean and had a bed of long grasses, freshly cut by the smell, but was otherwise without ornament. As Ankneela tried to massage some feeling back into her hands and feet, a shadow darkened the doorway. A young girl ducked inside and deposited two bowls on the floor. One contained water, the other some kind of meat stew. Ankneela started salivating at the smell of it, remembering how long it had been since she had eaten. She tried to thank the young girl, and possibly try to learn her name, but she had gone as quickly as she came. No matter - for now it was sufficient to fill her aching belly.
Later, her hunger and thirst slaked, she had time for other thoughts. When she had arrived in the village, looking for all the world like a hunted a****l, it had occurred to her that this might actually be what she was. Her own tribe did not practice cannibalism, but she had heard that others did. But now that they had fed her, this seemed less likely - who would feed a b**st before slaughtering it? The same would be true if she was to be a human sacrifice - another thing her tribe did not indulge in. Dismissing these, she pondered other possibilities. Her own tribe did keep captured women as sex-slaves. They could be pulled from their hut and ****d by any man (or many men) at any time. Ankneela was not a virgin, but this possibility was deeply disturbing to her. However, though she had been told and believed, that she was attractive to men, the two young warriors had shown no interest in her in that way. It was a mystery. With these bad thoughts, and precious few good ones, swirling in her mind, Ankneela drifted off into a troubled sleep.
At first light, she was already awake when the same young girl arrived with food and drink, but this time stayed to watch her eat. Ankneela tried some experimental questions in her own language, then in the language of a neighboring tribe that her people traded with, and finally in the soundless sign-language that they used while hunting. The young woman simply smiled and shook her head. Ankneela gave up, and busied herself with the food. At least she would not starve here apparently.
When she had satisfied her hunger, the young woman untied her wrists and ankles and led her out of the hut. As they moved away, the two young men who had been guarding her door fell in behind them. Arriving at a stream that ran through the village, Ankneela was allowed to wash and attend to her other needs. There were other women here who looked at her with curiosity but no apparent malice, but there were no men. The two guards had remained at a respectful distance with their backs turned, so as not to observe the ablutions of the women.
When Ankneela had finished, the young girl beckoned her to follow, and led her back through the village, again escorted by the guards, until they arrived at a large hut on the edge of the village’s central clearing. Now the young girl turned and left, while the guards escorted her inside. The interior was dim and aromatic with smoke and herbs, and apparently unoccupied. In the center of the space were two short, stout poles set into the ground. The guards encouraged her to stand with one foot on each of these, her legs wide apart. Then they bound her hands behind her, and attached them to a ceiling hook in an uncomfortable strappado position. Passing a cord around her waist and between her legs, they also attached that to the hook. Finally they bound her hair in a similar fashion, and silently disappeared. Ankneela was left, straining but quite unable to move, to ponder what this could mean. Perhaps she was to be a sex-slave after all. But the men had left. How could this be understood?
Her mind was still swirling with unpleasant possibilities when the door covering twitched aside to admit two women. Ankneela saw at once that the older of the two, though beautiful, was clearly a witch woman. She wore a headdress made of the skull of one of the huge Ibex things, and the rest of her clothing was elaborate and mysterious. In Ankneela’s tribe such beings were always male, but it seemed that everything was different here. The younger woman, perhaps only four or five years older than Ankneela, was strikingly beautiful, perhaps an acolyte. When she shrugged off the a****l skin she was wrapped in, she was completely naked underneath. Her skin glowed, smooth and golden in the candle light.
The two of them walked slowly around Ankneela, appraising and exchanging comments in their alien language. Apparently satisfied, they took up positions behind her, and Ankneela felt her short tunic lifted. There was the sound of a knife leaving its scabbard, and she tensed and braced herself for agony. But instead there was the coldness of steel against her skin as the blade was eased under the edge of her garments. Then the blade sang, cutting through them as though they were nothing, leaving her completely exposed to the gaze of the women.
More incomprehensible words were exchanged back and forth. The acolyte was so close that Ankneela could feel her breath on her exposed skin as she talked. She felt the strands of the crotch cord being adjusted to keep her labia opened and accessible. Gods, what did they mean to do to her?
Then came the touch of the acolyte’s long fingers sliding delicately up the backs of her thighs. The woman’s hands were soft as a baby’s. She clearly had never worked in the fields, or hunted. Ankneela guessed she had trained her whole life for this. But what was “this”? Her hands stroked Ankneela’s buttocks for a while, gentle and bird-like, before slipping between her thighs. Ankneela’s mind reeled in confusion. No one had ever touched her like this before - the men of her tribe were rough and business-like in their coupling. Love between women was whispered of but strictly forbidden. Yet the acolyte’s fingers were so wonderfully sensual that Ankneela felt herself growing wet. The acolyte noticed and said something to the witch woman. Apparently pleased with her reaction, the acolyte slipped a slender finger inside her, followed immediately by a second. Ankneela’s senses swam. The delicious fullness she felt was slow and sensual, not at all like the urgent thrusting of a man. She began to experience the tell-tale tingling that foretold of her coming climax - something she occasionally gave herself on a lonely night, but had also never experienced from a man. Her breathing grew deep and rapid as she fought against this forbidden sensation, but it could not be resisted, and she convulsed moaning and straining against the ropes. The acolyte continued, milking every drop of pleasure from her, until she hung as limp as a c***d’s toy.
While she hung there, panting and sighing as the pleasure slowly subsided, the two women again exchanged urgent conversation - questions and answers and more questions passed between them, while the acolyte’s fingers gently probed and opened her secret folds for their inspection.
Eventually they seemed to reach some sort of satisfactory conclusion, and the hands departed. The acolyte wrapped herself in the a****l skin once more, and they left the hut, exchanging brief words with the two guards outside.
The guards entered, followed by the young girl who had led her here. Ankneela’s face burned that men should see her in such a condition. They had been just outside the door, and must have heard her moans and cries of pleasure. How could she bear the shame of such a thing? But, as before, they were silent and efficient as they released her, and lowered her to the floor, legs still trembling. Then they left her to the ministrations of the young girl, who offered her water and a reassuring smile.
After Ankneela had somewhat recovered her composure, the girl gestured to the hut opening and led her out into the bright morning light. A small crowd of women greeted her with smiles and offerings of food. Gods! Had they been there the whole time? And she was still naked - was there no end to this humiliation? But they touched her gently, and chattered and smiled, and there seemed to be no malice in them. Though their words were meaningless, Ankneela came to understand through gestures that she was free to go anywhere she liked within the confines of the tree wall. And so she did, naked as she was - it didn’t seem to matter. Wherever she went the women would pause in their work to offer her food and drink. The few men that she saw kept their distance and did not look at her directly - clearly she was off-limits to them.
As it grew dark, she made her way back to “her hut”. The guards averted their eyes as she ducked inside, but she was sure they would stay there all night. Lying on her sweet-smelling grassy bed, she replayed the day’s events in her mind. But she was exhausted by the emotion and strangeness of it, and soon fell into a dreamless sleep, wondering what the next day would bring.
This time she was still sleeping when the young girl woke her with food and drink. But the rest of the morning was a repeat of the previous morning in practically every detail. Except that, freed from the fear of imminent death or torture, her climax was, if anything, even longer and more intense than the first day’s.
This became Ankneela’s routine - her early morning orgasm, followed by the freedom of the village for the rest of the day. Nothing else was expected of her. Although the village women were kind to her in every way, she made no progress in talking to them. They simply seemed uninterested in her attempts to communicate. Despite this, she had formed a theory to explain the strange ritual that had become her new life. In her own tribe, the witch men would sacrifice small a****ls or chickens, and pore over the entrails to foretell the future. In this way they would determine the most auspicious time to plant crops, conduct raids against other tribes, and a hundred other things. Ankneela guessed that the witch women used the appearance of her sex, her female secretions, and perhaps even the length and tone of her pleasure cries, for the same purpose. And this also explained the village women’s kindness to her - she was instrumental in ensuring the success of their crops, and safety from all manner of disasters.
Alone in her hut at night, she had much time to ponder her situation. Occasionally, having had a glimpse of a handsome warrior during the day, she felt a twinge of regret that she would never again feel the hot urgency of a muscular young man between her thighs. On the other hand, the sensual fingers of the acolyte had given her more pleasure than she had ever received from any man. She dreamed sometimes of a night-time visit from the acolyte. Who could imagine the silky delights that might pass between them in the absence of ropes and the witch woman’s deliberations? But she knew also that this would never happen.
But why focus on regrets? After all, she spent her mornings squirming in ecstasy, and her days in a kind of freedom enjoyed by few in her tribe. Her belly was full. And she had not been eaten, sacrificed, burned alive, or tortured in any one of a hundred possible ways. All in all it seemed that the gods had smiled upon her. And soon it would be dawn. And with the dawn would come good food, a refreshing bath, and the slender sensual fingers of the acolyte.
—-
In time Ankneela settled into this life, barely thinking of her tribe anymore as the years passed, until one afternoon there was a commotion from the direction of the gate. Joining the throng of curious women, she arrived in time to see the gate closing. The two warriors who had just entered were slick with sweat. Hoisted between their shoulders was a pole from which a young girl was hanging. Her expression of mingled terror and defiance awoke Ankneela’s memory of her own arrival so long ago. What would they do with her? What could this mean? Since she had never managed to learn even the basics of their language, there was no way to ask.
The next morning, Ankneela breakfasted as usual. She bathed as usual. But the girl and accompanying guards led her back to her own hut, and not to the place of the witch woman and her acolyte. All day Ankneela stayed inside, her mind once again whirling with unpleasant possibilities...
At first light she supped dew from the grass, and pushed on. She would give herself until noon at the latest before turning back.
The ground had been rising into a narrow mountain pass for some time, and the sun was near its zenith when she made her decision. The track rose ahead and rounded a bend. She would go only as far as the bend. If there was nothing promising in sight, she would turn back and head for home. There was always the hope of better luck on the day and a half it would take her to return. She rounded the bend cautiously for the view was limited. As her eyes strained to pierce the gloom ahead, two things happened in quick succession. Looking back at her, red-eyed and dangerous, were several of the most enormous Ibexes she had ever seen. Startled, she placed a foot carelessly, slipped, and her arrows spilled out and clattered into the drop.
Her decision was made: even if she wanted to tackle these creatures alone, and she most assuredly did not, her weapons were gone. The best she could hope for now was a safe return, hungry and empty handed, and with the added shame of losing her arrows. Heart still pounding, she turned and started to make her way back down the track.
However, angry with herself and still fearful, she spent a little too much time looking over her shoulder for the red eyes, and not quite enough scanning the ground ahead, for there was a sudden movement about her ankles, and her foot was jerked from beneath her as she was pulled off the ground. The v******e of the motion made her lose her grip on her bow, now quite useless anyway. Instinctively she reached for her hunting knife, but before she could grasp it it slipped out of its scabbard, and lay tantalizingly out of reach of her fingertips. She screamed inwardly at her foolishness - how could she have let this happen?
As she dangled, helplessly inverted, two feet from the ground, a figure emerged from a dark crevice in the rock, not much wider than his shoulders. It was a man, young and lean and muscular. Without pausing to appraise his prey, he tied her hands behind her, then moved to secure her ankles. As he did this, a second young warrior appeared and set about lowering her to the ground. After gathering up her s**ttered weapons, they slid a pole between her wrists and ankles, hoisted the pole between their shoulders, and set off at a trot into the crevice. During this whole operation, not a word had passed between them, and they had asked her no questions. Terrified as she was by her desperate situation, Ankneela was even more dismayed by their ruthless efficiency. Who were these people? What would they do with her?
Where the ground levelled out at the bottom of the crack, they entered the gloom of a deep forest, twisting and turning between the massive old trees. Ankneela lost all sense of direction, all hope that she could ever find the way back. Eventually the light brightened and they emerged into an enormous clearing. In the center of the clearing was a stockade made of sharpened tree trunks set into the ground, stretching to the left and right in an apparent circle. Ankneela’s despair deepened at this sight. Her own people had neither the resources nor the skill to build such a thing.
As as they approached the gate in the tree-wall, unseen hands opened it, and they passed though into the space beyond. For the the first time since her capture, the two warriors slowed to a walk, and Ankneela was able to look around. They were walking through a village of thatched huts, not unlike her own, but much larger. Their presence was causing much excitement - throngs of people jostled to get a look at her, pointing and chattering in an unfamiliar language. She had seen captives arrive in her own village this way, slung from a pole like a dead b**st, And she had pitied them, never dreaming it could happen to her.
Arriving at an unremarkable looking hut, quite deep into the village interior, the warriors ducked inside, lowered her gently to the ground, slid the pole from between her limbs, and left without a second glance. The inside of the hut was clean and had a bed of long grasses, freshly cut by the smell, but was otherwise without ornament. As Ankneela tried to massage some feeling back into her hands and feet, a shadow darkened the doorway. A young girl ducked inside and deposited two bowls on the floor. One contained water, the other some kind of meat stew. Ankneela started salivating at the smell of it, remembering how long it had been since she had eaten. She tried to thank the young girl, and possibly try to learn her name, but she had gone as quickly as she came. No matter - for now it was sufficient to fill her aching belly.
Later, her hunger and thirst slaked, she had time for other thoughts. When she had arrived in the village, looking for all the world like a hunted a****l, it had occurred to her that this might actually be what she was. Her own tribe did not practice cannibalism, but she had heard that others did. But now that they had fed her, this seemed less likely - who would feed a b**st before slaughtering it? The same would be true if she was to be a human sacrifice - another thing her tribe did not indulge in. Dismissing these, she pondered other possibilities. Her own tribe did keep captured women as sex-slaves. They could be pulled from their hut and ****d by any man (or many men) at any time. Ankneela was not a virgin, but this possibility was deeply disturbing to her. However, though she had been told and believed, that she was attractive to men, the two young warriors had shown no interest in her in that way. It was a mystery. With these bad thoughts, and precious few good ones, swirling in her mind, Ankneela drifted off into a troubled sleep.
At first light, she was already awake when the same young girl arrived with food and drink, but this time stayed to watch her eat. Ankneela tried some experimental questions in her own language, then in the language of a neighboring tribe that her people traded with, and finally in the soundless sign-language that they used while hunting. The young woman simply smiled and shook her head. Ankneela gave up, and busied herself with the food. At least she would not starve here apparently.
When she had satisfied her hunger, the young woman untied her wrists and ankles and led her out of the hut. As they moved away, the two young men who had been guarding her door fell in behind them. Arriving at a stream that ran through the village, Ankneela was allowed to wash and attend to her other needs. There were other women here who looked at her with curiosity but no apparent malice, but there were no men. The two guards had remained at a respectful distance with their backs turned, so as not to observe the ablutions of the women.
When Ankneela had finished, the young girl beckoned her to follow, and led her back through the village, again escorted by the guards, until they arrived at a large hut on the edge of the village’s central clearing. Now the young girl turned and left, while the guards escorted her inside. The interior was dim and aromatic with smoke and herbs, and apparently unoccupied. In the center of the space were two short, stout poles set into the ground. The guards encouraged her to stand with one foot on each of these, her legs wide apart. Then they bound her hands behind her, and attached them to a ceiling hook in an uncomfortable strappado position. Passing a cord around her waist and between her legs, they also attached that to the hook. Finally they bound her hair in a similar fashion, and silently disappeared. Ankneela was left, straining but quite unable to move, to ponder what this could mean. Perhaps she was to be a sex-slave after all. But the men had left. How could this be understood?
Her mind was still swirling with unpleasant possibilities when the door covering twitched aside to admit two women. Ankneela saw at once that the older of the two, though beautiful, was clearly a witch woman. She wore a headdress made of the skull of one of the huge Ibex things, and the rest of her clothing was elaborate and mysterious. In Ankneela’s tribe such beings were always male, but it seemed that everything was different here. The younger woman, perhaps only four or five years older than Ankneela, was strikingly beautiful, perhaps an acolyte. When she shrugged off the a****l skin she was wrapped in, she was completely naked underneath. Her skin glowed, smooth and golden in the candle light.
The two of them walked slowly around Ankneela, appraising and exchanging comments in their alien language. Apparently satisfied, they took up positions behind her, and Ankneela felt her short tunic lifted. There was the sound of a knife leaving its scabbard, and she tensed and braced herself for agony. But instead there was the coldness of steel against her skin as the blade was eased under the edge of her garments. Then the blade sang, cutting through them as though they were nothing, leaving her completely exposed to the gaze of the women.
More incomprehensible words were exchanged back and forth. The acolyte was so close that Ankneela could feel her breath on her exposed skin as she talked. She felt the strands of the crotch cord being adjusted to keep her labia opened and accessible. Gods, what did they mean to do to her?
Then came the touch of the acolyte’s long fingers sliding delicately up the backs of her thighs. The woman’s hands were soft as a baby’s. She clearly had never worked in the fields, or hunted. Ankneela guessed she had trained her whole life for this. But what was “this”? Her hands stroked Ankneela’s buttocks for a while, gentle and bird-like, before slipping between her thighs. Ankneela’s mind reeled in confusion. No one had ever touched her like this before - the men of her tribe were rough and business-like in their coupling. Love between women was whispered of but strictly forbidden. Yet the acolyte’s fingers were so wonderfully sensual that Ankneela felt herself growing wet. The acolyte noticed and said something to the witch woman. Apparently pleased with her reaction, the acolyte slipped a slender finger inside her, followed immediately by a second. Ankneela’s senses swam. The delicious fullness she felt was slow and sensual, not at all like the urgent thrusting of a man. She began to experience the tell-tale tingling that foretold of her coming climax - something she occasionally gave herself on a lonely night, but had also never experienced from a man. Her breathing grew deep and rapid as she fought against this forbidden sensation, but it could not be resisted, and she convulsed moaning and straining against the ropes. The acolyte continued, milking every drop of pleasure from her, until she hung as limp as a c***d’s toy.
While she hung there, panting and sighing as the pleasure slowly subsided, the two women again exchanged urgent conversation - questions and answers and more questions passed between them, while the acolyte’s fingers gently probed and opened her secret folds for their inspection.
Eventually they seemed to reach some sort of satisfactory conclusion, and the hands departed. The acolyte wrapped herself in the a****l skin once more, and they left the hut, exchanging brief words with the two guards outside.
The guards entered, followed by the young girl who had led her here. Ankneela’s face burned that men should see her in such a condition. They had been just outside the door, and must have heard her moans and cries of pleasure. How could she bear the shame of such a thing? But, as before, they were silent and efficient as they released her, and lowered her to the floor, legs still trembling. Then they left her to the ministrations of the young girl, who offered her water and a reassuring smile.
After Ankneela had somewhat recovered her composure, the girl gestured to the hut opening and led her out into the bright morning light. A small crowd of women greeted her with smiles and offerings of food. Gods! Had they been there the whole time? And she was still naked - was there no end to this humiliation? But they touched her gently, and chattered and smiled, and there seemed to be no malice in them. Though their words were meaningless, Ankneela came to understand through gestures that she was free to go anywhere she liked within the confines of the tree wall. And so she did, naked as she was - it didn’t seem to matter. Wherever she went the women would pause in their work to offer her food and drink. The few men that she saw kept their distance and did not look at her directly - clearly she was off-limits to them.
As it grew dark, she made her way back to “her hut”. The guards averted their eyes as she ducked inside, but she was sure they would stay there all night. Lying on her sweet-smelling grassy bed, she replayed the day’s events in her mind. But she was exhausted by the emotion and strangeness of it, and soon fell into a dreamless sleep, wondering what the next day would bring.
This time she was still sleeping when the young girl woke her with food and drink. But the rest of the morning was a repeat of the previous morning in practically every detail. Except that, freed from the fear of imminent death or torture, her climax was, if anything, even longer and more intense than the first day’s.
This became Ankneela’s routine - her early morning orgasm, followed by the freedom of the village for the rest of the day. Nothing else was expected of her. Although the village women were kind to her in every way, she made no progress in talking to them. They simply seemed uninterested in her attempts to communicate. Despite this, she had formed a theory to explain the strange ritual that had become her new life. In her own tribe, the witch men would sacrifice small a****ls or chickens, and pore over the entrails to foretell the future. In this way they would determine the most auspicious time to plant crops, conduct raids against other tribes, and a hundred other things. Ankneela guessed that the witch women used the appearance of her sex, her female secretions, and perhaps even the length and tone of her pleasure cries, for the same purpose. And this also explained the village women’s kindness to her - she was instrumental in ensuring the success of their crops, and safety from all manner of disasters.
Alone in her hut at night, she had much time to ponder her situation. Occasionally, having had a glimpse of a handsome warrior during the day, she felt a twinge of regret that she would never again feel the hot urgency of a muscular young man between her thighs. On the other hand, the sensual fingers of the acolyte had given her more pleasure than she had ever received from any man. She dreamed sometimes of a night-time visit from the acolyte. Who could imagine the silky delights that might pass between them in the absence of ropes and the witch woman’s deliberations? But she knew also that this would never happen.
But why focus on regrets? After all, she spent her mornings squirming in ecstasy, and her days in a kind of freedom enjoyed by few in her tribe. Her belly was full. And she had not been eaten, sacrificed, burned alive, or tortured in any one of a hundred possible ways. All in all it seemed that the gods had smiled upon her. And soon it would be dawn. And with the dawn would come good food, a refreshing bath, and the slender sensual fingers of the acolyte.
—-
In time Ankneela settled into this life, barely thinking of her tribe anymore as the years passed, until one afternoon there was a commotion from the direction of the gate. Joining the throng of curious women, she arrived in time to see the gate closing. The two warriors who had just entered were slick with sweat. Hoisted between their shoulders was a pole from which a young girl was hanging. Her expression of mingled terror and defiance awoke Ankneela’s memory of her own arrival so long ago. What would they do with her? What could this mean? Since she had never managed to learn even the basics of their language, there was no way to ask.
The next morning, Ankneela breakfasted as usual. She bathed as usual. But the girl and accompanying guards led her back to her own hut, and not to the place of the witch woman and her acolyte. All day Ankneela stayed inside, her mind once again whirling with unpleasant possibilities...
Kaidence
- 25.05.2020
- 7
- 0
