**Just giving everyone a heads up, this chapter deals with some sensitive themes.**

“There’s enough goods in this caravan, some acquired honestly but most not, to make every man here wealthy for quite a while,” he said.

My eyes flicked over to the orc sitting so strangely still in his cage. Though much of his body was concealed in shadow, I could still see his massive feet and hands between the bars. Now and then a jumping flame would cause his red eyes to shimmer in the darkness –the only part of his face currently visible other than his tusks. I suspected he was not acquired by “honest means” either.

“You’ll fetch a decent amount of coin at market, miss,” the boy spoke as though he were saying something helpful. Tact was not his strong suit, it seemed. “But finding you was just a surprising bonus to the riches they’ll already be making, I’m afraid.”

I understood suddenly why he was here. Like the other men, this boy saw me as nothing more than merchandise, he was just more diplomatic about it. Honestly it didn’t make sense to me why I’d even be valuable at all. Was this world experiencing such a lack of 30-something, slightly chubby, bank tellers that people were inclined to kidnap them? Then again, if the rest of the people of this world were as shabby in appearance as these ruffians, maybe there was something to be said for a girl who had a full set of teeth.

“Boy! Stop talking to the merchandise and get back over here! We got more work for ya!” The Captain bellowed with slurred words while waving his flask in the air.

“I better get going, miss…” the boy said as he hoisted himself from the ground.

I only nodded in reply, staring at the last biscuit in my hand; I no longer felt like talking to him or anyone else in the camp. Much to my annoyance the boy hesitated to walk away. I glared up at him, but his nervous expression had morphed into one of grave concern. He leaned forward and said in a low hush:

“I should let you know that the Captain likes to drink, miss. And the more he drinks the less… erm…” he worried his lip for a moment, and glanced over his shoulder briefly. “…The less respectful he gets of females, if you know what I mean?”

I gulped back a large lump in my throat, and looked around the boy over at the Captain. He already seemed pretty intoxicated.

“I-I’m afraid I do,” I stammered.

“I’ve seen him do it before…” The boy’s eyes locked onto mine.

“BOY!” The Captain called again. “You deaf?! I said c’mere! We have need of ya!” His speech bordered on unintelligible, now.

“Take care, miss…” The boy said and turned on his heel to walk away.

I watched as he shuffled towards the campfire and the surrounding men. The elf started shoving plates at him, presumably to wipe clean, and pointing at various tasks he intended him to do. I could not hear what he was saying, but I could see his lips moving. The translation spell the elf put on me was truly remarkable, for although the movements the elf’s mouth made resembled nothing like the words of my native English tongue, I could still interpret some of them: WATER… CLEAN… STUPID… HURRY… BOY…

They always called him “boy,” it seemed, like he had no other name. But then again I didn’t know his name either, it had never even occurred to me to ask. I felt a little ashamed at that. Despite lacking somewhat in tact, this “boy” was more man than all of these disgusting mercenaries combined.

Nibbling on the last crumb of hard biscuit I closed my eyes, and silently thanked him for his small acts of altruism. My eyes popped open when I felt someone watching me. Immediately my gaze landed on the Captain who was looking at me intently over his tilted flask. Unease rioted in the pit of my gut, and I realized the boy’s words were more than just an idle warning.

Panic flared white hot in my chest, and I felt my breathing grow heavy. Nausea churned in my stomach, and my heart beat wildly. For a moment I hoped that maybe, just maybe, I was nearing the end of another episode, as the symptoms were so similar. I prayed that I would wake up in my bed next to my romance novels, posters and comics sweating and panting, but no worse for wear. Then, no matter what time it was, I’d call my mother and ask her to drive me to the hospital, as these deliriums had gone far enough.

But as this forested world stayed perfectly still around me, not fading back into the white walls of my modern apartment, I knew with miserable clarity that this was all real. I was really chained to a wagon, covered in bruises and cuts. There really were men with cruel intent surrounding me. What I was feeling now was not another episode, but just plain old, gut-twisting, but perfectly reasonable, anxiety.

I tried to keep watch on the Captain while not making it clear that I was doing so. I looked at him only in brief glances, or out of the corner of my eye while pretending to occupy myself with a pebble on the ground, or the hem of my pajama pants.

Will he unchain me from the wagon and drag me off into the woods? Or will he just violate me in front of all these men? I thought, as he paced around the campsite. He seemed to be busying himself with tending to the horses, and instructing the men on nightly duties, but his eyes never lingered very far from me. Nor mine on him.

Could I bash one of these nearby stones on the chain to break it? I wondered. Not without drawing attention to myself.

Maybe I could wriggle my hands free from these ropes, or try to nibble on them until they shredded? At least I’d have free hands to try to fight him off, I suggested. But I’d been trying both all day to no avail.

I laid my head back against the wagon wheel behind me throbbing from hunger, exhaustion, lack of sleep and a full 24 hours without coffee. Was there anything I could do? Should I kick and scream? Make whatever he intended to do to me as inconvenient and uncomfortable as possible? Or would I realize that fighting only made it worse, and I’d just lay there as he took what he wanted, praying for it to end soon? Would my own natural weakness and cowardice win out in the end?

About the only way to keep a man like him from taking what he wanted, was to make him not want it at all. Although I thought myself just above average in the looks department, I probably looked very appealing to a man who’d been traveling, unaccompanied by women, for quite some time. Turning him off, especially when under the influence of whatever was in that flask, would be no easy task.

I stared at my dirty feet as if they held some answers for me, and picked at a bit of dried blood from a small cut on my toe. Blood in reality was nothing like the movies I liked to watch –drippy horror in vivid Technicolor starring Vincent Price, or Christopher Lee. If I wasn’t aware of this fact before today, I was definitely aware of it, now.

When we were together Bill used to play a number of graphic video games, filled with hours of theatrical violence. Shooting off the heads of rampant zombies, as blood splattered dramatically (and unrealistically) in fountains across the TV screen had little effect on him. Despite his personal interests, however, Bill had a sensitive nature and I remembered him nearly vomiting at the sight of a surprise visitor’s evidence on our sheets one morning, as I rolled over.

I looked up from my feet as an idea stormed in my mind. There was one thing I knew of that made a lot of men visibly uncomfortable. Not all, but many. There was a good chance it would not work on someone like the Captain, considering that hygiene was not exactly a priority to him, but it was worth trying.

I was bleeding from a number of cuts all over, but most notably my right knee. I had fallen on it earlier, and sliced it open. It had sealed up just before we made camp, but sitting with my legs bent had caused it to open again. Blood was slowly seeping through my pajama pants. Making sure that no one was looking I rolled up my pants leg and started dabbing bits of the blood on my fingertips, and putting it right where I needed it –between my legs. The Captain seemed to have meandered off for the time being, presumably to relieve himself, and no one else was paying attention to me, so it gave me license to continue.

At one point the cut started to seal again so I reached for a small sharp rock near me. It was not sharp enough to cut my ropes loose, but sharp enough to deepen the cut on my knee. I clamped my mouth shut against the cry of pain that its jagged edge caused. But it did the trick, blood pooled even faster and I had enough to make the ‘V’ of my thighs look saturated. Then quickly I wiped the blood off on some nearby grass and under the hem of my shirt, just before the Captain circled back around the campsite towards me. Perhaps I wasn’t brave, but at least I was smart.

I sat there on the dewy ground, trying to remain calm as he approached me.

Stay strong… Don’t let him see your fear… I told myself, and held my arms close to my chest as much for warmth, as to keep them from trembling.

“You look a bit cold, dearie…” the Captain’s words dripped like grease from the corners of his mouth. His same partially-toothed grin crawling across his lips. “Perhaps you’d like a man to warm you tonight.”

“Sure,” I muttered. “You know any?”

The Captain’s brow furrowed for a moment, but his snort of displeasure soon turned into laughter.

“You’re pretty funny, wench,” he chuckled. “I’m sure there are some masters that would appreciate a sense of humor in a woman…”

I turned my head away so he wouldn’t see my eyes rolling at that statement.

“Others not so much. They prefer a more docile woman, lazy bastards, but some would like the challenge of breaking it out of you…” The Captain muttered as he squat in front of me, so drunk that he nearly fell over in the process. He leaned in closer, and tucked a lock of my hair behind my ear. I turned my head just as he tried to lock my lips into a kiss. Instead he just started placing kisses along my neck. Nearly gagging from the horrid stench of his breath and accompanied body odor, I pushed him away with my bound hands.

“Mmm… still so feisty…” he clucked. He grabbed hold of my wrists with one hand. “Thought a day in chains would have cooled you off a bit. But no matter… I like a little fight in a woman…” This time he did kiss me. I cried out against his lips, trying to shove him off of me, all the while holding my breath against his putrid stench. Finally he did pull away and I gasped for air through my mouth.

The Captain looked into my eyes again –his were blood shot and heavy lidded. They reminded me of a man I’d seen at a party once. A guy who’d spent the evening staring at me from across the room, but never making a move to speak to me, as if waiting for me to be alone for more than five minutes. It was the first time I really understood the phrase “undressing someone with your eyes.” Here in the middle of the forest, in some strange land, a scene far removed from that raucous, Smirnoff-scented party this man was looking at me the same way. I felt my flesh crawl beneath his ravenous gaze.

“Like I said before, taming you would be a great pleasure, dearie,” the Captain said fondling my breasts. I tried to move away, but backed against the wheel of the wagon I had nowhere to go. “Perhaps I’ll have time to give you one good lesson in respect before I sell you off. I’m sure your new master will appreciate it.”

His hand moved down my chest, my abdomen, and finally just above my crotch.

“I’m not so sure you want to do that,” I said.

“I’ll tell you what I do or do not want to do, wench!” He spat in my ear, as his hand moved between my legs.

“I’m on my period,” I mumbled through gritted teeth.

“Your what?” He asked, his hand froze.

“My monthly flow, jack-ass,” I said.

He pulled away and scowled at me.

“I don’t believe you…” he replied.

I spread my legs wide open, and his frown deepened as he saw the obvious blood stain there. I had to say I did a pretty good job of making it look organic.

“Hmph,” he grunted, and feigned a smirk. “How do I know you didn’t just cut yourself to make it look like your… your uh…” He couldn’t even say it.

“My period?” I finished for him.

He gave me a look of disgust, and I knew I had him.

“Yes… that.”

“Do you really want to look down there and find out? It’s like a murder scene there, buddy,” I stated. “And it’s the first day, so believe me it’s just going to keep flowing. Before long I’ll be gush-.”

“Enough!” He barked. “I get the point, just stop talking about it!” I couldn’t help but flash him a triumphant grin, as he stood up.

“I never much cared for handling a woman during her monthlies, but there are plenty of men who don’t mind. And if you’re not over it by the time we get to market, you may find that your new master is one of them!” Then he turned on his heel, and stomped back to the camp.

Once he was out of sight, I laid my head back against the wagon wheel and let out a sigh of relief. For one night I was safe… from the Captain at least.

Rolled high on my bluff check, tonight, I thought.