We set up camp at sunset, which involves him foraging for branches, starting a fire, removing my backpack and laying out his sleeping pouch, all while I just stand there with my arms tied.

He lets me drink from the water skin, then anchors the end of my rope to a tree.

He munches down on the same dried meat over the fire. Wiggling my hands confirms my suspicions from this morning. My bounds aren’t as tight, probably to allow my wounds to heal. I could stretch my arms under myself if the rope wasn’t also wrapped around my middle. If he takes it off for me to sleep, I may be able to slip away.

“Can you untie the rope from my waist? My tied wrists will still prevent me from escaping."

He moves in, standing uncomfortably close. I step back, but he pinches a lock of my hair, not rough enough to hurt, but enough to hold me in place. “Escape is on your mind?” he says, his hand just inches from my face.

My stomach curls up. “N-no,” I stutter, “I just- I just- You said last time-”

“Need I explain the punishment for trying to flee?”

My gaze falls to his feet. “I just want it off so I can sleep.”

"You didn't protest about it last night."

"I was afraid that you'd throw me to the wolves." It's half true. I was in such a state that I wasn't paying attention to my body’s discomfort.

He finally moves his hand away from my face, and I let out a sigh of relief. He unties the waist rope and returns to the fire.

I sit opposite him to avoid arousing suspicion. I lay down, facing away as to not give away anything with my expression. As soon as he’s asleep, I’ll make my move.

* * * * * * * *

An hour passes, and my insides are bubbling. I turn to face him, careful not to make a sound.

The back of his head is only just visible from his pouch. Is he asleep yet? Should I whisper to check? No. Don’t chance it.

The fire dies down, and the cold night air creeps in. My stomach is doing backflips. He kills humans for sport. I don’t want to imagine what he’d do to a prisoner caught escaping.

The minutes tick by. I have to do something. If I keep wasting time, it'll be morning, and we'll continue traveling. If we reach a vampire city, he won't need me anymore. He'll kill me just like the others. Tomorrow night may be too late. I have to do this, and I have to do it now.

I curl up my knees to my chest and force my bound hands under my butt. My torso squeezes as small as possible as my hands push further and further. The rope is looser than before, and the bandages protect my cut wrists from the pressure.

Air is forced out of my lungs as my hands push over the last few inches. I suck in a deep breath the second they’re passed the threshold. I thread each leg under my arms and bring my hands up to my face. There's no going back now.

Maneuvering myself is trivial now that my arms are in front. I bite and pull at the rope binding my wrists, coating my tongue with the taste of dry grass. The adrenaline is making me shake.

Finally, the rope loosens, and I shake it off my bandaged wrists.

There's nothing hindering me now. I just need to sneak away. I take off my shoes and carry them. Going bare foot will be quieter. My bare feet will feel for twigs and dry leaves, making sure it’s safe to take a step.

I rise to my feet and scan the horizon. We're in an open field with a few scattered trees. He'll be able to see me a mile away. Was this a mistake? My eyes land back on the rope, then on his sleeping figure. It’s impossible to retie my own wrists. The only way is forward.

I take a step, toe first to check for any twigs in the long grass, then another, and another. Step after step. I don't look back.

My pace quickens as I get into the rhythm. Soon I'm far enough away to safely put on my shoes. I slip them on my feet and start running.

"Human!" There’s a blood-chilling screech behind me, and my face goes pale.

Run. I don't look back. My legs move as fast as they can carry me. The cold night air rushes over my skin like a gale-force wind.

My lungs are burning. My overworked legs struggle not to slip on the dirt. Footsteps are gaining on me.

I’m struck on the head and go tumbling to the ground. The dirt and grit scrape up my arms, and a searing pain radiates through my skull.

I push myself up onto all fours, but a hard boot kicks me in the side, sending me back down. I scream as the iron-toed boot hits my abdomen a second time. My body curls inwards to protect my vulnerable stomach, but it does little to stop his onslaught.

"You swine!" he shouts over me.

I cry out again as he kicks my middle. The burning pain makes me wail. My fingers claw at the dirt to try drag myself away. Stop! Stop! Stop! Another kick in the same spot, making the burning even worse. “Pea-” I try beg but my mouth can’t form words. It’s like a knife is twisting inside me. My muscles stress and kick and flail to make it stop. He kicks again, and fire runs from the impact to my core.

He finally relents, but the pain lingers. I can’t breathe.

"You expected to flee!?" His eyes burn with hate.

I shut my eyes and suck in a breath despite my burning diaphragm. My arms are yanked above my head, making my aching muscles scream. No more. Please no more.

My whole body is pulled upright by the arms. Every movement brings a new wave of agony. My vision is blurry from tears. Dirt covers my stinging arms, and my back fights to stay curled to minimize the burning in my middle.

I’m placed on his lap, and my body cries out from the movement. His arms snake around my bruising torso. His heavy breath pours over the back of my neck. Iron arms compress my middle, making me scream again. He relieves the pressure, and my screaming turns to sobbing.

My back is pressed against his stone chest. I try push away, but he grabs both my arms and holds them down.

No more. No more. He has to stop. I struggle against him, but he compresses my hands in his, and I cry out again. It’s like they’re being crushed between stones. My body curls into itself, and he releases the pressure after my tearful surrender.

His thumbs creep up the back of my hand, and his fingers clamp around mine.

"These fingers," he whispers into my ear, making my blood run cold, "they are mischievous, removing your bounds.”

My breath sticks in my throat.

"They have no use to me, just a nuisance really."

My heart drops into my stomach. He puts his thumbs at the base of my fingers and pushes my digits backwards.

The pain runs up my arms and into my core, and I let out a terrible cry. They’re right on the edge. If he pushes any further, they'll break. I cry and wail from both the pain and the reality of losing my hands.

He stops pushing and lets my fingers sit straight again. The pain disappears, but he keeps his grip on them.

I'm sobbing aloud. Everything hurts, and he’s going to break my hands. The world is obscured by tears. I don't move a muscle, sitting as still as I can other than my uncontrollable trembling.

I'm at his mercy, and he wants me to suffer. I don't know what to do. My voice can only stutter, unable to string words together. His hands stay locked around mine. I don't resist. I don't push against him in anyway, terrified to anger him further.

Tears fall on my hands and his. He's silent, and the night is quiet except for my sobbing. We’re alone here. There's not a soul for miles - no one to save me.

He caresses my fingers with his thumb, and I let out a whimper. He lets go of my hands, as if it was in response to my fear.

My arms lie limp, paralyzed from shock. He engulfs my small frame.

"Will you flee again?" he whispers from behind.

"No." I shake my head.

He pushes me off him, and I groan from the movement. He rises to his feet and pulls me up by the arm. My legs don’t work on the first try, and his hand stays clamped, resting all my weight on my shoulder.

He marches back to the smoldering fire. I force my legs to listen and gain back my footing, relieving the tension on my shoulder.

My muscles can barely push me forward without aggravating the pain in my abdomen. I stumble again and again, but the vampire doesn’t slow down, and his rigid grip keeps me upright.

He pushes down on my shoulder once we reach the fire, and I take the hint to sit. Rubbing the dirt off my arms reveals shallows scratches with trace amounts of blood.

He picks up the rope. My neck strains trying to meet his gaze, so I stare at his knees instead.

"How did you free yourself?" he asks.

My arms wrap around my aching stomach. "I-I slipped my hands in front and b-bit the rope," I say, barely above a whisper.

"Are you trying to deceive me?"

"No, no-" I stutter, and another wave a panic follows. I'm not lying, and he's going to beat me further because he doesn't believe me. I feel so utterly powerless. He caught up to me in seconds. His arms are like iron. He's beyond human. I tuck in my head and curl into myself to prepare for the next wave of kicks.

A yelp escapes me as he yanks my arms behind my back and clamps them together with one hand. He ties each wrist to the opposite elbow, giving me absolutely no movement at all.

The rope is extended down and looped around my bare middle. He pulls it tight, pinching my skin, and connects the other end to a high branch.

My arms can’t move an inch. They're folded behind my back.

His footsteps return to his side of the smoldering fire. I blink until my vision is clear. Breathing a deep breath makes me wince from the pain. The cut edge of my shirt stops half-way over the spot where he repeatedly kicked me.

Shrugging my shoulders up reveals more of my reddening skin. The pain flares up from any exertion on my diaphragm. It emanates from the spot just below my ribs. That’s something to be thankful for, that my bones aren’t broken.

My eyes wander back to him. He’s back in his sleeping pouch, though is probably still listening.

I’m sitting up, but my tied arms can’t provide support to help me down. If my body wasn’t in such pain, I’d just let myself fall over.

I lean back, as if I was doing the second half of a sit up, but a sharp pain in my core muscles makes my back shoot up again.

Leaning forward, I let my head hit the ground first, providing a column of support as I lay my aching body sideways. I’m down but have no hope of getting back up in the morning.

My eyes close, and I try get some rest. Hopefully the pain will have subsided tomorrow. I vow that if I’m ever in a position of power, I will never inflict pain for the sake of it.

The cold air creeps in, making me miss the bottom third of my shirt.

* * * * * * * *

It's morning, and the vampire has woken up. The combination of cold, pain and tight bonds kept me awake. Though I am feeling better. Just letting my muscles rest did wonders for my soreness, even if they were tied an awkward position. My arms are out of view, but the lack of stinging and slight itching suggests that the scratches are healing.

I’m lying flat against the ground, and the rope makes sitting up impossible. Just lifting my head is more than my neck can bare right now.

"Mr Vampire?" I call with my face against the ground.

“Human?” His eyes are drawn to me. Being so low makes him appear enormous.

"Can you help me up, please?" He may still be ticked off, so I opt to be polite. I'm hoping he'll just get the blood meal over with so I can have water.

He lifts me up, and I cross my legs to avoid falling over. To my surprise, he pulls out an apple. Withholding food as punishment didn’t seem like a stretch, but I suppose it’s more advantageous to him to have a strong mule.

I keep my eyes on him as I take bites, still unsure.

He makes no sudden moves, looking exactly as he did when feeding me the first time. From his expression, it doesn’t appear that he holds any new animosity towards me.

After breakfast, he secures his arms around me and has his drink. It still hurts, but I've learned that staying still makes it easier.

He gives me water, then the bag is secured on my shoulders, and we march again.

The spot on my middle has morphed into a big purple bruise. Anyone looking would know that this vampire is a violent man. Though the aching has gone down enough for me to walk with minimal discomfort. He must’ve known precisely where to strike to maximize pain without hindering my ability to walk.

My gaze lands back on him.

"We’ve been walking together for almost four days, but I still don't know your name," I say.

“As I said before, call me Master.” He grins.

“I’m serious.” I can’t imagine how sharing his name could be detrimental to his cause.

"I am Lord Ralan."

"Well, Lord Ralan, I'd shake your hand but-"

"Not Ralan," he interrupts, "Surely you humans are not that dense? Rah-lan."

“It’s not from my language, and at least I care to learn your name, something you couldn’t be bothered to do for me. You don’t have to be so rude.”

“You know, Julia, usually slaves try win their master’s favor, but you seem intent on losing it.”

I stop for a second. He was listening.

We travel the rest of the day in silence. I refrain from asking any more questions. While the bruising on my stomach looks bad, I haven’t had trouble keeping food and water down. My body is recovering, and there are no signs of life-threatening complications.

At the end of the day, we stop at the top of a hill, and he removes the bag from my back. The sun is down, and it's cold. I don't expect to get much sleep tonight either.

I spot a small settlement in the distance, and my heart stops. It's less than a day's walk away.

"Is that where we're going?" I blurt out.

“You ask many questions,” he sighs.

Sparks fly off the flint as he strikes it over the kindling. I’m pretty sure I already know the answer anyway.

He lays out his sleeping pouch, and I huddle up in a little nook in the rocks. It's freezing.

There’s a sinking feeling in my stomach. He slaughtered Neil and his friends without hesitating, and he won’t need my blood after we reach the trade post.

"Lord Rahlan," I begin, "can I ask just one question?"

There's a long pause, but he finally answers. "One question."

I take in a breath to keep my voice steady. "When we reach the trade post tomorrow, am I going to die?"

He meets my gaze, not answering immediately, like he’s thinking it through.

"No."

Relief washes over me, and I can breathe again. A heavy load has been lifted off my shoulders, but the weight comes back a second later. "Then what are you going to do with me?"

He doesn’t look up from the fire. Right - one question.

Did he even tell the truth? Maybe he's just lying to keep me docile. The thought of escaping crosses my mind again, but I quickly swat it away. I've no chance of sneaking away after last night.

I shut my eyes and try focus on pleasant thoughts, like Jacob. I wonder if he’s made it to Faria yet? He’s an experienced traveler. I bet he’s already picked out our new home. It could be a castle. He’s always wanted to live in one, ever since we were children.