**Please do not read if you are of a sensitive disposition, there's nothing too graphic here but violence is portrayed at some level and some might not like that.**
The smell of manure fills the air and nearby, the frantic neighing of a horse can be heard.
Vardarianna lays face down in hay. She groans, trying to move her arms but they are tied so that they are behind her back and her feet have also been bound.
‘Shut that damn horse up… Make it quiet!’ A man shouts, his voice is deep and commanding, he sounds angry and also drunk, his words are slightly slurred.
‘It doesn’t like it’s new friend…’ Comes a female voice, she chuckles.
‘Ah… The girl eh?’ He questions.
Loud footsteps issue from somewhere behind the maiden, she hears the sound of metal upon wood and then a creaking sound as poorly oiled axles rub against one another.
‘That girl! Are you so drunk that you can’t remember?’ The girl almost shouts, amused.
Not too far away men laugh loudly and roudily.
‘Well.. Yes in fact!’ He laughs. Then heavy footsteps can be heard again, the hay beneath those feet crunch loudly as someone approaches the maiden.
Alarmed and very scared, that she should be further harmed, Vardarianna struggles within her bindings.
‘A bit of a sharp blade this one… We’ve kicked at her till the cows come home but she still be living…’ The man muses. The footsteps stop and Vardarianna knows, with a sinking feeling in her stomach, that the man is directly behind her.
‘I like this one,’ Another male voice, ‘We should keep her alive, she’d see things our way eventually, maybe I could even take her as a wife…’ He laughs, they all laugh, even the men in the near distance.
‘Come now Grass, ye know what happened the last ye tried to befriend this one.’ Another voice…
More spectators, Vardarianna thinks, angrily.
‘This one is for the boss, to be killing when the time is right… You can give her another kick for that cut in yer cheek though, I’m sure he won’t begrudge yer that…’ The man continues. Then footsteps can be heard once more, one set getting quieter and another set getting louder, moving toward her.
Vardarianna stuggles, her body aches, the smell of manure with her own blood sickens her. Her empty stomach recoils, though she manages to stop herself from being sick, not wishing to add any other smells to the pot-so to speak.
With a sob, she closes her eyes and she bites her lip, awaiting another blow.
Time seems to stretch out as she awaits the hard kick of a boot upon herself. These men are cruel and unrelenting and no saviour had come to her aid… She sobs again, she had never faced death before, how strange that in knowing she would die, meaningful thoughts seem not to come to her…
I should think about losing my friends, I should think about the things that I will miss. She reprimands herself.
Yet the only thoughts that come to her are of the immense pain that she feels. Her whole world is pain, nothing but pain, self doubt and nauseating smells.
