As he rounded the alcove, his eyes widened in alarm. There, just beyond the edge of their campsite, figures, six in total, clad in unfamiliar garb wrestled with someone he recognized instantly as Aili. His hands clenched into fists, his mind racing with a mix of fear and determination.
The men, their faces weathered by the elements and clad in the rugged attire of forest rangers, surrounded Aili with rough hands and mocking words. Their laughter echoed through the small clearing, mingling with the rustling of leaves overhead. Each gesture seemed to emphasize their strength and her vulnerability, as if she were a practice dummy brought freshly to the training grounds.
Their words were sharp and cutting, their movements swift and practiced. Aili's struggles were met with firm restraint, each attempt to break free only serving to amuse them further. The forest around them stood silent witness, its ancient trees casting long shadows that danced with the flickering light filtering through the canopy.
Bruem, hidden in the shadows of the alcove, clenched his fists in helpless fury. His heart pounded with a mixture of fear for Aili's safety and a burning desire to intervene. Every fiber of his being urged him to rush to her aid, yet he knew the perilous risks of confronting these seasoned rangers alone.
"Let go, you scoundrels!" cried Aili, her voice resonating with a fierce resolve that pierced through the coarse laughter of the ruffianly men. Though her words trembled, revealing an undercurrent of fear, her spirit shone brighter than the shadows cast by her captors.
Her wrist was firmly ensnared in the calloused grip of one man, his fingers like iron bands as she strained against his hold. He sneered with lewd and inappropriate comments, each word a jab that elicited both disgust and defiance from Aili, who gritted her teeth in frustration as she sent a sharp kick to his shin. The forest seemed to hold its breath, the rustling of leaves and the distant calls of woodland creatures providing a stark contrast to the tension and aggression in the clearing as the man let out an 'oof!' in strained pain.
Around them, the other men laughed uproariously, their voices rough and echoing through the trees. They tossed Aili between them like a rag doll, their rough hands leaving bruises and their mockery stinging like nettles. She stumbled with each rough exchange, her determination flaring amidst the haze of fear and indignation.
"Where's your sweetheart, then?" one of them sneered, his voice laced with disdain.
"He's not coming to save you, now, is he?" another mocked, his tone dripping with scorn.
Amidst the men's laughter, Aili seized the dagger from the man's sheath, swinging it with fierce determination. She grunted loudly with effort, aiming to inflict harm, but his hand swiftly intercepted, clamping down on her wrist with painful intensity. Aili's cry of pain mingled with frustration echoed through the clearing as she involuntarily released the dagger, its metal clattering loudly against the ground.
Thrown roughly to the ground, Aili cried out, her body curling instinctively into a protective ball as they encircled her. Their laughter echoed harshly through the clearing as they closed in, delivering savage kicks to her sides, stomach, and back with boots hardened by the rigors of the wild. Each blow landed with a sickening thud, driving the breath from her lungs and leaving her gasping for air. She gritted her teeth against the pain, the taste of earth and blood mingling on her tongue. Their kicks were relentless, each impact sending shockwaves of agony through her body.
The forest seemed to whisper in sympathy, leaves trembling in the breeze as if bearing witness to the brutality unfolding beneath the canopy. Aili's grunts and groans merged with the sounds of the forest, a symphony of suffering and defiance.
Unable to bear witnessing her suffering any longer, Bruem unsheathed his sword and emerged from his concealment. "Step away from her!" he shouted with fierce resolve, his words ringing out with determination and righteous anger.
The men glanced towards him, their laughter a harsh echo in the clearing as Bruem stepped forward. With a contemptuous chuckle, one among them, presumably their leader, seized her by the hair and yanked her upright. Aili winced, clutching at his hand as pain flashed across her face before he pulled her forward with him, her feet stumbling. Suddenly, he callously tossed her aside. She landed with a heavy thud, coughing and gasping for breath, her hand pressed against her tender abdomen as she struggled to crawl away.
"You must be the boyfriend, eh?" the man sneered, malice dripping from his words as he drew his sword from its sheath. "You'll prove entertaining..."
A grave expression settled on Bruem's face, his sword held steady and upright. His gaze briefly flickered to where Aili had sought refuge under a fallen tree, a mixture of concern and determination in his eyes. As the other men watched, their anticipation palpable, Bruem met the taunting remark with stoic silence, his unyielding response refusing to confirm the man's provocation.
"Your little girlfriend is weak. I wonder where she gets that from, hmm? You?" the man taunted, his tone thick with disdain. "Wonder what kinda things you've been doing during the night to cause that..."
Bruem clenched his jaw, struggling to contain his anger at the man's disrespectful words and the cruelty inflicted upon Aili. His gaze flickered towards where she had sought refuge, a mix of concern and resolve in his eyes. The insults fueled a fire within him. At the comment, Bruem bellowed with fury, surging forward to confront the man. Swiftly sidestepping, the adversary slashed at Bruem's arm, drawing blood. Bruem gritted his teeth against the pain, clutching his wounded limb, but swiftly regained his composure. Meeting the man's next attack head-on, their swords clashed in a furious exchange, sparks flying as they battled with fierce determination.
As Aili cowered in hiding, her heart raced at the approaching footsteps. "There you are!" one of the men's voices rang out. His grip tightened around her ankle, dragging her forcibly into the open. "Come here! You're not escaping me!"
Pinning her down with his forearm, he drew a dagger with malicious intent. Summoning her courage, Aili lifted her hands to stop him as he forced it towards her neck. Aili audibly strained, both hers and the man's arms trembling slightly with effort. With the dagger merely half an inch from her, Aili's eyes widened in confusion as the man grunted from a wet thwack as an arrow found its mark in his shoulder, then his chest when he stood up. He quickly collapsed and became motionless, his dagger clattering to the ground.
Aili sat up in bewilderment, quickly scrambling away to evade the sudden onslaught of arrows that descended upon them.
Bruem and the man continued their fierce duel until both warriors sought cover. The adversary darted behind a tree, but a sudden cry of agony echoed through the air, followed by the heavy thud of a body hitting the ground. Bruem, sword raised defensively, tensed for another attack. However, he soon exhaled with relief upon seeing his commander emerge, alive and mostly unharmed, alongside their companions—though one was conspicuously absent.
"Where's Taeth?" Bruem asked, his voice tight with concern and a trace of dread.
His commander's visage turned somber, a grim silence following Bruem's question about Taeth's whereabouts. Caynnan and his companion hastened down the slope, their hurried footsteps echoing through the woodland. With rough urgency, they grasped Aili by the arms, helping her rise from the ground where she had endured the brutal onslaught.
Aili winced visibly, her breath catching as she gingerly touched her tenderized midsection, each movement eliciting a sharp pang of pain. In her weary state, she might have felt like a tenderized cut of meat, vulnerable and bruised from the ordeal.
Bruem's gaze met his commander's with unspoken understanding, a heavy sadness weighing upon his brow and coloring his every gesture. The loss of Taeth hung palpably in the air, casting a shadow over their small band as they stood together amidst the quiet of the forest, grappling with the harsh reality of their situation.
Caynnan struck her arm roughly. "He's dead because the prisoner decided to run off on her own! And where are your bindings?" With forceful hands, he seized both of her wrists, yanking them together as he swiftly produced a length of rope. With practiced efficiency, he tightly bound her wrists, ensuring she was securely restrained.
You must've seen Caynnan's aversion towards Aili had grown like a shadow creeping over a once-clear sky, darkening with each day spent journeying through the Treacherous Lands. His heart, weathered by years of battle and distrust, held no warmth for her, nor for anyone who crossed his path. Quick to anger and slow to forgive, Caynnan harbored a simmering resentment that flared at the slightest provocation, whether from friend or foe.
Bruem, steadfast and loyal, endeavored to temper Caynnan's fiery outbursts, his words a soothing balm against the jagged edges of his comrade's ire. Yet Bruem's efforts often met resistance, for Caynnan, as the higher in rank, wielded authority with an iron grip. Their disagreements sometimes erupted into heated arguments or even physical altercations, straining the fragile bonds of their fellowship.
Aili, astute and cautious, swiftly discerned the volatile dynamic among them. She trod carefully through their company, mindful of Caynnan's sharp edges hidden beneath his stoic exterior. Her own resolve, forged through trials known only to her, matched their steel in the face of adversity. Though she yearned for at least some camaraderie amidst their shared perils, she recognized the barriers Caynnan had erected.
In the desolate expanse of the Treacherous Lands, where the very air whispered tales of ancient grievances and unspoken fears, their trio moved like shadows among shifting sands and forbidding cliffs. Each step forward led them deeper into uncertainty, where alliances strained against unspoken grievances and unyielding pride. Thus, amid the stark beauty of a land forsaken by time, their destinies intertwined in a dance of discord and determination, where the distinction between friend and foe blurred like mist in the early morning sun.
There is still hope for Caynnan to change his ways yet, but it may come too late, assuming he is stubborn until the very end. You may keep an eye on him for me, if you will, throughout this journey. Keep him in your mind, and think back on him every now and again.
"Let us press onward before more fell creatures or men of dark intent find our trail," the commander intoned, his voice laden with the weariness of many leagues and many trials.
Bruem fell into step beside him, the air heavy with his unspoken worry. "Commander Elro, what fate awaits Aili?"
After a moment's pause, the commander turned his gaze to Bruem, his eyes reflecting the somber light of the moon. "Private, you have done well to safeguard her in our absence. That is the duty entrusted to us. Whether she remains unscathed upon our arrival at the outpost lies beyond our reach and our mandate."
"Should it be so?" Bruem glanced back at the girl, seeing Caynnan drag her harshly by the wrists, causing her to stumble. "Sir, she could be grievously injured. She was struck multiple times by those men's boots. Would it be so arduous a task to ensure she is at least well enough to endure until we reach the outpost?"
Sighing, Commander Elro replied, "Do what you must, but we shall have to wait until we find shelter for the night. I am not even certain we have any supplies left after last night."
"Why? What befell you last night?"
After a pause, Elro responded, "You would not believe me if I told you."
The silence lengthened as they pressed on through the desolate forest. After a long moment of gazing back at Aili, Bruem finally spoke, "What fate awaits Aili at the outpost?"
Silence enveloped the company as they forged ahead through the perilous terrain. The ancient trees loomed like sentinels, their gnarled branches reaching out as if to grasp the fading light. Bruem, his brow furrowed with concern, persisted in questioning the commander as they trudged onward, the weight of their journey etched upon their weary faces.
As the sun began its descent, casting a golden hue upon the rugged landscape, shadows lengthened and stretched across their path. Commander Elro, his voice weary and subdued from hours of contemplation and hardship, finally relented.
"I'm not fully certain, Private. I have visited there only a few times. My memories are faded," Commander Elro admitted, his voice tinged with weariness. "It is, I believe, a place of toil and hardship. I fear she will not find gentleness awaiting her."
Commander Elro's voice carried a grave undertone, tinged with a flicker of pity as he contemplated Aili's impending fate. Bruem's countenance darkened, his features reflecting a deepening somberness. Despite their brief acquaintance, he had developed a genuine fondness for Aili's presence amidst the trials of their journey. The thought of her facing the hardships of a labor camp stirred a profound unease within him, especially considering the ordeals she had already endured in their perilous trek through unknown lands.
As the day wore on, Aili's condition worsened, her breath labored and marked by signs of pain. While the rest of their party set about preparing a fire and gathering provisions, Bruem guided Aili to a secluded spot on the sloping terrain they now traversed. Though still within the forest's embrace, the landscape had begun its ascent into rugged, mountainous terrain reminiscent of the distant Mountains of Tol Uinin—jagged, rough, and treacherous to traverse.
Carefully settling Aili into a comfortable sitting position, Bruem retrieved what few medical supplies remained in his pack. Aili's breathing was strained and shaky, a testament to the agony she endured that morning.
"In this dim light, I'll need a small kindling," Bruem remarked, igniting the kindling gently. "But to assess your potential wounds properly, I must examine your midsection and back, away from the others' gaze."
Aili nodded gratefully, appreciative of Bruem's consideration for her privacy. Holding the kindling steady for her, Bruem patiently waited as she removed her armor and untied and loosened the dark vest she wore, wincing with each careful movement. With a sigh of relief, she set it aside.
Positioning the kindling to cast a warm glow, Bruem lifted the hem of her tunic, examining her midsection with a furrowed brow. His gaze fell upon a myriad of bruises and small cuts, prompting a sympathetic click of his tongue. Retrieving a rag and pouring alcohol onto it, he tenderly cleansed the wounds, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from Aili.
"Forgive me," he murmured softly, his touch gentle as he dabbed at the wounds, ensuring their cleanliness.
Taking the small jar of soothing ointment, Bruem continued to apply it with careful strokes, his touch tender and precise. As he moved to assess the area near her lower right rib, he noticed a deepening bruise, its color darker and spreading wider than the others scattered across her skin. Aili winced audibly when his fingertips grazed the tender spot, her sharp intake of breath revealing the extent of her pain. It was evident that the area was exceptionally sensitive, each touch causing her discomfort despite Bruem's gentle ministrations.
"This feels amiss, out of its proper place. I fear a rib may be fractured," Bruem voiced with concern, his words measured and filled with worry.
"It does, believe me," Aili murmured softly, her voice filled with a mixture of discomfort and resignation.
"I'll bind it up, but first I must inspect your back," Bruem stated calmly, his voice tinged with resolve.
"Do what you must..." Aili replied wearily, her voice reflecting both trust and fatigue.
With utmost care, Bruem guided Aili to turn so her back faced him, the cool evening air brushing against her exposed skin as she sat slightly leaning forward. Lifting her tunic gently, he furrowed his brow at the sight before him.
"You'll need to remove this," he murmured with a note of regret in his voice. "It's the only way I can ensure every wound is tended to properly."
Aili sighed softly, her reluctance evident. Bruem reassured her, his gaze earnest. "I promise I will only examine your back. Nothing more," he assured her tenderly. "That's why I brought you away from the others, so they wouldn't be tempted to look if such a need arose."
Hesitantly, Aili sighed and pulled the tunic over her head, clutching it tightly in her hands. The fabric, faintly stained with blood and dirt in places, offered little comfort, and she felt acutely exposed. Bruem's heart ached with empathy as he gently moved her hair aside, revealing the full extent of the injuries she bore even so early in their arduous journey.
Across her back and shoulders, a tapestry of bruises painted her skin in shades of deep blue, vivid purple, and ominous black, each mark a somber testament to the violence she had endured. Larger cuts, jagged and angry, bore the unmistakable imprint of ranger boots that had struck her that fateful morning. These wounds, now exposed, were red and raw where her coarse clothing had rubbed against them, exacerbating the pain. Most concerning was a gaping gash that carved a cruel path from her lower right rib to her left shoulder blade, its edges still weeping crimson. The blood, seeping slowly, stained her back in stark contrast to her pale skin, the wound throbbing with a deep-seated irritation that mirrored Aili's evident discomfort.
Taking the rag, he carefully saturated it with a mixture of alcohol and cool water drawn from his canteen. Pressing the damp cloth to her back, Aili moaned with closed lips against the searing sting of the alcohol as it cleansed the wound. She bowed her head, exhaling sharply, tears welling in her eyes and glistening in the faint light filtering through the forest canopy.
Bruem proceeded with meticulous care, his movements deliberate and gentle, mindful of every wince and shudder that betrayed Aili's pain. With each tender touch of the rag, he worked to cleanse the wound swiftly yet softly, seeking to ease her suffering as best he could. As he listened to Aili's uneven, shaky breathing, initially attributing it to the agony inflicted by her injuries, a deeper understanding dawned upon him.
"Those men this morning... what words did they speak to you?" Bruem inquired softly. After a pause of quiet, he added, "Does it pain you to speak of it? You need not share if it burdens you."
After some hesitation, she exhaled through her nose. "They demanded to know our path and..." Aili spoke quietly, a tear tracing a path down her cheek as she recounted the morning's ordeal. Silence hung heavy after her words, her
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