“Woman, where is your mate?”
Beady, feral eyes fastened not on her face, but on her breasts. She was being sized up as a potential captive. Wildling tribes were not known for their kindness to women. Women did all the work in addition to bearing the young. Sarah had always given wildlings a wide berth, but apparently there were some in the region she and William had decided to make their home.
“My mate hunts,” she said. “You should leave. These are his lands. He will not be pleased to find you here.”
“Where are your young?”
“We have none.”
“If you have no young, you have no mate.” The wildling beckoned her with a jerky impatient movement of his arm. “Come with us.”
“I will not be coming with you,” Sarah said, holding her ground. She had the doorway, but that was all. The hatchets and knives William had fashioned were out of her reach and the wildlings were well armed, though their weapons were inferior bone items. She knew very well that it was not the weapon which mattered, but the wielder and what the wielder was prepared to do with it. Judging by the look of the little hunting party, they were prepared to do whatever was necessary. Their eyes were hungry, appreciative on a level which made her feel like prey. She was prepared to fight to the death if necessary. She would not allow herself to be taken by a pack of savages.
“Leave,” she growled between clenched teeth. “Or I will make you.”
There were no more words after that point. The wild men charged toward the cabin. She managed to slam the door in their faces, but they pounded upon it and drove it backward against its rudimentary hinges.
She grabbed for a piece of parchment and scratched on it with a quill which mercifully still contained a few traces of wet ink.
WOLDRING
She wrote frantically, drawing the letters of the word out of her memory as best she could with the feral men bashing at the door. They had surrounded the cabin and were slamming their fists and weapons against the walls, not quite understanding the concept of doors.
The latch was giving way as she grabbed one of William's works in progress, a sharp rock knife. The door burst open, fell off its hinges, and was trampled by the careless feet of a half dozen wild men. They rushed her with rough hands, earning themselves cuts from her knife. She was fierce, but one knife was not enough to repel them all. Inevitably, the knife was struck from her hand and she was bound like a pig, hands together, feet together.
She shouted her rage, but nobody cared. Wild men did not concern themselves with the feelings of those they hunted, animal or human. They hauled her out of the cabin between two men, laughing and comparing wounds. Far from dissuading them with her vicious defense, she had done nothing but given them something to be proud of. Her struggles were furious, but although her bonds were primitive, they were just as effective as any restraints forged in the city.
Strange how she had been put in crates, trained like a pet, and still it was less dehumanizing than the treatment these wildlings were bestowing upon her. Not a one of them had made any form of connection with her, not a one of them had checked if her bonds were too tight or if she could breathe comfortably. They were treating her with no more care than a sack of meat, less care really, because a sack of meat would have required more care lest it spill its load.
“William!” She cried his name at the top of her lungs. “William!”
There was no reply from the silent forest.
William knew something was wrong long before he entered the clearing. The forest was too quiet, and the closer he got to the cabin, the quieter it got. When he stepped through the trees, he saw that the earth had been disturbed around the cabin and the door was missing. Restraining the urge to run toward the house, he first made sure that there was nobody still around. An attack had clearly taken place. Sarah was nowhere to be seen, but she could have been hiding nearby.
Further investigation revealed that the house had barely been touched aside from the door being broken down. His heart sank when he saw the note. It wasn't difficult to put the pieces together. She had been taken. The results of the struggle were obvious, including blood congealing in big hand prints on the walls.
Cursing under his breath, William looked to where the trail of heavy footprints led into the forest. Their trail was so obvious they may as well have paved a road. Grabbing a few more supplies, he followed it into the gathering dusk.