to her trapped arms was such that she froze, unable to move.
“What’s this?” Smith’s fingers were inspecting her bra. She replied by sinking her teeth into his underarm, which made him yelp.
“Smith?”
“I’m fine,” Smith hollered. “I just caught myself a vixen. You’ll pay for that,” he said viciously.
“A vixen? Here?”
Alex could make out the sound of several men moving towards them, but what was she to do, pinned under this man whose fingers were now struggling with her jeans. A wave of rage surged through her; no way. Disgusting creep of a man, and what did he think he was doing, sticking his dirty fingers into her jeans? So, dig your heels in, tense your goddamn thighs and buck, now.
Smith grunted with surprise, sliding off to her right. Ha! Her shoulders were on fire, her arms pulled so tight behind her it felt as if the sockets were about to give at any moment, but she was back on her feet, poised to run, when from the direction of the fire came four more men.
“Well, well,” the fattest of the men said. “Look at that.”
“See? I told you.” Smith got to his feet, one hand holding up his breeches.
“It might be a lad,” one of the soldiers said, squinting at what he could make out of Alex.
“Definitely not a lad,” Smith grinned. “I’ve made sure.”
“Oh have you, now? Well, we’d best make sure as well.”
They converged on her. Alex leapt away, but the men just laughed.
“Run, lass,” one of them urged, “we could do with a bit of sport.”
Alex considered her situation. With her hands tied behind her she had only one option; run and run fast. No way would she be able to kick all five of them to the ground, and besides, her foot was far from healed. Smith lunged, Alex twisted out of range, brought up her knee. Too bad she missed his balls, but the effect was pretty good anyway, with him collapsing like a pricked balloon.
“Feisty,” one of the other soldiers said. “Are you alright down there, Smith?”
Smith scowled at Alex and heaved himself upright. Alex turned and ran. They came after her, whooping like boys playing at Indians. Unlike boys, they weren’t playing, and Alex was cornered. She licked her lips. Bambi meets the wolf pack. Except that Bambi was better at running. One of the men snickered.
“Me first,” he said.
“In your dreams,” Alex spat, trying to sound menacing. Her voice squeaked. They laughed.
From the campsite came a blood curling shriek. Again. The soldiers turned.
“What was that?” the fat one said.
The obvious leader shook his head. “Will? Are you alright, Will?” he called.
In reply came wild neighing, more shrieking.
“Moss-troopers!” the leader said. “They’ll steal the horses.”
He rushed towards the clearing where fire seemed to be spreading in wild, uncontrolled tongues through the closest bushes.
“Come on!” he barked, and all but Smith hurried after him. Powder exploded when the fire found the pouches, a horse broke free of the hobbles and charged off into the night, and Alex took off.
“Oy!” Smith rushed after her, but Alex had no intention of stopping, crashing through the undergrowth like an aggravated boar. A hand came down on her arm, she screamed, yet another hand clamped down over her mouth and she was lifted to the side, pressed hard against a tree trunk.
“Shush,” Matthew whispered in her ear. Alex wanted to cry.
Matthew undid her bindings, threw the belt to the side. From the campsite came shouts, from some metres away came the sounds of a man running through the woods. Smith, she supposed, knees wobbling.
“Quickly.” His breath tickled her skin. Alex needed no further telling. She slunk after him into the protective darkness, mimicking the way he was running, torso bent at an almost ninety degree angle to his hips.
*
An hour or so later they stopped, and Alex sagged down to sit.
“Are you alright?” Matthew asked.
Alex nodded, still out of breath.
“He didn’t hurt
“What’s this?” Smith’s fingers were inspecting her bra. She replied by sinking her teeth into his underarm, which made him yelp.
“Smith?”
“I’m fine,” Smith hollered. “I just caught myself a vixen. You’ll pay for that,” he said viciously.
“A vixen? Here?”
Alex could make out the sound of several men moving towards them, but what was she to do, pinned under this man whose fingers were now struggling with her jeans. A wave of rage surged through her; no way. Disgusting creep of a man, and what did he think he was doing, sticking his dirty fingers into her jeans? So, dig your heels in, tense your goddamn thighs and buck, now.
Smith grunted with surprise, sliding off to her right. Ha! Her shoulders were on fire, her arms pulled so tight behind her it felt as if the sockets were about to give at any moment, but she was back on her feet, poised to run, when from the direction of the fire came four more men.
“Well, well,” the fattest of the men said. “Look at that.”
“See? I told you.” Smith got to his feet, one hand holding up his breeches.
“It might be a lad,” one of the soldiers said, squinting at what he could make out of Alex.
“Definitely not a lad,” Smith grinned. “I’ve made sure.”
“Oh have you, now? Well, we’d best make sure as well.”
They converged on her. Alex leapt away, but the men just laughed.
“Run, lass,” one of them urged, “we could do with a bit of sport.”
Alex considered her situation. With her hands tied behind her she had only one option; run and run fast. No way would she be able to kick all five of them to the ground, and besides, her foot was far from healed. Smith lunged, Alex twisted out of range, brought up her knee. Too bad she missed his balls, but the effect was pretty good anyway, with him collapsing like a pricked balloon.
“Feisty,” one of the other soldiers said. “Are you alright down there, Smith?”
Smith scowled at Alex and heaved himself upright. Alex turned and ran. They came after her, whooping like boys playing at Indians. Unlike boys, they weren’t playing, and Alex was cornered. She licked her lips. Bambi meets the wolf pack. Except that Bambi was better at running. One of the men snickered.
“Me first,” he said.
“In your dreams,” Alex spat, trying to sound menacing. Her voice squeaked. They laughed.
From the campsite came a blood curling shriek. Again. The soldiers turned.
“What was that?” the fat one said.
The obvious leader shook his head. “Will? Are you alright, Will?” he called.
In reply came wild neighing, more shrieking.
“Moss-troopers!” the leader said. “They’ll steal the horses.”
He rushed towards the clearing where fire seemed to be spreading in wild, uncontrolled tongues through the closest bushes.
“Come on!” he barked, and all but Smith hurried after him. Powder exploded when the fire found the pouches, a horse broke free of the hobbles and charged off into the night, and Alex took off.
“Oy!” Smith rushed after her, but Alex had no intention of stopping, crashing through the undergrowth like an aggravated boar. A hand came down on her arm, she screamed, yet another hand clamped down over her mouth and she was lifted to the side, pressed hard against a tree trunk.
“Shush,” Matthew whispered in her ear. Alex wanted to cry.
Matthew undid her bindings, threw the belt to the side. From the campsite came shouts, from some metres away came the sounds of a man running through the woods. Smith, she supposed, knees wobbling.
“Quickly.” His breath tickled her skin. Alex needed no further telling. She slunk after him into the protective darkness, mimicking the way he was running, torso bent at an almost ninety degree angle to his hips.
*
An hour or so later they stopped, and Alex sagged down to sit.
“Are you alright?” Matthew asked.
Alex nodded, still out of breath.
“He didn’t hurt
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