Sitting cross-legged on the hard ground, her wrists bound behind her, she glared at the warrior who had tied the rope around her neck, and had pounded a stake into the ground to make sure she wouldn't be going anywhere. She had stopped crying, realizing long ago, that tears only added to her captor's pleasure. They had traveled the better part of the day without stopping. When they finally reached the camp, the villagers had been hostile, spitting, hitting, pinching and taunting her. It was by far the most horrifying experience she'd ever endured. The horses neighing in the makeshift corral caught her attention. Seeing her mare among the stolen mounts made her yearn for escape. If only there was a way to get out of her binds. But even if she did, escape would be difficult, and if she were caught, it would mean certain death. Plus, it seemed that every time she thought she was alone, she turned and there was someone watching her. Her thoughts were in turmoil as she constantly wondered if her cousin and Gray Hawk had been killed in the raid.
