******WARNING STRONG LANGUAGE, ADULT SITUATIONS******
Bagrak’s eyes are swollen, she has a sick feeling, but she is gagged, hands bound. She cannot force it back, with the strength she has left she kicks her heal against the wagon. Lette yells out “WHOEVER IS KICKING BETTER STOP IT NOW!” Bagrak can’t hold it back, she tries to stand. Lette sees the Orc trying to get up, she must need to pee or something. “Is that you making that racket, you better settle down.” Bagrak shakes her head. Fenrar notices the commotion and it looks like the Orc is going to vomit her neck keeps pulsating, “um, Lette.” “Shut up Fenrar.” “No Lette I think she…” “Forget it…” Fenrar pulls the gag, pulls the cover up and leans her out the side just in the nick of time.
“WHAT’S GOING ON BACK THERE?” “Nothing Sorar, nothing, one of the "cattle" just got sick.” “Keep it down we are getting close to Falkreath, I don’t need those busy body guards getting involved, remember Riften, I had to shell out quite a few Septims and I don’t intend to do that again.” Fenrar pulls Bagrak back inside, he forgets to gag her, not that she could have shouted or even called for help her throat was so sore. She looks towards Nin, still out cold, with a lump the size of a gourd! So they are near Falkreath, where are they taking us? It was obvious they were going to sell them, these sick rejects. Bagrak looks around there are few others in the wagon. They had a total of six women, including her, two Nords, a Redguard, and two Dark Elves. The Redguard must have put up some fight too she looked as bad as Bagrak felt.
Fenrar whispers, “So Orc [he rubs his hand along Bagrak’s leg, his touch makes her want to vomit again] do you have a name?” His breath stinks, he stinks. She turns her head away from him. “Maybe Sorar will let me nurse you back to health before you’re sold, I have just the thing to cure you.” Bagrak feels her stomach flip flop again, this guy is sick. And he confirmed her thoughts; they are going to sell us. He lay’s one hand on me… And what all tied up; she closes her eyes maybe she could will him away, his hand feels greasy as he kneads her thigh it repulses her.
The wagon comes to a stop, Bagrak jolts awake, she must have dosed off. The one called Lette, jumps out the back and Fenrar goes towards the opening too. Sorar looks inside, good they all appear to be alive, the one Nord is still out cold, and some look a little worse for wear, but a little healing time would fix that. His side still ached but the blood wasn't oozing out. It pissed him off every time he thought about it, that Nord bitch! “Fenrar, Lette, Tibus where stopping here for the night the other wagon is pulled behind those trees move this one right next to it, I do not want these seen from the road we are too close to the border.” “Sorar, one of ours got sick can we take them out one at a time just let them get some air and take a piss?” “Listen Fenrar, none of your little tricks you hear me. Your shit is already taking up space don’t make me regret taking you.” Fenrar recoils a little, he is basically a coward who hides behind Sorar and the rest of the group, but for a Nord he is useful at lock picking, and sneaking into places unnoticed, very useful indeed. “Lette, one at a time they can come out, they eat inside that wagon, and check on the bitch that stabbed me, if she is dead we’ll toss her ass out in the morning. Now, let’s get settled for the night we have six hours before we hit the road.”
Tibus steers the wagon next to the other one, off the road so as not to be seen by a passer-by just as Sorar instructed. Fenrar, grumbles to himself. Jack-ass, so what if he liked to sample the goods before they get sold, it is useful information in his opinion he gathered on them. He watches Lette, tasty “cattle” this time. Fenrar pulls out a bed roll for himself and Tibus; Lette has first watch. The other wagon is set up and has a fire going. Rona, Gan, and Roland have helped themselves to some ale. “Hey, Fen, have one.” Gan throws the bottle of ale to Fenrar. “Thanks, what have we got to give the cattle to eat?” Rona hands him a sack, “here you go.” He pry’s the bottle open and drinks the ale down, ahhhh just what I needed. “Here [walking over he hold the sack up] want me to help pass it out?” “Yeah, once I bring them back give them their ration and tie them back up.” “Is that one dead [pointing to Ingoknin] yet, can we toss her?” “No, but Roland sure gave her a good wallop she is in sleepy land still.” Fenrar gives a little smile and raises his eyebrows. “Hmm, she did take out Nolus and Ulran, wasn't Nolus related to Roland?” “Yeah, it was his brother you idiot.” “Ops, thanks, well no one said a life of crime was going to be easy.” “You are an ass Fenrar, just hand out the food would you and shut up.”
As Bagrak leapt down from the wagon and she notices the other one that the bandit leader was talking about, how many are on that one… “Hurry up Orc, we don’t have all night.” With one hand tied to her capture and one free hand Bagrak relieves herself. “Now, back up into the wagon.” “You elf, your next, the elf sides over the bench and jumps down. “Hello my sweet Orc.” Fenrar, hands Bargrak her rations. “You still have not told me your name, no worries; we’ll come up with a real nice one for you sweets.” Bagrak inhales; temper, mind your temper now is not the time or place to shove his head up his ass, but soon… Glaring at him she takes her rations and climbs back up into the wagon, Fenrar follows her and ties her hands back together. As he does his eyes look ravenously over her, his hands travel up her arms, he smiles a twisted evil grin, she is frozen with disgust, his hands go to her neck, and down her chest. He comes in closer his lips pressing against her jaw, then his tongue, his teeth sinking into her ear lobe, it hurts but she doesn't move. He whispers, “Soon my sweet, I’ll give you what you need to feel better.” It takes everything for Bagrak not to kick his ass as he walks away.
Sorar had a schedule to keep; he had to get these “goods” so called “cattle” to his buyer in Cyrodiil. It was a good shipment too, some Nords, Dark Elves, Redguards, Imperials, and an Orc, he should get some good coin for this trip. He did lose two of his men, Nolus and Ulran, that one Nord bitch was a damn good aim and strong. He'd make it up to Roland give him Nolus' share of the coin. Once they made it to Cyrodiil he’d off load the shipment at camp and get them healed up for the auction they are holding west of Burma, near the caverns. He smiled just thinking about the coin…
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Ingoknin head was pounding. She moans. Bagrak leans over and rests her fingers on Nin’s leg. Maybe the physical contact will help sooth her friend. Lette looks over, barely notices. “Hey, you Lette, is it?” “Shut up Orc!” “Pssst” “Listen all this talking will wake Sorar and we don’t want to wake Sorar.” “OK, OK, but what is going on, where are we going, I mean I think I can figure it out but you’re a woman too, why would you participate in this?” “Listen Orc and listen real good, I said shut up, you are in no position to question me, ya hear, now I won’t tell ya again, shut up and shut your friend up too.”
“Nin, Nin, can you open your eyes?” Nin hears Bagrak whispering to her, she wants to answer but the words just won’t come out. One of the Dunmer leans over, “My name is Verara, and maybe I can help your friend?” “You think it is a huge lump.” They look over at Lette, who has heard the whole conversation but is acting like she can’t. “Um, yeah let me try I am a healer, we were taken a few nights ago on our way back to Windhelm.” She indicates her sister sitting next to her. Verara leans down; summoning her magika with the little energy she has Verara casts her healing hands upon Nin. It completely drains Verara and she leans on her sister, Felsa.
Nin, eyes flutter and open, she sees Bagrak, and right away Bagrak is hushing her. “Shhhhh, Nin, easy, slowly, try and sit up.” Nin tries to right herself, with her hands bound and her head throbbing she feels like the wagon is spinning. Lette keeps an eye on the group, she hates what is happening but she has no control, lest the same fate happens to her.
“Keep it down Nin, do you remember what happened?” Nin brings her knees to her chest and leans her head between them. “Yes, yes I do Bagrak.” “OK good, I know you are not well but you need to listen to me, we passed Falkreath, I think we are going to Cyrodiil or maybe Hammerfell. From what I was told they are going to sell us, so I think it is safe to say they don’t want us too banged up and are taking us someplace to clean up and get healed, just keep acting real sick [Nin thinks well that won’t be too hard now will it] and once we are settled that is when we will decided what to do, sit tight we’ll get out of this.” The younger Dunmer whispers to Bagrak, “I’m Felsa, Verara sister. How about you? Are you OK?” “Yeah thanks Felsa, I’m Bagrak, I can’t thank Verara enough. We need to stick together, there is another wagon and I am sure it is full just like this one, we are going to need to help each other.” Felsa eyes look nervous but her voice doesn't quiver “Sure, you can count on us.”
“Hey, Bagrak I’m in too.” The Redguard joins in. “I’m Neesha, you can count on me.” Bagrak looks over to the other Nord. “How about you?” Jala looks over at the Orc and the rest of the group and thinks, what do I have to lose! “Sure, you can count me in; I’m Jala, Jala Fair-Song.”
Lette just pretends not to hear, it won’t be the first time the women tried to escape, little did they know, there wasn't any hope, Sorar had watchmen all over. She walks over to Tibus and wakes him; no way is she leaving Fenrar with them.
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Before the sun is up they are on the road. Inside the wagon it’s quite, mostly the women are exhausted from the ordeal. The wagons stop, and Tibus comes to the back, “we’re almost at Pale Pass, let’s take a break, I want to check the horses. See if they need anything.” Tibus says as he motions towards the women. Fenrar gets up and jumps out the back, leaving Lette, she passes out some cups of water. Once she approaches Bagrak and hands her a cup, she whispers “I heard you last night.” Bagrak keeps drinking; she knew Lette had heard them. “I can help you escape.” With that Lette moves on handing Ingoknin some water and Jala as well. Bagrak’s eyes met Lette’s, she sees trust there and just nods.
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