Berries
Hannah
Whatever little strength I had left in my body, I summoned it, kicking with all my might, thrashing and yelling at him to let me go.
When I woke up, I didn’t feel rested at all. I was horribly hungry, my throat dry, and there was an unpleasant, fuzzy feeling in my mouth. My stomach was painfully empty, my body dehydrated. I tried to think straight, but my head felt dizzy, clouded by a heavy brain fog.
Sitting on top of the tree, I sighed heavily, already knowing this was going to be a long, long day. I needed to find something to eat and drink, so I pulled myself up and left my little sanctuary in the crown of the tree.
Once my feet touched the forest floor again, I looked around aimlessly, unsure which direction to take.
Going back the way I had come was pointless, so I decided to move on, hoping to stumble across anything that might quench my hunger and thirst.
At that thought, my stomach growled painfully, so much so that I bent over and sucked in a breath.
Come on, let’s go, I thought and started walking.
The forest floor was damp and cool against my bare feet. The air felt light and fresh, smelling faintly of something that reminded me of pine needles and wet soil. Absentmindedly, I walked past a cluster of large rocks, noticing the rustling of someone standing up far too late.
I gaped at the sight of the very same man I had so carefully avoided yesterday, now standing right in front of me, staring down at me.
My feet reacted before my weary mind even had time to process what I was seeing. I spun on my heels and ran.
Behind me, I heard him take off after me.
Unsurprisingly, it didn’t take long before a large, muscular arm wrapped around my middle, pulling me hard against his broad chest.
I yelled, screamed at him to let me go, kicking wildly and trying to land a hit against his shins.
I clawed at his arm, elbowed him, desperate to loosen his grip, but it was futile.
I was no match for his strength. I wasn’t even sure he felt any pain at all. Like a kitten trying to free itself from a human’s grasp, my scratches were nothing more than an annoyance.
In a deep, husky voice, he said, “The chase is over, little pet.”
With no strength left, my movements began to slow. The adrenaline drained from my body, replaced by a crushing despair. I knew I was caught. I had lost. Still, I whimpered, “Please… let me go.”
“No,” was his only response.
In the same moment, he spun me around and threw me over his shoulder. The sudden movement made me dizzy, my stomach lurching violently. Nausea surged through me, his shoulder pressing painfully into my already empty stomach.
“It hurts. Let me down,” I rasped.
“No,” he said again, already walking.
Tears pooled in my eyes, blurring my vision. I wanted to scream, to cry out for help, but who would come to my aid? No one. I was alone, and the realisation made me even more desperate. The tears spilled freely now as I began to sob.
Unable to stop myself, I let them fall. My upper body swayed softly with his steps as I cried—about my situation, about everything that had led me here, about how utterly alone I had felt ever since I was abducted. The worst part was that I had no agency back then, and none now.
I was tired. Hungry. Thirsty. My body ached from yesterday’s running.
A sharp pain flared as I felt a slap across the back of my upper thigh.
“Stop that!” he snapped.
Anger flared hot and sudden in my veins. How dare he slap me. How dare he tell me to stop crying. Without thinking, I raised my hand and slapped him across the lower back.
“Go to hell!” I shouted.
He growled and struck me again across the back of my thighs. Fueled by anger, I lifted my leg and kicked him square in the chest.
“Umpf!” he grunted.
A flicker of satisfaction ran through me. Maybe now he would let me go.
But it was short-lived.
The next thing I knew, he grabbed my shift and yanked me off his shoulder. My back hit the forest floor hard, knocking the air from my lungs as I cried out. Towering over me, he loomed like a nightmare made flesh.
His eyes were wide with fury, his mouth twisted into a snarl. Two rows of sharp teeth flashed, his lower fangs standing out clearly. His fists were clenched, his breathing deep and controlled, as if he were barely restraining himself.
He was terrifying.
Never in my life had I felt so small.
Scrambling backward, I tried to put distance between us, but he followed, never breaking his stare. I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t.
Then he spoke, anger vibrating through every word.
“First you flee. Then you disobey my commands. You mock me, laugh at me, and now that I have caught you, you dare to scream at me and fight me?”
I’m dead, I thought. I’m going to die.
I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t even make a sound. I just kept crawling backward.
He bent down, and I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing myself for pain. For him to crush me.
Instead, two large hands wrapped around my waist, and I yelped in terror. Before I could react, he threw me over his shoulder again and continued marching on.
I gasped, stunned. He hadn’t hurt me. Why?
Too scared to move, I stared blankly at his back, my body rigid with fear. I wanted to escape, but the thought of provoking him again was far more terrifying than being carried like this.
Drokahr
Anger pulsed through my veins. I flexed and released my left hand repeatedly, trying to calm myself. Drawing in deep breaths, I forced my rage down.
My right arm was locked securely around my pet, once again slung over my shoulder—thankfully quiet and completely motionless now. I had seen it in her eyes, in every frantic movement when she tried to escape me earlier. I had terrified her.
Good.
She was a pet. A servant. She had to learn where her place was. If fear was what it took to teach her obedience, so be it.
I walked on.
The forest was quiet now, save for the rustling of leaves and grass as the wind moved through them. It was almost peaceful, and slowly, my anger ebbed.
She hadn’t made a sound in quite some time. At first, I was glad for the silence, but soon unease crept in. I considered slapping her again, then dismissed the thought. I didn’t want to provoke another outburst.
Instead, I gave her a gentle shake.
She responded with a faint groan, followed by a loud growl.
“Are you hungry?” I asked.
“Yes,” she murmured.
I sniffed the air, catching the scent of something sweet. Following it, I led us through the forest until we reached a bush heavy with plump red fruit.
Setting her down—more gently this time—I pointed at the bush. “Eat.”
She glanced at the fruit, then up at me with wary, red-rimmed eyes. “How do I know they aren’t poisonous?”
“They are not. Eat,” I said, crossing my arms.
She didn’t move.
My patience wore thin. “What are you waiting for? Eat, so we can move on.”
Still hesitant, she remained frozen. I reached past her, making her flinch, and plucked one of the small red berries from the bush.
“Look,” I said, popping it into my mouth.
The fruit burst with sweetness. “Now eat.”
She frowned. “Just because you can eat it doesn’t mean I can. It could kill me.”
Annoyed, I picked another berry and pressed it against her lips. She tried to pull away, but I placed my hand at the back of her head, holding her in place. She pressed her lips together stubbornly.
Frustration flared. I tugged her hair, forcing a yelp from her and her mouth open. I dropped the berry inside and covered her mouth.
“Swallow,” I commanded.
She glared at me for a moment, fury burning in her eyes, then slowly began to chew.
Her expression changed.
Her eyes softened, closing as a small sound escaped her lips—almost a moan. I froze, watching as the tension drained from her face, fear replaced by something dangerously close to relief.
When she opened her eyes again, I released her.
“Eat more,” I ordered.
This time, she obeyed.
She plucked berry after berry from the bush, sometimes stuffing several into her mouth at once, making quiet, almost joyful sounds as she ate. I watched for a while, then moved to a nearby tree and sat down against it.
She wouldn’t run now.
Closing my eyes, I listened to the forest—and to the soft sounds of this strange creature eating.
Mine.