((Warning: This thread is adult themed, violent. Please do not read further if these matters offend. It is open to those who want to track the trail of her, so to speak. Any questions, just PM or email. Thanks!))

The shadow had watched the girl for a some time. Almost a week and with it, Gracus was becoming impatient. Word was spread from the seeker back to the barbarian king of the Llothgar tribes.

There was no more waiting where the order had been given to take back what had belonged to Gracus u'Lor's brother, Kiroth. His property was Gracus', but right and demand.

Now there was not just one shadow, but two. Hunting leathers worn, shins of their boots were bound snuggly with leopard fur. The small woman was seen for only the second time outside of the inn in almost four days when they saw her again.

The taller of the two moved first and caughter her up by the arm, his other hand closing over her mouth and muffling the chance for an outcry.

Dark eyes flew wide to recognize the clothing of the Llothgar. A horrible mixture of gentled recognition and memory, and the realization of what they were doing churned in the pit of her taut belly.

She kicked against the second of the warriors, landing the flat heel of her sheepskin boots into his gutt. S'jira's hips bucked and her form twisted, but their grips were that of unkind irons, biting into her the flesh of her ankles and forearms.

A striking blow brought a ringing to her ears and the world about her to darkness.

Left to the ground outside of the Red Dragon Inn was the moonstar necklace that had fallen from her skirt pocket, and one of her boots.

"Panther?"

S'jira stilled herself. She had not realized she had said his name aloud. With effort, she tried to move again, but the stabbing pain came again in her side that brought fresh tears. Her head fell back against the fur covered floor of the tent as she gasped for air.

"Who is Panther, little one? Is that the beast my men say has your adoration? You stupid slave. You know better than that. " He reached out for Ghetra and took her by the neck and brought her cheek against the floor beside where he sat. "Even Ghetra knows better than to love. Do you not, Ghetra?" Gracus did not wait for his girl's reply and turned cold eyes back upon S'jira. "My brother's property. Now tell me, child. Why did my brother run from our lands? Why so cowardly an act? There must have been a reason for him to make it look that way for I know the fierceness of the blood that once flowed through his veins."

Darkness closed against the sight of Gracus and Ghetra. Her head turned and buried into the layers of furs that were the floor. The pain was too much to move any other part of her then. Not yet.

She did not hear him move. There was no indication of it until he had his fist tight within her hair and lifting her head with it. Pain shot through her that nearly blinded the eyes that she could still see a little with, screaming as her spine was arched. Through clenched teeth, the words raked outwards again her. "Too long you have been outside of the tents of Llothgar, s'jira. Too long, child. I see that you will need a reteaching of our ways. Ghetra, bring me my quirt!"

Ghetra flowed with grace, even in those tense times. The shift moved about her hips and carressed her thighs to move from where she had forced her to kneel beside the firepit. To one of the small trunks of wood, metal, and leather the quirt was removed. It was worn with use and faded a little at the grip where his hand had been about it many times.

The slave of that tent was swift in her course, moving towards. She dropped to her knees and held the quirt out to him with her head as lowly bent towards the ground as it was possible without falling over.

Gracus snatched it away from Ghetra and took to beginning of lessons that s'jira had forgotten. Painful ones. She felt iron, cruel hands upon her. Cloth was ripped from her body and the biting kisses of leather against flesh had begun. Assaulted with those lessons that Ghetra knew well and s'jira thought were a vague memory.

Since the first day they had stepped foot into the strange, foreign lands of RhyDin the clearing had been found. Camp was set up with the skill of those used to living off the land and taking whatever else was wanted or needed.

Four smaller tents encircled a larger one but each stood with a sturdiness that would have weathered some of the strongest winds and heaviest snowfalls. Before the greater of the tents, a large firepit had been dug into the ground and stones ringed it to help encourage and hold the warmth. It was where the men rested and ate between shifts of guarding the encampment, where the two slavewomen served them their meals.

Under the protective, thick boughs of the trees that were nearby the horses had been tied. The wagon was not far away from the horses.

The men moved with ways of barbarians, where brawn and steel ruled most matters. Leather and fur trappings were their garb. Hands ever at the grip of a sword or dagger, even when at ease. Sharp attention would only wane with the fading night.

Ghetra was the one who stole from the large tent, leaving Master Gracus sleeping and S'jira to her pain-filled sleep. The fire that was dieing was tended until it once more brought the man near it plenty of warmth.