PART EIGHT ~

Arien trudged slowly after the pack, her legs moving wearily down the winding path, littered with soft leaves and damp moss. Branches twisted out like a crippled hand from the towering trees either side of her, gnarled and withered, and the dense undergrowth knotted and writhed beneath her sore feet as a keen wind blew on.

After a while, a sudden shadow fell over the forest like a blanket as the canopy of trees above her became more entwined, blocking out the shimmering moon that now glimmered in the sky above. In the newely fallen darkness, Arien's eyes were unable to adjust, and before long, she found herself tripping once more over a root that jutted out of the soft soul. She staggered forward, almost tumbling to the ground, but steady hands caught her and hauled her back onto her feet. 

"Keep moving," Snarled the orc gripping her arm, kicking Arien in the back and sending her lurching forward again. A gurgling laughter erupted from behind and Arien abruptly pivoted on her foot to face to the beast and spat in it's eye.

It's face contorted in anger as it recoiled in disgust. "Oh, that's it!" He roared, slicing the dagger from it's sheath and pressing it against her throat threateningly. It's eyes narrowed and it pushed her roughly backwards, until her back rested against a thick trunk hidden in the gloom. She glanced at the blade wearily. Her breathing slowed a little, but her face was set in grim determination as she glowered at the hideous creature.

 "Enough!" A voice commanded as a figure pushed through the pack. "The leader said to keep her alive. Now get a move on!"

The orc growled in annoyance but removed the blade from Arien's neck, stepping back and pushing her back in line once more. Arien let out a huff of relief and followed behind the pack. 

~ 

By the time they had reached the camp, the moon was high in the sky, and shimmering stars peeped out of the gloomy darkness. A small fire was lit in the middle, and the flames flickered vigorously in the wind, dancing and gliding and spitting amber sparks. 

The orc that had hold of her threw her violently to the ground, kneeling crookedly next to her and binding her hands and legs with thin strips of cloth. It tightened the knot and rose, but before it left, it kicked her savagely where her flesh was still sore with the wound and let out a bout of laughter in response to her cry of agony. She gritted her teeth and resisted the urge to strike out with her confined legs.  

The orc shook it's head and returned to the rest of the pack, who were settling noisily by the fire, under which a tender piece of meat was being licked by the flames. Arien looked longingly at the food as her stomach rumbled vigorously with hunger. Every now and again, a handful of orcs glanced over to make sure their prisoner was still in their sight, and after a while, two guards were stationed either side of her. 

After some time, she felt her head drooping with weariness, and her body collapsed into a deep slumber. 

~ 

Arien's eyes fluttered open abruptly, for somewhat of a ruckus was taking place. A series of brusque shouts and growls roused her from her sleep and she glanced round profoundly, her eyes scanning the fuzzy gloom. The limits of sleep hastily left her, and she squinted until she caught sight of several figures rushing about in confusion. The orcs by her side had vanished, and Arien chuckled slightly. Whatever it was, it had given her the chance to escape. 

Subtly, she began shuffling backwards, her legs scarping against the fallen leaves and twigs, her eyes scanning her surroundings the whole while. She bit back a moan of pain as a somewhat sharp branch suddenly brushed against her leg, where the grimy cloth was stained deep crimson. 

Arien had nearly disappeared into the shadows when something caught her eye in the scene before her and she gasped, taken aback. The muttering and perplexed orcs were suddenly struck down by a hooded figure who had sprung from the trees. The mysterious warrior fought them off with ease, swinging and arcing his sword about skillfully, meeting their blades with his own, dodging and ducking effortlessly. Arien watched with something like awe, her gaze glued onto the figure. 

Before long, all orcs in sight were dead, their corpses littering the floor in a grotesque manor; their bodies coiled and twisted. Arien frowned as one of the bodies still writhed in pain some paces away, but the figure leaped from nowhere, slicing his sword through the air and into the orc's chest, making it eventually fall motionless.

Arien found herself soon freed from the bounds of the rope as the cloaked saviour bounded over to her and sliced the cloth from her skin, offering a hand, which she took gratefully. But before she could say a word, the figure swept his cloak off in a flourish, and the girl was unable to utter a sound. She stood motionless, gaping at the man in front of her, as he met her gaze with a bemused expression.

"Thoros!?"