Fyrehart

Eight creatures fight for the power to control Newearth.

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13. Chapter Thirteen

NOTE: Another little chapter.

 

 Tornei woke up covered in sweat. There was light shining through a little open bit at the top of the door which gave the room enough light to be able to see in. She noticed her dress had been ripped and the ends of her hair had mud in it. Tornei looked around the little room. She had no idea where she was. Probably in some elf dungeon. She looked over to a corner and noticed there were two dark objects. Guessing they were food and water, Tornei half dragged, half crawled over to them. She had the food first. It was cold and stale but she didn't care. She picked up the bread and the first bite had her stomach retch and lurch and she was sick on the floor. She collasped onto the floor wanting to cry but no tears came. Tornei had no idea how long she lay there, all she knew that was she wanted to die.

A few hours, minutes, seconds, days? Tornei was sure, past. She was unbelievably hot now.

How can a place in the north be this hot?

Her ripped, filfthy dress clung to her and suddenly felt tight across her chest. She was covered in all cuts and bruises. Her breasts were sensitive and sore....No! Six years ago, before Con went to war, was the last time she had a feeling like this. She placed a hand on her stomach and cried, tears falling out of her eyes. Between her tears, she willed herself that no matter what these elves did to her, she would stay alive. If not for herself, then for this little piece of Con inside her.

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