Snow was falling outside Makoto's window, beautiful little flakes that caught the weak moonlight and reflected it like little balls of silver. Makoto put her book face down on the cushion, taking off her spectacles to rub her tired eyes and groaned. The light of the day was long since gone, the moon at full point in the sky. Her candle was flickering dangerously; burning weaker and weaker as the wax was ate up. Candles were a precious thing and Makoto would normally never risk burning one, but she had such a craving for reading that she thought we should go insane if she didn't.
Her one bedroom little hut sat at the end of her village, making it an all too easy target for raiders. The villagers also like to whisper about witchcraft when she passed so she didn't mind being as far away from them as possible. Before her mom and dad left, they taught her the letters and how to read and write them. Her twin little brother and sister didn't help the whispers either, being that most women barely survived their first child, needless to say three. Her dad was all too often paid in books, not putting food on the table but giving Makoto a huge collection to take over.
Makoto took pride in her books, treating each one as if it was a child she had birthed. She also took pride in her knowledge and reading ability, although most people didn't feel the same way. They also sneered at her spectacles, whispering about dark magic and how it was a shame such a pretty young girl with the wide hips of a good child-bearer was lost to magic. Makoto didn't really want children and was pretty happy for dabbling in dark magic, if it kept kidnappers and crazy old ladies off her back.
Stretching from her cushion on the floor, leaving her book and spectacles in a heap, she raised to blow out the candle and flop into her straw mattress on the floor. Makoto wondered about were Pepper had gotten off to, her rambunctious little kitten she adopted a month or so ago as her back hit the rough straw, raising a dust cloud of musky dust motes to tickle her nose. Makoto raised her hand to scratch her nose, it suddenly burning and causing her eyes to water. Makoto's mind screamed when her hand failed to rise off the bed. Bathroot, her mind screamed, called such because women tended to never want to leave a bath after what men would do to them after they drugged them with the horrid root. My luck just run out, she thought as her mind grew blacker and blacker. Maybe they will notice my books and turn tail and run for the hills. Maybe my ca…
Makoto awoke to a pounding head, scrunching her eyes against the too bright moonlight. The floor beneath her swayed, causing her stomach to reject the small meal of bread and cheese she had earlier that day. Or yesterday. She didn't know. Lurching forward, feeling for the side of the wagon she assumed she was in, she heaved what little food she so desperately needed over the side, her eyes stinging at the effort. When she finished, she wiped her mouth on her tunic and sat back, sighing at the cool winter air on her burning face.
Makoto stayed that way until she dosed off again, waking up to a horse balking and whinnying. Groaning, she forced her eyes open to look around. A small wagon, the one she currently occupied, was being pulled by a beautifully bred horse. Atop the horse sat a small figure with a black clock, a man she assumed, with short black hair. Walking beside the horse was another figure, a towering mountain of a man with short black hair as well. Makoto could see the muscles ripple under his tunic when his cloak was blown to the side. Not bad, she thought, if only he wasn't my damned kidnapper!
Clearing her throat, she rasped, "What a lovely night to be out for a ride." The tower of a man tensed, pausing to toss his head over his shoulder to peer at her. Makoto gasped. The most beautiful color eyes sat framed in an even more beautiful face. His eyes were the color of moss mixed with the bright blue of the sky. She searched her mind for the proper name of the color, but her mind refused to work. Makoto's mouth tried to work, but she couldn't fit it around words. He let the wagon catch up to him, walking beside her now.
"Yes it is, actually. Be it a little chilly though," his voice rumbled from somewhere deep in his chest. He looked straight ahead, not looking her in the face again. She was grateful at that moment, since a blush now covered every spot of exposed skin on her body. Makoto's private area also tingled, a side effect of the bathroot. If she remembered correctly, with her mind barely functioning, she would experience symptoms of extreme lust for several days. Great. Now she would be reduced to a simple minded maiden with nothing on her mind but love.
Makoto sit quietly for a while, the horse's hooves beating out a steady cadence on the ground, beckoning for her to give herself up to the dream world. She was all too aware of the hunk of a man barely an arm's length from her. She could reach out and run her fingers through that beautiful black hair. She could catch his scent on the cool night air, causing her to breathe deeply and almost sigh. He smelled of the sea, a clean but salty musk that burned deep in her belly.
After chewing on her lip until it bled, Makoto chanced aggravating her captors to find out why she was in this position. "So, although this stroll is awfully lovely, where exactly are we heading?" Makoto held her breath, hoping her question wouldn't elicit any harm to herself. The man on the horse tensed, whispering something that sounded angry. The man next to her grunted, as if he heard him. Turning to face her, he spoke. "You are to keep quiet and not cause trouble. What we need of you doesn't require you to be in the best of shape. A broken arm wouldn't hinder you in the least. If you do ask we ask, you are free to go after we get what we need. Haru," he jerked his head to the man on the horse, "is not to be spoken to. Only speak if he asks you a question." Makoto scoffed then, crossing her arms as anger burned away any last trace of lust. "And what if I have a question of him?" Makoto was very rarely ill, but she wasn't able to keep the scorn from lacing her words.
She was a butterfly and kittens kinda woman, but she had learned several years ago to stand up for herself and it was a lesson she refused to forget. She saw Haru tense again, as if a man could squeeze every trace of relaxation and happiness from his body. The tower of a man laughed! Makoto stared at him in disbelief. He laughed! What audacity! Gripping the side of the wagon, brushing her arm with his huge hand, he fought to bring himself under control. "If only we didn't need the pretty mouth I'd have sewn it shut for speaking such a way! No wonder people whisper of black magic when your name leaves their mouths. A lady would never speak out in such a way. It seems you and I will have fun on this trip," he managed to squeeze out past his gulping breaths of air.
Makoto's resolve crumbled at that. She shrunk her shoulders in, the air leaving her body. Makoto fought to keep tears from spilling over in her eyes. Hugging herself now, she lowered her head and decided to keep her mouth shut. The man beside her scoffed, shaking his head at her sudden change of heart. "The weak have no place in this world. If you need me, you are to address me as Souske, no more, no less," his voice rumbled as he walked back to his place beside the horse.
Makoto was shivering now, from the cold or the terror of her situation, she didn't know. The man's eyes had caused her to forget the momentous danger she was in. Or the bathroot. The foul drug had many side effects, some permanent if you were not of good health. Makoto hugged herself closer, leaning her head on her knees, grateful she was dressed in breeches at the moment. Her boots were also of good quality, as well as her tunic. She tended to sleep in her clothes with a bag packed, just in case she was to be chased out of town. She remembered a time when was a bright little girl, easily hurt but loved everything and everyone. After her parents had left, she had hardened into what she thought was a tough women.
Makoto finally dosed, Souske's smell lulling her into sleep, despite her sudden hate for both of them. When she awoke, it was around mid afternoon. Souske and Haru were untethering the horse at a small barn beside a rundown cabin. Surrounded on all sides by trees, Makoto had no sense of where they were. Shivering despite the winter sun, she stretched her long 5 foot 8 inch frame, wincing at the knots in her back. Stepping over the side to jump to the ground, landing with a thud, she decided it was time to empty her bladder.
"Uh, Souske? May I relieve myself?" Makoto called, gently as to not make them mad. If she wanted to survive, she needed to use her wits. Souske grunted and she took it as a yes. Waddling over to a thick brush, she squatted to do her business. Makoto almost moaned out loud, the natural sensation causing pleasure to burn in her belly again as well as the cool winter's air hitting her exposed area. Staying that way for a moment, breathing hard, Makoto prayed that it would pass. When she heard boots crunching snow, she jerked up, pulling her breeches up. "Now, I'm not an ass Makoto. Don't think you can fool us," Souske rumbled. Makoto walked out, almost running into his chest.
Taking a quick step back, Makoto peered up into those gorgeous eyes. The pleasure in her belly refused to burn out. Souske smirked at her slack-jawed expression. "If only I was as handsome as you are imagining me at this moment. I hate to break it to you, but bathroot will do that to ya," he chuckled, his eyes crinkling on the corners. Makoto blushed, mumbling something under her breath about the insolence of men as she stalked passed him into the cabin.