A whip crack of apparition and Hermione's feet hit hard rocky earth, jolting her tightly against Greyback's frame. The violent twisting of magic, especially to Hermione's magic deprived body, disturbed something within her and she promptly vomited the little food she did have inside her stomach all down her front and over Greyback's hands. She spat the taste from her mouth.
Greyback shook the vomit from his fingers. "No bother, darling." He growled, seemingly unphased by the extremely unpleasant smell.
Hermione heard a wolf whistle from some feet away and she looked up toward the sound, suddenly realising she was in some forest camp, 6 or 7 small tents surrounding a fire where 13 men sat on camp chairs, cushions or pieces of log. All eyes were on her and Greyback. One man, roughly middle-aged with dark black hair, grunted and stood. "Where did you pick this up, Alpha?"
He walked over toward where they stood and Hermione shook.
"Brought you all a snack-"
"NO!" Hermione screamed, shaking with rage and fear in Greyback's grasp.
Greyback shook with a silent laughter, "but sweetheart. We never got properly acquainted last time, did we?" He took a deep whiff of her neck. "I was right. You still smell so delicious." He growled into her ear.
She struggled out of his grasp. "Don't touch me, you foul monster! Don't touch me!" She screamed and insulted them, trying to hit or strike out at them wherever she could but Greyback quickly held her elbows together behind her and lifted her off the ground, effectively immobilising her. Still Hermione screamed, trying to kick him in the knee or hopefully in the balls. She tried to be loud, to be difficult to attack. She wanted to make a scene, maybe then they'd be discouraged from actually eating her.
Greyback dodged one fairly hefty blow aimed at his crotch and whistled lowly. "Won't be taking those shackles off for a while." He brought her closer then and quickly sunk all five fingernails of his right hand into her stomach, winding her. "There. Quieten the fuck down." He growled in frustration.
The other men started to move toward them, fairly interested in Greyback's new prize. He threw her against a tree and Hermione cried out at the fresh wounds grating against the bark through her t-shirt. Fresh tears rolled over her lashes, following their well-worn path down her cheeks. Greyback came up behind her once again and leant his weight into her, pressing her cheek, chest and stomach against the trunk and letting her feel the obvious bulge in his trousers.
He growled a sick sort of laughter into her ear and licked her.
"She's the golden girl isn't she? The Dark Lord gave her to you?" The black-haired man asked.
She felt Greyback grunt and nod and looked up at the other men around her for some sort of mercy. She was sorry to see some of them were already palming themselves through their clothes and were looking far too beastly to care about her.
The other man came closer, leaning in to sniff her neck. She whimpered in pure fear and desperately wished by some miracle they'd just decide to leave her alone but she knew that was wishful thinking to say the least. She sobbed into the tree as the black-haired man beside her stroked a finger down her cheek, then pulled her top down to bare her breasts, as small as they were now.
He looked at Greyback. "There's barely anything to her, Alpha."
Greyback just grunted. "Knife." He panted out. His breathing was becoming more ragged behind her and she looked briefly over her shoulder to see his fangs were elongated and his eyes glowing a frightful amber. Hermione panicked, was he turning? Was it even the full moon tonight?
Amidst her panicking the black-haired man had taken a knife out of Greyback's jacket and awoke Hermione from her frozen anxiety by ripping straight through her t shirt with it. The men surrounding her were all getting more and more antsy now, following quickly behind Fenrir in how beastly they became. She felt Greyback's claws slice into her thighs as he tried to shred her trousers down her legs. Some of the other men started to grope her breasts and stomach, trying to lay hands on any inch of skin they could. She screamed and cursed at them but they ignored her.
Greyback had gotten her trousers down to just below her bum and Hermione started kicking out at him erratically, catching him in the shin. He roared in fury behind her and threw her to the ground. She rolled over in time to see him pounce onto her. She screamed as his hand came up to hold her throat to the ground, strangling her noise out of the air. He rummaged around in his trousers for a moment, trying to shove them out of his way despite his elongated claws catching in clothing and making it difficult.
Hermione felt her eyes water and his cock align with her entrance, thick and hard and warm. She closed her eyes and stilled.
His panting stopped suddenly and she felt him stiffen above her. She opened her eyes and saw Greyback looking up at something ahead of him, the other men too were looking in the same direction. Hermione hadn't heard the careful ahem in her dizzied, half-choked state but the others had.
Greyback slowly released his grip of her throat and she took in a huge breath, coughing thoroughly. She was coming to the realisation that if Greyback hadn't have stopped, she might have died in moments.
He got up off of her slowly, his movements calculated and tender, the wolf not wishing to startle his prey. Hermione, shaking, followed his eyeline to see what had narrowly saved her.
For a split second, Hermione thought she was seeing Bellatrix Lestrange at the door of the far tent, but as her blurred vision came into focus, she realised that this woman was much shorter. Like Bellatrix, she had a mass of black curls atop her head however hers were slightly sun-bleached brown and somewhat matted in places. Like Bellatrix, this woman was of east Asian descent with a sharp glare and full lips. Her skin was far darker than Bellatrix's and her frame more muscular. Perhaps the most notable difference was the protruding pregnant belly that was not quite hidden by her knit jumper. Bellatrix certainly didn't have that. The resemblance was uncanny, this woman just appeared to be what Mrs. Lestrange might have looked like had she been a healthy, sun-kissed young woman.
Greyback moved over her once again, his glowing eyes still trained on this unknown woman. She disappeared back inside the far tent before he stepped over Hermione, looking once to the man with the black hair. He huffed like a bull through flared nostrils and stalked after the woman with long strides.
The pack watched Greyback, too, disappear into the far tent. Hermione looked around the men, some of them seemed to be more cognisant and decidedly more human than moments before.
The man with the black hair looked back to her and walked over to her. He pulled her up unceremoniously and withdrew his wand. "Alohamora" he muttered, and she felt the shackles open and fall off her wrists.
Before she could utter a thank you, he started to pinch and pull on her breasts again. The fight renewed within her and she screwed up her face, screaming at him. "Get off, you sick bastard! Get off!"
He didn't seem to enjoy her pain and struggle quite as much as Fenrir did, in fact he seemed rather annoyed by it. Hermione kept it up, hoping to disinterest him and the others. With her hands now free she lashed out behind at him, trying to rake her short nails into his face, kicking and screaming at him to leave her alone.
He growled in frustration. "Help me hold her down. I'll mount her." His voice was devoid of both empathy and cruelty and Hermione knotted her hands into fists. She punched the first guy in arms reach in the head, clawing at a second's neck. By the time the third man approached her, they had learnt to grab her hands and arms first. Two men held her arms still and helped the black-haired man holding her to drag her closer to the fire. She kicked and screamed, scratches and bruises starting to mottle her skin. She was determined to make this as difficult as possible for them. Perhaps after the fact, she'd think her resilience were for Harry and Ron or for her parents, but in reality she was fighting purely for herself, for her right to survive.
The men bent her arms back behind her and held them tightly across her back. Two men made quick work of her shoes and socks and, before long, the black-haired man had her thrown over one of the logs around the fire. He pulled her trousers down the rest of the way. "Get them out of the way," he ordered a younger man. She whimpered loudly, trying to stop them but she felt hands encase her legs and hold her down.
Behind her, the black-haired man unzipped himself and pulled his cock out of his jeans and before she could scream again, she felt him fill her to the hilt.
Despite avid snogging and the upper body molestation from Krum in her fourth year, she had never had the pleasure of sex before. She had never been ready or the time wasn't right with the war going on and now she felt the full force of that inexperience inside her. Her entrance burned with pain and she was sure something was torn. She cried so much, her snot and drool creating an ugly pool on her lip.
The black-haired man let out a satisfied ahh as he buried his cock in her. "Warm," He whispered. He then started to move his hips, his weight covering her back. He grunted into her hair and was quickly pistoning his cock in and out of her.
The other men were fascinated, groping and pinching her nipples and helping to keep her in place but at this point she had given up fighting. She couldn't move the beast on top of her any better than she could go back and win the war.
She raked her fingernails through the wet earth beneath her, trying to keep the pain at bay. His cock filled her again and again, dragging dry against her torn flesh and winding her at every thrust. After a few minutes of being used, some of the other men started to get their dick out and jerk themselves off. One younger man had his dick in his hand as he sniffed and licked at her neck. Some just sat on the other side of the fire to watch.
Her tears renewed on her cheeks when she could feel herself starting to get wet, her vagina becoming slick with her own fluids. The relief it brought her from the pain was beautiful and Hermione was so grateful for less friction in her burning sex. The black-haired man felt her fluids too and his thrusts became more erratic, humping her like a dog and grunting fervidly on top of her. Now his cock was bottoming out against her cervix and Hermione grit her teeth to get through the pain of it.
The man buried himself inside her once more and became very tense before she felt a wash of warm fluid flood her insides. He stayed inside her for several minutes as the stream of semen lessened, breathing and panting heavily. He eventually pulled his now soft cock out of her and stood to watch the semen drip. He licked his lips and did up his trousers, sitting down on one of the camp chairs and took a deep swig of the hip flask leaning up against the chair leg. Hermione closed her eyes and didn't move from her place on the log.
Hermione woke very naturally to the golden light of day casting a warm glow through the shield of the tent wall. Her eyelashes fluttered open and her warm brown eyes took in her surroundings. She stretched her toes and tensed, a sudden pain shooting through her groin and abdomen.
The men had taken turns on her well into the night. The black-haired man had several goes between the others and Hermione's stomach was scratched raw from the friction of the bark beneath her, the puncture wounds Greyback had given her had started to scab once they left her stomach alone. Her cheeks felt dry and tight from where her tears lay crusted onto her skin and she moved a hand up to her face and wiped away the sticky mess in her eyes, blinking until her vision focused. She had a man's large coat wrapped around her and, on top of that, a knit blanket. It was surprisingly soft for what Hermione had known of wool.
She bundled herself into her blankets and stared blankly around the tent. It was a wizarding tent, a large space with an open flap that, when closed, would separate the bedroom from the rest of the open space. There was a small table and chair in one corner and a comfier brown bean bag opposite it. Beside the bean bag were two boxes of different material and sizes and from what Hermione could see, they contained books and scrolls. On the other side of the tent were several more of these mismatched boxes stacked haphazardly on top of each other and beside each other. The occupant kept a lot of things but didn't seem to care much for décor. This tent was a practical residence, clearly.
Hermione herself was lay on top of several cushions and more blankets on the floor and, looking above her, she could see was lay at the foot of a bed. She sat up, resting backwards on her hands and stared around some more. She was exhausted and she didn't know where she was. She half wished she were dead and half wish she could continue sleeping, maybe forever. The commitment of death seemed too much but at least sleep offered her a break.
Tears stung her eyes and her lip wobbled. She was utterly damaged. She let her heart waver for a few moments before she was interrupted by someone entering the tent. The black-haired man caught sight of her awake and stared. "Ah good, you're awake."
She stared in horror at him, her attacker, her rapist. A million emotions threatened to overcome her at once at the sight of him and memories of the night before. "Don't come anywhere near me." Her voice was no more than a whisper. Her body, exhausted and used, couldn't seem to cope with much more.
"Calm down, pet. I've had my fill of you for now," he said, rather matter-of-factly. He squatted down at the many boxes and picked out some vials and something wrapped several times in what looked like grease-proof paper, pocketing bits and moving bits about. This was clearly his tent with all of his belongings. He looked up at her after a moment. "You're hungry, I bet."
"Where am I?" she asked, finding more resolve now. She hated him and she wanted him to know just by the tone of her voice.
He smirked slightly. "Forest of Dean at the moment. But more specifically, you're in my tent so watch your tone."
Hermione was livid and she flared her nostrils. "You have no right-"
"No right?" He stood and got closer to her. "This is my tent. You've been given warmth and healing and fucking shelter in the rain last night. I'm in charge here so pipe the fuck down and behave." He growled at her, standing over her. "You'd think you'd have learned by now. I'd heard you were intelligent but clearly not." He bent down by her and she flinched as his fingers touched her ankle. He held her ankle still and keyed open the shackle that she didn't notice was binding her to the foot of the bed.
He pulled out his wand from his coat pocket and drew circles around her wrists, a light blue tendril of magic wrapping around them and binding them together. She looked up at him with steel anger. He just raised in eyebrow in a silent challenge.
The man was very composed it seemed. He was logical about what he did and practical. He didn't at all seem to have any sort of moral compass getting in the way of what he did, after all he had raped her several times the night before. But there was no outward cruelty or sadism about him like there was with Greyback.
Greyback. She was in Greyback's camp. Where was he? What was he planning for her? She looked over the black-haired man's shoulder as if Greyback would come waltzing through the tent flap any minute now.
The man in front of her followed her line of vision to the tent flap, seeming to cop her fear. "You're alone for now. I have the privilege of not having to bunk with the other idiots. Besides they're all plenty satisfied." He paused after a moment, and stood to his feet. He walked over to the boxes and lifted some off the top, pulling out some eggs and some more paper wrapped parcels from the ones beneath. "You're a virgin. Or you were. You must be feeling some pain."
Hermione narrowed her eyes in hate. She was furious she hadn't been the one to decide when she would lose her virginity. She was furious he could tell she was a virgin. She was absolutely fucking livid that he had the audacity to talk to her about pain. Oh, if she had her wand he'd be fucked.
At her silence, he turned to face her. "Well? Pain?"
"None of your business." She ground out, wanting to take back the control she once had over her body.
He huffed in annoyance, turned and leant back against the box to address her. "I am a trained healer. I have an inventory of things that might be able to help you, with Alpha's permission. So if you ever care to stop being a brat, I'll sort out the ache between your legs and the one behind your eyes." He folded his arms across his chest.
She hadn't even noticed her headache and now she was annoyed he seemed to know more about her body than even she did. She furrowed her brow in frustration and thought. Werent they all werewolves? Certainly no healer could train without graduating from Hogwarts and Lupin had been the only werewolf to ever attend. She looked at him. "I call bullshit."
He sighed. "I have to help you, its Alpha's orders. If I wanted to poison you, I couldn't."
"Not that. You're not a healer. You're lying."
He smiled genuinely then, seemingly amused. "I'll give you that. I never did graduate but I did complete my training with St. Mungo's and, more importantly, I can help."
A silence hung between them for a few moments.
The man licked his teeth. "How about we talk about this over breakfast, hm?"
Hermione couldn't stop her breath from hitching at the sound of breakfast. God, she was hungry. "No. I don't need your food."
He rolled his eyes. "Now you're just being an idiot. I ran some tests on you this morning. You're severely underweight and malnourished, you are borderline anaemic and very susceptible to getting seriously ill in this environment."
She was becoming very frustrated with him but she couldn't get a word in to shut him up.
"You're immune system is pretty devastated, it's a miracle you've survived this far. Come, lets get some food into you before you keel."
"Bu-"
"But nothing! Your body has been through trauma." He snapped at her, reminding her somewhat of McGonagall when she was right and annoyed. "Let me guess, you've stopped bleeding?"
That shut her right up. It was true, thinking back she hadn't had a period since she was on the run with Ron and Harry. Whilst she hadn't noticed – too busy with bigger problems – thinking back it had been about two months since she did.
"Mhmm," he nodded. "Exactly. So shut up and accept the help I give you." He pushed himself off the boxes and headed for the door of the tent. "Clean clothes are in the dresser beside the bed. Join us for breakfast." And with that he was gone.
Finally, alone in the silence of the tent, she felt an emptiness in her heart and her mind. Her eyes watered and she no longer kept back the tears. This was healthy. She was 'traumatised' after all. Crying was her right. After everything that had happened she wanted to fight and cry and scream and break and kill. Gone were the days of mercy, she wanted people dead and she knew who. She wanted her attackers to feel pain.
After a few minutes her tears subsided, almost sooner than she had wanted but she couldn't force any more of them out despite her trying, so she used to soft wool blanket to wipe her eyes and cheeks. She stood, her legs shaking. The ache between them grew with the movement, more so than the ache in her heart and it distracted her from the ficcle tears. She reached down and touched her vagina very softly, afraid of the pain. It was wet and she didn't need to look to know there was some blood still drying.
She looked around the tent, moving to the dresser where the clothes sat. She opened the top drawer and found socks and a few pairs of men's underwear. She dug through the drawer and eventually found a soft enough cloth. She looked around again and headed for the boxes, rummaging around in them until she found a full glass bottle. She unstopped it and sniffed it carefully, smelling nothing obviously concerning.
She took a deep breath and decided to chance it, wetting the cloth with it and steeling herself to rub it ever so gently against her torn flesh. It didn't sting like she thought it would, just a dull, bruising ache. When she was clean as she could bother to be, she threw the cloth on the blankets she woke up in and made her way back to the dresser.
She looked at the clothes in front of her, half expecting some sort of Princess Leia Golden Bikini, complete with matching 'sexy chains'. She was pleasantly surprised and somewhat suspicious of the dark green polo shirt and plain grey gym leggings. There were thick boot socks, too large for her and a distinct absence of underwear.
She pulled the clothes on, taking some time to button the three buttons of the polo shirt and sniffing the collar. It smelt clean, faintly feminine and like perfume washed away. The leggings were too loose around her scrawny waist so she wound the waistband down to keep them up. She noticed they were loose around the backs of her knees too but they were comfy and clean and she started to feel less like human waste.
After pulling the thick woollen socks over her ankles and up to her calves, Hermione headed for the door of the tent. She opened the flap subtly, getting a look at what was out there. She saw several men walking about the clearing, some dipping in and out of tents, but most were sat around the firepit, talking and eating. She opened the tent further and found the black-haired man in the centre of the circle dishing out bacon from a tray suspended above the fire.
He looked up to her as she took a step out of his tent and beckoned her over with his hand. She stepped very slowly into the circle of chairs and didn't look at anyone but the black-haired man. He turned, forked several slices of cooked bacon onto a metal plate and handed it to her. "Eggs should be ready soon."
She held the plate, her stomach doing flips at the smell of the bacon snaking up into her nose. She looked around to find some staring at her, feeling the crushing weight of their gazes on her. Most of the men, however, were too busy eating or drinking or cleaning or whatever to even pay attention to her but the few that did watch her made her feel naked. She hated this. It disgusted her and she decided that they would not affect her.
"Clothes fit alright?"
Hermione jumped out of her skin at the voice suddenly appearing behind her. She whipped around and came face to chest with Greyback. He chuckled at her and clutched the back of her neck, steering her towards a camp chair. He pushed her down to sit on the floor and sat himself in the chair. "You'll want to eat. We've got ground to cover today and your skinny little legs aren't going to hold you up for much of it, 'specially if the boys get bored." He laughed quietly to himself. She didn't find it funny.
She picked up a strip of well cooked, fatty bacon in her fingers and took a bite. Her lips sung in ecstasy and she scoffed more of it in her mouth. She ate ravenously, her desperation for a real meal overcoming her and before long she felt Greyback's paw rest ontop of her nest of matted hair. He lent in next to her, "you're going to chuck that back up if you eat like that."
She nodded silently, and slowed her bites and savouring the juice meaty flavour. His hand disappeared off her head and she glared up at him. He took a swig of a large metal bottle of water, none the wiser.
"No no, you do the eggs, they're horrific."
Hermione looked up toward the centre of the clearing where the black-haired man and the woman she saw yesterday were cooking the breakfast. Hermione had completely forgotten about the woman from last night. She watched her from her place on the dirty forest floor. The woman stood and covered her mouth and nose, not looking at the eggs in the tray in front of her. "Anders, I swear. You need to sort that because I can't."
The black-haired man – Anders – sighed, "It's not that bad, you've fried eggs before. I've watched you do it."
The woman rolled her eyes at Anders' turned back and Hermione inwardly laughed. This woman seemed to feel similarly toward the man to Hermione. She watched the woman bend over above the eggs once more, turn a positively green colour, and then hold her mouth as she ran for the trees. Greyback stood up and caught her as she ran past him, bending her over gently and holding back the web of curls on her head as she vomited on the floor. He held her pregnant belly and let her hair go to rub up her back. She wretched once more and then stood, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
Greyback walked her back to the camp chair and sat her down in it. Hermione couldn't believe her eyes. He was being gentle with her, nothing at all like the purely animal look in his eye last night as he shredded Hermione's clothes or chased after this pregnant woman in favour of Hermione. She watched him kick some dirt over the vomit on the floor and hand her his flask of water.
After she took a sip, she smiled flatly. "I'm fine. Blame Anders and his fucking eggs."
Greyback raised a brow and looked over to Anders now plating fried eggs and handing them out.
The woman got up from the chair.
"Where do you think you're going?" He put a hand out and caught her jaw, testing his claw against the softness of her cheek. The changes in the way he handled this woman was giving Hermione whiplash.
"Just to lie down, I promise."
He hesitated a moment before letting her go, turning to watch her walk into the larger tent in the site. He turned back then and looked down at Hermione, "where are your shoes?"
She swallowed a bite of bacon. "Anders didn't give me any. I just had these," she said, wiggling her socked toes. She paused for a moment. "Are they hers?" She gestured down at the clothes she was now wearing.
Greyback looked at her with a dead set stare, summing her up, calculating her intentions. "Do you think they'd fit her?"
Hermione bit off another piece of her bacon. "I think they might have, before she was pregnant."
He growled and ripped the plate out of her hand, threw it on the floor, grabbed her by the throat and lifted her off her the earth. "Watch your tone." He growled, his tone suddenly cautious.
She breathed threw the hand holding her neck. "I didn't say anything wrong! She is pregnant, isn't she?"
He huffed and let her fall back to her bum. She rubbed her neck and glared at him. He hadn't choked her but his grip was certainly rough and it left an irritation on her skin. "You fucking watch yourself, whore." He growled, close to her face. "You wouldn't be the first person I delimb." He smiled crookedly and disgustingly, reminding her of some horrific love child of the Cheshire cat and the Big Bad Wolf.
She looked away, hating that she was afraid of him but she was.
He stood then, towering over her for a moment and then left, disappearing off into the trees. Hermione didn't much care what for. She stared ruefully at her bacon on the floor, covered in dirt. She started to consider eating it anyway but she was interrupted.
"Let the forest have them, your treat."
She looked back up and saw Anders. She rolled her eyes.
He sat down on the floor next to her and handed her a plate of more bacon and some fried eggs. She took it and glared at him, confused as to why he took the floor over the perfectly comfy camp chair right next to him.
"That's Alpha's seat." He explained, catching her eye. "You wouldn't catch any of this lot in it. And he shouldn't catch you in it either," he warned. "He is sensitive about Aanka. Tread carefully around them."
"Aanka? Is that her name?" She asked.
He nodded. "Aanka Greyback."
"He has a sister?" She blurted out.
"Wife." He corrected around his food.
"He's married?!" She blurted out. At his warning look, she spoked more quietly. "Sorry. Just didn't ever picture Fenrir Greyback as a homemaker."
He chuckled quietly. "Don't mistake him for one. He is a wolf with a bitch, not a homemaker."
She made a purely disgusted face at his language and complete disrespect for Greyback's wife but he didn't seem to notice. "Is she a slave to you all too?" She asked, her tone heated.
"Don't be ridiculous. She's a shewolf. One of us. And believe me, Alpha doesn't share."
The way he talked about women like they were property was obviously something Hermione had heard of but had never fully encountered in her life and she didn't quite know how to respond. She had never actually met someone who regarded women as a thing to posess, at least not as explicitly as this. Perhaps later she would think of something witty but as she stared at him with disgust she didn't want to engage with it. "So I need to be a werewolf to get better treatment then." She muttered, acknowledging the irony of such a sentiment.
"Mmm." He agreed. "But that won't be happening. Alpha can't ensure you'll survive the bite so he can't exactly take the risk."
"Why wouldn't I survive?" She was confused. Remus had never mentioned it being lethal, and she'd certainly never heard of the bite alone killing someone.
"Well," he explained, chewing on some bacon. "The bite sometimes does just completely destroy the system. Wizards tend to do better than muggles but that's not a rule. Women, on the other hand… they rarely make it, witch and muggle girl alike." He finished off the bacon and started licking his lips. "When you're done eating, you'll be cleaning up with James." He nodded at a younger, mixed race man who was still eating and talking with some others.
She furrowed her brow, not understanding so much she thought she knew. She shook her head of his subject change. "Why don't women survive the bite?"
"Well some do, Aanka's certainly still kicking." He gave a look as to say he had seen her kicking plenty. He shrugged. "No one knows really. Just a phenomenon among our kind. Bitches are rare."
He stood, chucking his metal plate onto a pile by the firepit that was no longer burning.
"Eat up and get cleaning."
Anders walked off in the same direction Greyback had and now she was alone. She hated this. Everything was so decided and unknown to her. She twisted her hands slowly, feeling the weight of the magical shackles around her wrists, binding her to god knows what. She was dead set on escape. She'd flee the country and be done with all of this war. Maybe find her parents. Maybe be okay.
She looked down at the bacon and eggs in her lap, still warm and dripping fat. She'd eat and then she'd think about escape.