Warning: This chapter contains mild descriptions of sexual assault and general violence.


Chapter 3 - A Natural Weapon

"Um...," I stared at Thrin as he sobbed at my feet. I cautiously looked around me, wondering if that was the best possible time to just make a run for it. I took one step back, but my captor didn't seem to notice. This is it, I told myself.

I bolted to my left, passing bushes and running downhill. I was barefoot and wearing a hide wrap as a skirt, but at least my bra was keeping my ample breasts from bouncing too much while I run. Too soon, I felt my lungs beginning to burn in the cold evening air. I thought my best chances were to find a hiding place and hope the barbarian cult didn't care to look for me.

I couldn't see anything that looked familiar. Trees, rocks, bushes, flowers, a dirt road. It could have been my dig site surroundings, but I saw no sign of the crew's tents, nor the fence around the site, nor our equipment. Up ahead I saw a clearing and heard the sound of thunder. I ran toward the sound - what I thought was thunder was a raging river. Aided by the moonlight I could see the rapids and fierce current. I couldn't find a way across, and I didn't feel like getting swept up in what was likely an ice-cold torrent. I panicked, turned to look from where I had come, but no one was following me. I let out a sigh of relief, allowing myself a moment to catch my breath.

That's when the shouts came.

"Tille!" I heard a man's voice shout. I looked up the hill and sure enough a barbarian was charging down, torch in one hand and sword in the other, with other barbarians following.

Fucking run! I ordered myself.

I ran to my right, following the river, dodging the occasional tree and bush. The tightness in my chest and my out-of-shape body were not helping my escape, but I might have gotten away were it not for me crashing into a hulking figure that ambushed me from behind a tree.

I screamed. I kicked. I did my best to get away from the hands that grasped my body, but I was pushed to the cold ground. When I heard the snarl, I thought, great, the barbarians are sicking their dog on me before they have a go. I was being pinned down by my ambusher's foot. The man was heavy, very heavy, and I thought I felt a rib crack. I inhaled sharply with the new pain and clawed at the dirt, trying at least to scramble onto my back. Not knowing who was attacking me, not knowing what was coming next made everything worse.

The shouting of the advancing barbarians grew louder, and the snarling more insistent, fearful even. The weight on my back increased and I felt tiny spikes enter my flesh through my shirt. A wooshing sound soon followed. Again and again. Woosh, sploosh. Woosh, sploosh. The muted sounds of impacts into what I guessed was flesh came from directly above me. The weight on my back lessened and I was able to crawl away from whoever was standing on me. I pushed myself to my feet and ran as fast I could with what was surely a broken rib, but was caught by another man.

I was being squeezed by this new captor's massive arms. The sharp pain in my side was unbearable and my breath was stilled. He grabbed me by my hair which was still pulled back in what must have been by then a horrendously messy ponytail. He dragged me back to where the first ambusher attacked me. I was thrown once again to the ground, this time next to a large mass of fur. In the brief seconds that followed I strained to see in the torchlight what sort of animal the fur belonged to. Something about its head seemed odd. Before I could get a good look I was grabbed by my waist and dragged backwards a small distance. I tried to kick but any movement sent my side into a fiery rage. I felt hands slide under my makeshift skirt and fingers touch me in places they shouldn't have been touching. I cried for whoever was behind me to stop. I squirmed as much as I could without causing the pain in my side to stop my breath, but when more sets of hands grabbed my arms, I knew struggling was futile. I sobbed, and waited to be raped.

"Helta!" a voice called out from some distance away. The movement behind me stopped and more men's shouts were exchanged. I squirmed again in an attempt to get away but was held by my arms and hips.

Angry words were exchanged between I guessed the man about to rape me and whoever had just come from somewhere to my left. I thought I heard my name spoken several times with an angry tone, and then I realized the man who had come from my left was Thrin. The way he said my name was odd, but with all the shouting and whatever local accent he had I didn't think anything of it.

The man behind me with his hands grasping my hips laughed, said my name oddly too, and then said more words which made several of his companions laugh. I felt fingers prodding inside me again and I wailed in protest. My hair was yanked roughly backwards and a hand clamped over my mouth.

People are always told that rape victims should never blame themselves, no matter the circumstance. But in the moment I couldn't help but wonder what would have happened had I just stayed by my momentarily bewildered captor Thrin, who had made no indication of the desire to rape or harm me in any way. Just the opposite, actually. Aside from keeping me in restraints, he was practically benevolent. My gut instinct had been to stay with him, but instead of staying, I had seen an opening for my escape and I took it. I always had a bad habit of second-guessing my instincts.

With a large hand pressed to my mouth, I could barely breathe. I heard more shouts – Thrin's, I guessed – and then a metallic swoosh. My thoughts fired in every direction. I wondered what that weird animal was. I wondered why Thrin reacted so oddly when I said my name. I wondered why these people had swords and not guns. Techno-phobes. Raping, smelly, techno-phobes. I imagined Thrin wielding a sword and killing my rapist, but only more angry words were exchanged.

The futility of the situation and my beaten spirit were quickly replaced with the desire to kill everyone around me. I growled, surely vibrating whoever's hand was over my mouth. I imagined myself bolting upright from my hands and knees, taking painful swings at whoever dared restrain me, biting down on the throat of the man behind me and ripping out his flesh with my teeth. I remained on all fours, however, and my body began to shake. The growl that hard started from somewhere deep within me had increased in volume and became a muted roar.

The moment I felt a man's most natural weapon enter me without my consent, I felt my skin rip apart in an explosion of systemic pain. Every nerve ending in my body burst. I screamed, louder than I ever remembered screaming. The palms of my hands felt as if they were on fire. I was oblivious to the growing din around me. I felt the invader's presence vanish suddenly and inexplicably from my hips and my loins, and with every ounce of energy I could muster I pushed myself onto my knees.

The next moments were a complete blur, and my actions pure reflex.

My screams were unending. White-hot light shot forth from my hands and sent the men holding my arms crashing to their backs several meters away. I stood tall and assaulted anyone else around me, sparing no one. Screams and groans and shouts followed. When a man's voice bellowed my name with that strange pronunciation, the light from my hands vanished, and the pain in my side returned with a vengeance.

I sank to my knees and clung to my side, struggling to breath. I lifted my other hand and stared wide-eyed at the normal, unharmed pale flesh, wondering what had just happened. The last memory I had of that evening before losing consciousness was staring up at the night sky, willing the trees to stop spinning, and finally collapsing onto my back and seeing double. My vision had gotten worse – I was seeing two of everything. I even saw two moons.