The hooded man that lead her had a long deliberate stride, and she needed more steps than he to cover the same distance.
She no longer resisted now. He spoke Wraith. And that was enough to, at least subconsciously, demand obedience. They were already outside city limits before it dawned upon her, that it was possible that he did not really speak Wraith, but only knew the one word she heard him say underneath the sandstone archway. She clicked her tongue at her own stupidity.
They had spent the remainder of the evening making purchases at the market. The hooded figure purchased everything from food, to tools, and things she didn't even know the names of. Naturally she was made to carry it. Well half of it anyway. He had her carry his rucksack. It had clips on the shoulder straps, which allowed him to put it on her back without untying her hands. He himself carried a simpler bag, stuffed with a few of the more fragile items he had bought.
A sigh escaped her. First a slave, and now also a mule. She loather her existence and searched for possible ways of escape, but realized that she was too exhausted, tired and above all too hungry to entertain any more thoughts of freedom. She observed instead her captor whose back shot up like a wall in front of her. He wore heavy black boots, and a dark long coat with hood, that swung from side to side as he walked. Gloves occluded his hands.
Her stomach grumbled with hunger, and reminded her all to physically, that she hadn't eaten a proper meal in days.
If only she wasn't bound, she thought. Reaching behind her she could just barely get a finger under the flap of the backpack. She could feel the apples through the cloth bag they were in, but with her hands tied the way they were, found it impossible to undo the cord that held it shut. Frustrated she dropped her hands in front of her.
"I'm hungry." she implored her captor. It was worth a try, but the man ignored her. Evidently he couldn't understand her.
She fiddled with her ropes once more... A futile waste of time.
She contemplated simply falling over in protest, but realized, that the man, with his massive build, was liable to drag her to wherever he was going. Instead she first tugged half-hearted at the rope and when the man ignored her again, stopped in protest, planting her feet in the sand. The rope tightened.
He gave it a hearty tug, and sent her colliding with his backside. She let out a yelp in surprise, but swallowed it midway. His strength was inhuman.
So much for that! There was more underneath that cloak than just his back she thought, rubbing her forehead. Leather armer no-doubt.
Her focus moved to his bag, where a stitch had come undone. She remembered the order in which the cloaked man had packed his purchases into the bag. They had just bought dried meat and apples that he had then put in his bag. Before leaving the market some glass ornaments peaked her captors interest. He haggled with the street vendor who didn't seem to want to part with the strange thing. Her captor eventually succeeded. Dismantling the wind-chime, if that's what it was, and carefully wrapping the parts in foil before placing them in his bag. The apples, in the process, got moved to the backpack. It meant however that in the bag in-front of her. Just behind the loose stitch there were loose strips of dried meat... and 'wind-chime' parts.
Her mouth filled with drool as she came up with a plan. She timed her movements tightly. With every step of her captor she took one also, then another to make up for the difference in stride, each time picking at the loose stitching with her index finger. It required damn near all the concentration she could muster at the moment, but the stitches were rough, wide and unravelled with ease. After only two stitches she could see a piece of meat through the opening. To her luck it was oriented in just the right way and now all she had to do was stealthily extract it. She waited patiently for a gust of wind, an uneven part in the road, anything that could hide the movement.
A gust of wind passed by, kicking up the dust and sand. Squinting through her left eye, she pulled out the sliver of meat as the sand buffeted the both of them. She almost dropped it before reaching her mouth. Success had never tasted so good, and she savoured every bite. She'd finish the meat, and then inform her captor of the tear in his bag. He wouldn't notice one missing piece, and her attentiveness would garner some form of kindness from him.
She wondered were they were going. There were only sand dunes as far as she could see. There had been little else since she got to this god-forsaken world. That, mud huts and smelly merchants. She observed a dune absent-mindedly as she chewed on the meat. It had a juiciness to it, but required a little work to separate and chew.
She wasn't paying much attention, and collided with the hooded man, who had stopped abruptly. With a high pitched "Oooff" she fell into the hot sand, still holding the unfinished sliver of meat in her hands. Her forehead told her once more, that his back was harder than it should be.
They had stopped in-front of a gate. He pressed on the controls, and turned as it dialled.
He noticed the piece of meat, she noticed that he noticed, and quickly stuffed it in her face. For a moment they stood eyeing each other, and the dialling sequence ended, sending the puddle plooming from gate.
She pointed awkwardly to the rip in the bag which he had swung from his shoulder.
Her plan backfired.
"Thief" he shunned her matter of factually. So he knew more than one word. It stung the air. And hurt. Not because it was true, but because of the way he said it. It left her feeling guilty, regretting ever having swiped the dried meat in the first place. Had he hit her, berated her, or otherwise punished her, she could have ignored it. But this way left her in the wrong.
He pulled her to her feet by the backpack and they stepped through the gate.
She chewed furiously, biting her lip in the process, and finished off the remainder of the meat.
"I told him I was hungry." she muttered to herself. "I still am" she added the though.
"I too feel hunger." He growled over his shoulder, in a way that sent shivers down her spine. His hearing was exceptional, and his Wraith impeccable. She began to suspect the unthinkable. Perhaps underneath the hood. Behind the cloak... No. Impossible! she thought. Wraith don't buy slaves. They had herds to 'cull'. They don't buy 'food'. She shook the thought from her mind. But what was he then? A worshipper?
Yes. No-doubt underneath that hood there was a Wraith worshipping human. Surely he would bring her to his keeper perhaps even his queen. There she could report anything she knew, and offer her services. Among other Wraith, gaining approval from the queen was her only chance of survival.