With Tribune unconsciously slumped in his segment of the room, the explorers were left anxious for information. Roxton's eyes bulged as the dark room once again filled with the blinding light. A man entered, eyed the captives and resigned for the easiest target, Marguerite. Instinctively Roxton protested but was shut down due to a rather fierce strike by a club. The man undid her ties and grabbed her soundly. Marguerite locked eyes with her hunter and relayed her only sentiment. "I'll not leave you for the hangman" she uttered quietly while being escorted out of the dimly-lit cell.
The hunter strained to hear any and every sound made, struggled to catch a glimpse of his lady through the small slit in the door. He never gave up until a second guard came in and tended to his wounds. He might have tried to escape if a third guard wasn't at the door, soundly keeping watch over the unruly prisoners.
It seemed hours later that the guards left, that Roxton heard the first firm sounds from the corridor. A small splashing sound immediately followed by a repeated mechanical noise of some sort. He hoped in vain they were doing laundry, or giving her a bath. Several rounds of noises later, his lungs breathed again as his Marguerite was returned. She was firm as ever, her hair was bound in a handkerchief, amazingly enough she seemed freshly bathed, and in good health.
Once she was rebound he caught her eye. A raised eyebrow followed by a retort of a half-smile. Her eyes flickered to his wound, he smiled brightly. His eyes flickered to her hair, she smiled brightly. She retained contact, yet made a small hand gesture indicating a gun. He raised both his hands palm-up to indicate his lack of knowledge. He placed his large hands on his stomach and eyed her. She nodded once, indicating that she too was hungry. He eyed Tribune, and she raised a cautious eyebrow. They don't need gunpowder. They want something else, John. His eyes drew close and he opened his mouth slightly. What do they want, Marguerite? With this her eyes shut. She scoffed slightly and eyed the floor with deadly determination. This she could handle alone. This she would handle alone. She would protect her hunter with the only skills she had, herself. She levelled her eyes to his; he could see nothing in them, just the way she wanted. I've got no ideas. He drew a beady look at her and resigned knowing that she would not open up in this situation. When the guard came in with a meal the silent conversation had ended and they were left in silence. A little while later a guard entered and placed a watery substance in two bowls on the floor, he unbound the woman and provoked her to tend to the unconscious heathens. He rebound her to a separate stake in the wall which consisted of a metal ring in which she could move freely but never escape. He finished his work and let the prisoners be.
Marguerite felt a slight tremble when she used her weary limbs, but wouldn't let it show. She confidently got up, made some quip about freedom and made her way to Challenger. Roxton watched attentively as she gingerly lifted the old scientists head and encouraged him to drink. She murmured soft sounds as he aroused just enough for nourishment. He passed out once more and she let him. She replaced the emptied bowl and manoeuvred to the lizard-man. She lifted up his head and soundly smacked him. He snapped to attention and howled at the woman. She was smart enough to move just out of his reach.
What do they want with us Tribune?
What do any of us want with you, my dear?
This resulted in another hard slap, and a stern look.
I'm a tad out of the social circuits, apparently they found another leader.
She then took pity on the tired beast and offered him the meal. When they had finished she smacked him hard once more and sent him back to unconsciousness.
Roxton watched in sheer amazement as his lady expertly interrogated the lizard and then regained her composure. She got up and sauntered his way.
She led her shackles along the ring until she was in front of her favourite hunter. As long as I'm free, I might as well be here. She carefully sat beside him, just enough for comfort. He placed his arms around her and she fell asleep.
They both awoke to being alone, the feeling of each other gone, being separately chained once more. They both longed for the closeness to return.
Roxton eyed his companion's state and the door opened and the blinding light returned. She was hauled out of the room and left him entranced in fear and doubt. He feared what she wasn't saying, her underlying pain as she shifted in sleep, her speech too tight, and her quips were coming too quickly. She had worn her hard mask, the one that separated her in the first months on the plateau. Her behaviour frightened him deeply. He would find a solution when she returned.
It would be hours more before his suspicions were confirmed. She was returned, her hair bound once more, and she looked weary. When the brute shackled her once more to the wall she involuntarily let a shrill cry out. Her eyes closed, and her mask was donned once more. She smiled brightly, suggesting he pinched her rather hardly. When she was finished her roaming and sat beside him he struggled against himself. Knowing any push would lead her farther from him, he dejected to giving her the warmth she craved so deeply. She sighed inwardly as she leaned into his embrace. He let her fall asleep and then as gentlemanly as possibly lifted her small shift to reveal a portion of her legs. He gasped quietly against the night as the bruises sparkled in the dim lights. He replaced her cloths as he lifted the portion covering her hair; it was damp to the touch. The hunter set his jaw, his mind devoid of any coherent thought as it always became when she was in pain. He would not find sleep this night, nor any other night until this situation was satisfied and she was recovering.
