[quote=@persianversion]
She flinched as she saw the man’s hand coil back, ready to strike her once more. Involuntarily, her eyes closed to prepare for the blow, yet she received no pain, only feeling a wind across her face, and at this, her eyes snapped open just in time to watch the man fall backwards. The gruesome sight of his hanging jaw was jarring, but Najla had no time to be disgusted before her apparent rescuer stepped in front to block the sight.

Distracted by the sight, Najla found herself thrown to the side, and she fell to the ground roughly. There she stayed, a hand reaching up to gently touch her cheek, watching the scene unfold in front of her with wide eyes. She looked horrified, but at the crack of the man’s nose, she did not flinch. 

It was only when the commander grabbed Ketill’s arm that Najla finally scrambled up. She kept her head down as the commander spoke to Ketill, not wanting to anger him any more. She did not look up to see the men leave or the crowd disperse, only glancing up when she was given an order. She nodded, grasping the horse’s reins and following Ketill towards the tent, making sure to keep her eyes forward and off any staring soldiers.

[i]Is he angry with me?[/i] Perhaps he had heard her insults and would punish her for provoking them. This however, seemed a worry born entirely out of fear, for surely if he had wished to punish her for her actions, he would not have broken a man’s jaw. [i]Was he worried at the commander’s words?[/i] Najla was, knowing that a Servant would be a difficult target for a militia commander to harm, yet a Sawarim slave would be far too easy. [i]Why had he done it? [/i]

Her mind raced as she followed him to the tent, and she tied the horse outside quickly before following Ketill in. She dove under the tent flap, only to stop just as she entered. His words about her things caused her to look up for the first time, glancing at the emptied bag. It did not surprise her to see it emptied, after all, he had every right to look through her things. What did surprise her were his words. 

[i]Continue serving? He still wants me here? After all the trouble I’ve caused him?[/i]

She spoke none of her concerns, but when he approached her, they were all too easy to read. Najla met his gaze as he spoke, and even though he had given her a command, she did not move. She stood with a slight frown on her face, and her eyes searched his. This time, her gaze did not venture to his scars or the marks on his forehead, but remained locked onto his. It seemed a strange sight, for she was far smaller, still shaken, and her cheek was beginning to turn pink, a sure sign it would bruise soon. He, on the other hand, had proven himself to be a skilled warrior, though she had assumed this already, and she had just watched him break a man’s nose. However, for a few moments, Najla showed no fear or deference to her master, only a desire to understand.

These few moments did not last long, and Najla was the first to tear away, unsatisfied at whatever answers she had received. She walked towards the bed and kneeled beside it, picking up the ‘rags’ that he had haphazardly thrown across the bed and folded them neatly before placing them in the bag. Every so often, her gaze flitted to Ketill before darting back to her work, but it did not take long before she closed the bag up and turned to exit the tent.

[i]Does he want an apology? Or gratitude? Or is he truly so uncaring?[/i]

She did not offer any. Najla hooked her bag to the horse’s saddle, then untied the horse before pulling herself up onto it. It was slightly difficult, as the horse was larger than she was used to, but no task she had not accomplished before. She did not ask for Ketill’s help, nor did she sit sideways as she had before, but as she was used to. The saddle was still large, but the horse was a familiar presence under her, though not a calming one.

She knew what the men would think if they saw her riding while her master was walking before her. It would only do more to fuel their resentment, but she could not tell if Ketill did not know or did not care. 

[i]I suppose it doesn’t matter what they think. I can’t imagine any of them will be willing to risk a broken jaw. Except perhaps the commander-[/i]

Her worried thoughts were interrupted as Ketill emerged and she would follow him on horseback to their place in the march. Najla would remain quiet during the march, occasionally reaching up to touch her cheek gently, trying to gauge how tender it was. It would definitely bruise soon. Her arm was already starting to show where he had grabbed her, perfect red prints where his grimy fingers had been. Painful, but nowhere near enough to make someone feel sympathy when the man who had caused it was caressing a broken nose somewhere. Perhaps she would have aroused some pity if he had speared her on the end of his sword, but she doubted it.

She was not used to keeping up with marches. Her pace had always been swifter, accompanied by a few guards and as such, Najla was far more accustomed to travelling quickly. Now they were followed by supply wagons, camp followers, and slaves, who unlike her, did not have the fortune of a horse. It was a strange sensation, but not an unwelcome one, and much of her time traveling was spent in thought. 

Some of her thoughts involved counting, trying to make sure her estimates of the expedition numbers were accurate. Some of her thoughts were just worries, some prayers, but most revolved around Ketill. Her eyes were either on the path around them or locked firmly onto him, as if his back could give an answer his eyes could not.

He didn’t like her. Najla wasn’t a fool, she could see that. Yet he treated her kindly, more kindly than she had expected, and far more kindly than any man in this camp would have. Even beyond that, he had put himself in a more vulnerable position for her, and had spoken nothing of it. 

[i]He would have done the same for his horse, I expect, or if a man had been taking his sword. I doubt he did it because I am a person, but because I am his property.[/i]

It was an unnerving thought, to compare herself to a horse and declare herself property, but Najla could see no alternative. She had not proven herself of any value to him and a holy knight would never defend a Sawarim woman, and so this, to call herself a possession, was the only explanation. 

[i]Do possessions show gratitude?[/i] She didn’t want to thank him. She could admit that he had saved her life, yet Najla could not bring herself to thank him for it. A year of serving the heretics up north had been humiliation enough, but thanking a holy knight would surely shatter the remainder of her pride. 

She leaned forward and reached her hand out, lightly tapping the knight’s shoulder with two fingers. Whether or not he acknowledged it, she spoke, almost as softly as her gesture. 

[i]“My lord, I am in no great pain that I cannot walk. If you ever tire-”[/i] She left her words there.

It was an odd suggestion, Najla knew. It was not one borne out of gratitude, but it would still be the closest to gratitude that Ketill would likely see from her. It was a suggestion born out of fear, fears that had ample time to gather during the march. If the men were to see that Ketill allowed her to ride whilst he walked, her situation here could only be made worse by it. His likely would too, and Najla knew that if the commander ever followed through on his threat, her head wouldn’t be far behind. A selfish act in its entirety, but Najla could offer him no more in terms of thanks. 

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