Trix could feel Asher's gaze on her, but still kept her own eyes locked on the pups on the floor. She wished she were smaller, uglier, something, anything, that would let him leave her here. Listening as he spoke, her first thought was that he was going to sell them, taking them away from her, and for a brief moment, she shot him a look of pure fire. Then when he said they could come under two conditions, Trix's face quickly dropped into relief, almost wanting to be a smile. It never quite made it there though. Her gaze quickly dropped to her pups again, confident that they would be able to keep up, and would never cause trouble, unless someone was hurting her.
But now it was time to leave, and she slowly moved past him, taking one last look at the home she would probably never see again. Turning back she saw the man called Dunkan and she flinched, stopping in her path for a moment, looking back toward Asher. She gulped down her fear, and slowly made her way forward, always trying to make herself appear smaller. Scurrying past him and off to the side, but not too far, so as to not be punished, she looked at the horse and the Earth Pony. The earth pony had a knight strapped to his back, but she had no idea who it was. At least she could tell his hair wasn't orange. She'd always liked earth ponies, they were quite common in the farming village and always seemed to be very enthusiastic and eager about everything. But this one talking about a dead man, and calling him scum, unsettled her.
Trix was doing her best to memorize the names, if only to have something to focus on that wasn't her life being destroyed and the multitude of feelings coursing through her. And a part of her knew that if she wanted to be treated well, she'd need to start learning immediately. Jasper was the monster she'd never forget. Dunkan was the one who helped him. Shaya was the blood covered earth pony. Ozlo... she didn't know, but sounded important. And Asher... that was to be seen, but for now, was the one who'd saved her from the monster.
When she saw Dunkan hand Asher the orange sash, her eyes grew wide. He'd killed the Sergeant. Sergeants were fierce fighters, she wasn't experienced in watching or participating in combat, but she knew they were incredibly tough. Just who had she gotten herself in with? She heard them speak their foreign language, and found Dunkan looking at her. Her eyes immediately found the ground again. She felt Asher come close, taking her bag, putting it in the saddle, a hand now on her.
When the silo went up, Trix startled heavily, and found herself shrinking against Asher's body, squinting at the sudden brightness. She saw a host of knights coming, and almost yelled out to them. But that would lead to more bloodshed, possibly her pups getting hurt, and she wasn't sure if they'd be able to hear her anyways. She heard a jingle of metal, not expecting it. Then she felt him gripping her wrists gently, before slipping manacles around them like a prisoner. No, not like a prisoner. She was a prisoner. As they locked, she knew there was zero chance of escape now.
She heard him mutter something in that foreign language, before she found herself being touched and lifted in a swift motion. Pain shot through her back and she screamed in pain and shock, finding herself suddenly atop the horse, scrambling to hold onto anything she could. She had fistfuls of the horse's mane, clutching them in a death grip. She'd never been atop a horse before, and now her first time came with excruciating pain, with a horrifying experience. Suddenly Asher was behind her, pressed against her back, sending more pain through her. More tears found their way down her cheeks, her breathing heavy as she tried to adjust to it. She felt his hand with the... leather strap things gripped, resting on her thigh.
And suddenly they were moving forward. She tried to peer around the large man to see her pups, and call for them if needed and she nearly fell off. She did see them though as she tried to right herself, pulling hard on the mane, hoping it didn't hurt the horse. She was relieved that they could keep up. When her captor turned them to face the village, she stifled a cry as she saw her home disappear in flame. Her pups caught up easily, waiting by the horse, eyes deadset on their mother. She saw more Screamers and Knights coming toward them, and suddenly they were moving, much faster, and Trix thought she was going to be thrown.
Her knuckles were white with strain as she kept her hold on the long hair, each bounce sending new pain through her cut back, until it dissipated into a sort of constant pain that could be ignored. She kept slipping forward and all over, never feeling like she wasn't going to be thrown. She had no idea how people did this constantly, it was a nightmare. Then there was a guiding hand on her hip.
She heard his words, telling her to roll her hips, to not be stiff. She felt him surge his stomach, and that made her focus on his movements, back to his natural self. He'd been doing that the entire time. She tried to match his rhythm, tightening her stomach and at first, just scooting forward. But that was wrong and she nearly slipped over the shoulders. She closed her eyes, focusing on the feeling, and tried and tried and tried again. Several times she got the motion right, but was off rhythm, and others she was on rhythm, but was over-exaggerating the motion. However, when she did finally get it right, she could feel the significant difference. It was hard, her stomach muscles were fairly nonexistent, but she kept at it, occasionally slipping up, but quickly regaining the rhythm again. She could tell why some people found that riding as a couple was romantic, had this been any other time, any other man, it might be. But this was survival, nothing else.
She tried to look at each Screamer that approached and gave a report, but it was always in their foreign language. The faces were many, and she was tired, frustrated, and in such a whirlwind, that there wasn't really anything else to focus on. So she continued to just practice this rhythm, to fight through the burning in her stomach, hips, and thighs. There was some peace in only focusing on the rhythm of the hoofbeats, the winds blowing by her. There was no care in the world at this moment, good, or bad. There was just three bodies moving in unison.
She noticed that Asher's breathing seemed to change, breaths growing more ragged, shallower. She knew those breaths, of course she did. She'd treated many people like that. He was a man that was injured, and ignoring it. She was so far from home, and hadn't the slightest idea of how to get back, even if she were to get off right now. He was her survival. Which meant if he was hurt, she was his. She looked up at him, "Are you hurt? I'm a healer, I can fix you." Her voice was soft, but didn't have the normal caring tone of it, stating more matter of factly than anything. "If you're hurt, let me fix you. I don't know the way if you pass out."
But now it was time to leave, and she slowly moved past him, taking one last look at the home she would probably never see again. Turning back she saw the man called Dunkan and she flinched, stopping in her path for a moment, looking back toward Asher. She gulped down her fear, and slowly made her way forward, always trying to make herself appear smaller. Scurrying past him and off to the side, but not too far, so as to not be punished, she looked at the horse and the Earth Pony. The earth pony had a knight strapped to his back, but she had no idea who it was. At least she could tell his hair wasn't orange. She'd always liked earth ponies, they were quite common in the farming village and always seemed to be very enthusiastic and eager about everything. But this one talking about a dead man, and calling him scum, unsettled her.
Trix was doing her best to memorize the names, if only to have something to focus on that wasn't her life being destroyed and the multitude of feelings coursing through her. And a part of her knew that if she wanted to be treated well, she'd need to start learning immediately. Jasper was the monster she'd never forget. Dunkan was the one who helped him. Shaya was the blood covered earth pony. Ozlo... she didn't know, but sounded important. And Asher... that was to be seen, but for now, was the one who'd saved her from the monster.
When she saw Dunkan hand Asher the orange sash, her eyes grew wide. He'd killed the Sergeant. Sergeants were fierce fighters, she wasn't experienced in watching or participating in combat, but she knew they were incredibly tough. Just who had she gotten herself in with? She heard them speak their foreign language, and found Dunkan looking at her. Her eyes immediately found the ground again. She felt Asher come close, taking her bag, putting it in the saddle, a hand now on her.
When the silo went up, Trix startled heavily, and found herself shrinking against Asher's body, squinting at the sudden brightness. She saw a host of knights coming, and almost yelled out to them. But that would lead to more bloodshed, possibly her pups getting hurt, and she wasn't sure if they'd be able to hear her anyways. She heard a jingle of metal, not expecting it. Then she felt him gripping her wrists gently, before slipping manacles around them like a prisoner. No, not like a prisoner. She was a prisoner. As they locked, she knew there was zero chance of escape now.
She heard him mutter something in that foreign language, before she found herself being touched and lifted in a swift motion. Pain shot through her back and she screamed in pain and shock, finding herself suddenly atop the horse, scrambling to hold onto anything she could. She had fistfuls of the horse's mane, clutching them in a death grip. She'd never been atop a horse before, and now her first time came with excruciating pain, with a horrifying experience. Suddenly Asher was behind her, pressed against her back, sending more pain through her. More tears found their way down her cheeks, her breathing heavy as she tried to adjust to it. She felt his hand with the... leather strap things gripped, resting on her thigh.
And suddenly they were moving forward. She tried to peer around the large man to see her pups, and call for them if needed and she nearly fell off. She did see them though as she tried to right herself, pulling hard on the mane, hoping it didn't hurt the horse. She was relieved that they could keep up. When her captor turned them to face the village, she stifled a cry as she saw her home disappear in flame. Her pups caught up easily, waiting by the horse, eyes deadset on their mother. She saw more Screamers and Knights coming toward them, and suddenly they were moving, much faster, and Trix thought she was going to be thrown.
Her knuckles were white with strain as she kept her hold on the long hair, each bounce sending new pain through her cut back, until it dissipated into a sort of constant pain that could be ignored. She kept slipping forward and all over, never feeling like she wasn't going to be thrown. She had no idea how people did this constantly, it was a nightmare. Then there was a guiding hand on her hip.
She heard his words, telling her to roll her hips, to not be stiff. She felt him surge his stomach, and that made her focus on his movements, back to his natural self. He'd been doing that the entire time. She tried to match his rhythm, tightening her stomach and at first, just scooting forward. But that was wrong and she nearly slipped over the shoulders. She closed her eyes, focusing on the feeling, and tried and tried and tried again. Several times she got the motion right, but was off rhythm, and others she was on rhythm, but was over-exaggerating the motion. However, when she did finally get it right, she could feel the significant difference. It was hard, her stomach muscles were fairly nonexistent, but she kept at it, occasionally slipping up, but quickly regaining the rhythm again. She could tell why some people found that riding as a couple was romantic, had this been any other time, any other man, it might be. But this was survival, nothing else.
She tried to look at each Screamer that approached and gave a report, but it was always in their foreign language. The faces were many, and she was tired, frustrated, and in such a whirlwind, that there wasn't really anything else to focus on. So she continued to just practice this rhythm, to fight through the burning in her stomach, hips, and thighs. There was some peace in only focusing on the rhythm of the hoofbeats, the winds blowing by her. There was no care in the world at this moment, good, or bad. There was just three bodies moving in unison.
She noticed that Asher's breathing seemed to change, breaths growing more ragged, shallower. She knew those breaths, of course she did. She'd treated many people like that. He was a man that was injured, and ignoring it. She was so far from home, and hadn't the slightest idea of how to get back, even if she were to get off right now. He was her survival. Which meant if he was hurt, she was his. She looked up at him, "Are you hurt? I'm a healer, I can fix you." Her voice was soft, but didn't have the normal caring tone of it, stating more matter of factly than anything. "If you're hurt, let me fix you. I don't know the way if you pass out."
