Aeturnis stumbled, nearly blinded by the tears welling in her eyes. The Ermine that held her chains jerked her cruelly everytime she faltered.
"No time for tears, girly," he said, "save them for later. You'll need them then!" He laughed uproariously.
Aeturnis could do nothing but stumble onwards and wonder why. Why had Madame Zufraia, who had been so kind to her, betrayed her so harshly? She had little time to ponder such things before the cruel pull of her chains yanked her onwards.
And more importantly, was Chaz. She had just been growing fond of him, perhaps too fond. Allowing yourself that sort of emotion opened you up to a whole new world of hurt. She hugged herself tightly, wishing she had not lost the Memory Book. She felt so alone without her mother watching over her, but she would not cry, damnit, she would not!
They walked and walked. Her legs throbbed - she wasn't used to walking this far, this fast, and on such rugged terrain. Hunger gnawed at her, but worse was the thirst. Her mouth felt so dry it hurt to swallow.
It must have been late evening by the time they stopped, Aeturnis collapsing to the ground exhausted and stiff. Some of the Ermines were glancing about fitfully as though afraid of pursuit, the Otter just laughed at them.
"They won't be following us," he declared, shaking his splendid hat, "aside from the fact it will take them hours to clear that deadfall, I severed a tendon in the horrible Taur's ankle. He won't be walking anytime soon." At this he laughed uproariously and Aeturnis felt a cold shiver of dread. Poor, poor Farleigh, for him to be lamed would surely be a fate worse then death, in his eyes.
At that thought the sobs rose unbidden, tears coursing down her cheeks. She tried to blink them away, but failed miserably. Had Chaz been hurt too? That thought was as heavy as a lead balloon in her heart.
"Stop whingin'," one of the Ermine snarled, kicking her sharply in the leg and surprising a yelp from her.
"I'm hungry," she whispered, "What do you want from me?"
The Ermine narrowed its eyes. "I don't want nothin' from ya, girlie. 'Cepting maybe your cooperation. We only do what we're paid for and all that. So don't bother askin' us nothing, cos we don't know nothin', understand?"
She nodded mutely. There were no words that could be said. They had kidnapped her on behalf. She was nothing more then a business transaction, and nor was poor Farleigh, lamed for life and it was all her fault - all her fault.
But why?
To that question there could be no answer.
A moment later a flask was pressed to her lips. It was a metal flask and the water inside tasted stale and slightly bitter as the Ermine tilted it. Water dripped down her muzzle as she struggled to swallow before it was gone. A piece of bread, dry and bland, was fed to her in a similar manner, then a blanket was throwing over her.
"Sleep," the Ermine commanded. "You've a long walk ahead o' ya on the morrow and don't be expectin' no favours."
"I wasn't," she replied, curling up as best she could, bound and fettered as she was. Satisfied, the Ermine took his perch upon a rock next to her, staring out in the darkness scanning for danger.
"Help me," she whispered to the silent stars, but they had no answers.
She awoke at midnight, or soon thereafter, to a tickling sensations that began at her toes and made its way up her leg. Awareness struck her slowly, crawling through the deep fog erected by her mind as a defensive barrier against the world. As the fog lifted, she glanced down and saw, on her leg, a bloody trail and a dark shape as large as the palm of her hand.
The blagh gru had found her.
She screamed, squirming in the dirt. The blagh gru regarded her for a moment, its dark, deep, multi-faceted eyes seeming to hold something beyond usual insectile alertness. It twitched one antennae. The white patch on its back was not unlike a skull. A long tube, like a needle, was jabbed into her leg, yet there was no pain - just the tickling sensation of its feet.
"What's goin' on,? Shut up girl!" One of Ermine strolled over "Do you wanna call the skrittlings onto us?"
He then noticed the black shape clinging to her leg. "Blimy, looks like you've got yerself a clinger." His knife blade flashed silver in the moonlight. Aeturnis recoiled, terrified he was going to cut her, punish her perhaps for making so much noise? But then, in one slicing movement, the cockroach was cut free and flung onto the ground, where it twitched pathetically.
Blood trickled out the drinking needle, still impaled in her flesh. The Ermine drew a rather dirty kerchief from his pocket and slapped it across the wound, tying it tightly.
"There ya go girlie," he said, amicably enough, "yer're be right as rain. Least 'til we get ya to our employer, that is." He seemed to find this hilarious, but Aeturnis could see no humour in the situation.
Beneath the circuit of light thrown by the fire came a most dreadful skittering noise. The hairs on Aeturnis's neck rose instinctively. It was a defensive measure- but a particular useless one in this current situation.
And then the blagh gru came, skittering from the darkness so that the shadows themselves seemed to be advancing. Aeturnis stifled a scream of helplessness and fear, but barely. She would not satisfy her captors with by shrieking in despair.
The Ermine had no such qualms, in front of this rising tide of scuttling black shapes, he ran.
She could feel them now, their tiny, clawed feet making their way across her body, the movement tickling her. For all her squirming and struggling, there was naught she could do to shake them from her. Even when she rolled onto her front and dragged herself through the dirt, the blood-sucking cockroaches clung to her. Their needle straws caused no pain, just a dull and creeping numbness that seeped through her skin and reduced her to a crumpled, sobbing heap.
Her vision had become reality.