They tied the person down, though the person screamed and swore at them. The person screamed even louder as they lifted up the damaged foot, removing the shackles. The person cursed them, saying they hated these individuals. But if these individuals had not done what they did, this angry being they'd found abandoned in those chains, would've died of sepsis. -- Anon Guest
Skye had run out of the ability to run. Ze kept moving, all the same. Well. Ze kept limping. Shuffling along as fast as hir body could carry hir. Which wasn't that fast, after everything that ze'd been through.
The hunters were a lot faster than hir.
A lot more observant. A lot more determined. A lot more of them than hir. Skye kicked and struggled when they dragged hir out of hir hiding place. Screamed when they tied hir down. Fought as hard as ze could against them, even though they had hir helpless.
Skye shut hir eyes against the sight of the instruments. Braced for the impact of whatever tortures they were going to inflict.
Let them harm the body, Skye thought. I will find another rock. I will make another escape. I will kill more guards. I will find a way to be free.
They focussed on the foot. Fine. Skye was perfectly willing to lose the foot anyway. Piercing the boils and welts, doing things with the gnarled irons that had caused the pain in the first place. Dousing the stinking injuries with stinging fluids.
The familiar weight... fell away. There was more stinging fluid. The prickling itch of magic working on the throbbing agony of hir leg.
Skye peeked out from hir disassociation to look at what the hunters were doing. One was channeling magic into the reddish-purple mess that was hir left foot. One was daubing the area with the stinging fluids. One was expressing boils onto a clean cloth, swapping them out with a fourth who was using more magic to render them clean again.
Bit by bit, Skye's left leg was coming good. Returning to what normalcy ze knew from... too long ago. Sometime before the rock that ze used to break hir chains and the head of the guard watching hir pen. These... hunters... were not punishing hir further?
The heavy one holding hir down cooed soft words. "There, now. There, now. It's all right, now. Breathe for me? Just breathe."
The less ze fought, the less they held hir. The less ze screamed or howled, the more they spoke to her. They had only ever been using the force necessary to help hir.
"You are not slave-hunters?" Skye finally managed. Not truly trusting that they'd tell hir the truth, but also convinced by their actions that they actually might do so.
"We're slave-er hunters," said the Hellkin hulk of a Fighter, who was holding hir down. "Quite the difference. Daisy's going to be glad we got to you in time. You led us a chase, new friend." The tone was shockingly friendly, even for a Hellkin in full armour. Shockingly soothing and calm, given the situation.
And not threatening at all.
"Daisy," repeated Skye.
"She's the priestess seeing to the rest of those who were in chains. And she sent us off to get you before you got too sick." The Hellkin Fighter actually began to look scared. "She takes loss of life very seriously."
"Deathly seriously," said the one cleaning the rags. "She's frightening when she loses one. Not angry, mind. The guilt and depression are truly scary."
The one doing the healing came out of their trance. "Okay. You're out of danger, and I'm about wiped out. How do you feel about us carrying you back to Daisy?"
They let Skye think about that and make hir decision. That was what decided hir. "Yes, please."
[Photo by Csaba Gyulavári on Unsplash]
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