Leila of the Prey [Book Six]

Bait

  Watching the men moving around the camp, I saw how they milled about or laughed together. Cleaning their guns and washing furs, sharing stories over campfire suppers. They were so jovial.

  It annoyed me.

  Day in and day out, their laughter grated my nerves. I would curse them if we spoke the same language.

  Fucking Frenchmen, they were. Another man traveling with them had to translate for me whenever I was spoken to and vice versa. He tried to be sympathetic, but he was just as annoying for going along with them.

  I had been taken from my family farm a few months prior by traveling traders, dragged to the seas, and then sold as a cook to these Frenchmen. It didn't take them long to realize they hadn't bought the contract of a cook when I kept trying to escape or poison their food. I was only kept around now to lure out bears for them to kill and butcher.

  They also used traps for beavers, foxes, and other small animals to collect their fur and meat. They would clean the furs and dry them, then roll them up into bundles to sell and trade.

  And I had to sit there watching it all with nothing to do but wait for the next time they tied me out like a goat in bear territory. As the weeks passed, I grew more bitter.

  They kept me in a cage during the nights to make sure I wouldn't escape, but a couple of days ago, I had managed to get my hands on a sharp rock. I kept it hidden within my clothes between my breasts and pulled it out late at night to cut at the ropes holding my cage together. I had to cut a little at a time since the rock was no knife and to prevent the Frenchmen from catching me in the act.

  One of the men sat down on the log next to me while heavily sighing. He reeked of alcohol and looked at me with a drunken smile. He spoke, but I couldn't understand what he was saying.

  I watched his lips move while trying to piece together what he might be saying, but I didn't know nearly enough about his language to figure it out. He scooted a little closer and waved his hand while talking. When he laughed, I assumed that he was trying to tell me a funny story.

  I sat there in silence without laughing or attempting to humor him in any way. I hoped he would leave once he realized I would not keep him entertained. Instead, he kept talking as if I knew what he was saying.

  The man looked at me with a smile again before reaching out to gently take some of my hair into his hand. He said something and brought my hair toward his face to kiss it. He then leaned in closer as my hands clenched.

  With my hands together since my wrists were bound, I swung and hit the man on his cheek with my knuckles. He was so drunk that he fell off the log and didn't get back up. He was snoring a few seconds later with his face in a patch of thick grass.

  Sighing through my nose, I turned away to try and ignore him. I hoped he would remain unconscious for a while so that I wouldn't have to listen to him anymore or have him trying to touch me again.

~

  I yelled and struggled while digging my heels into the dirt. The men grabbing me and dragging me through the woods were snarling and no doubt cursing in their language. I shouted angrily, but it fell on deaf ears as they forced me to kneel.

  "You fucking twats! I hope it eats you alive!" I snarled as one of the men grabbed the rope around my wrists. He yanked my arms forward to chain the rope to a post driven deep into the ground. I heard the familiar click of the lock falling into place, and the men let me go.

  I tried to pull away from the post, but nothing gave. The post was too deep to budge, the chain and lock too strong to break, and the rope firm that it didn't even fray.