Little Lamb

24 ❦ bound forest nymph

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"What are you looking at, dollface?"

I hadn't realized I was zoned out, staring at one of the men seated in front of me. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stare," I said quietly.

He grinned. "Why not? You don't like what you see?"

His rough gaze made me uncomfortable, and I could feel him still staring. I avoided eye contact, keeping my head down.

"You don't talk much, do you?" he said.

Not to you, no.

He leaned in slightly, a sly smile creeping across his face. "After that hellhole, it's nice to see a pretty little thing like you."

I scoffed. The man chuckled darkly at my scoff.
I looked out the window. It's been a few hours, we have been driving through the woods in silence.

A sense of dread crept through me, growing stronger with each passing second. The thick forest around us, with its towering trees and dense undergrowth, made it painfully clear how far we were from civilization.
We were deep in the wilderness, isolated, with no one for miles.

The car finally slowed to a stop. Around me, outside, men were busy unloading supplies, were setting up the camp while others stood guard, rifles in hand. A few dark tents dotted the grassy clearing. This wasn't just a campsite, it was a base.

"We're here," said the man in front, flashing a smile that made my stomach turn. That's when I noticed the dried blood staining his lips.

I glanced around, uneasy. A man beside me unbuckled my seatbelt without warning, his hand lingering longer than necessary. The unexpected gesture caught me off guard. The door opened, and they stepped out, leaving me no choice but to follow. I hesitated before getting up, struggling to orient myself in this strange place. The man with the bloody lips extended his hand.

Reluctantly, I took it, his rough, gloved fingers gripping mine tightly. "Watch your step," he muttered, guiding me out.

As I stepped onto the damp grass, the earthy scent filled my nose, it smelled like rain. I hadn't felt the sun on my face in days, and despite everything, I missed it.

Suddenly, the man grabbed my wrist again, startling me. "You can't be trusted, dollface," he said with a smirk. "Gotta tie you up."

Before I could protest, he pulled a length of rope from his pocket and bound my wrists with a swift, motion. The rough fibers dug into my skin, tighter than necessary.

"I'm not going anywhere," I whispered, tugging at the restraints.

He chuckled, his grip tightening. "Can't take any chances."

I curled my lip. "It's too tight,"

His smirk widened. "Is it now? Should be used to it by now." He yanked me forward, leading me toward a larger tent. The weight of the other men's stares made me feel like a prisoner all over again.

The tent's interior was dim, lit only by two flickering lanterns. It was spacious but cold. A sleeping bag lay haphazardly in one corner.

I sank onto the floor, exhaustion weighing down my limbs. My mind wandered to Riggs. Where was he? Would he make it here? Would he make it out alive?

The silence inside was suffocating, interrupted only by the occasional murmurs outside. I leaned back against the canvas wall, wrists aching, heart pounding. Time seemed to stretch endlessly.

A small noise outside the tent caught my attention. I froze, straining to listen.
Was it a mouse? Or worse, a rat? My heart raced as a small, grey blur darted inside.
My skin prickled with fear, and my eyes widened in panic. I stood up, backing away, but the little creature moved fast, heading straight for me