One

Chapter Three

"Emma." 
"Yes?"
"What am I to you?"

A torch was held near to her face, the flames nearly tickling her cheeks. She squinted. The figure melted together with a dim background, and her eyes, used to the bright reflections of the desert, could only see the yellow flames of the torch. A gloved hand reached out and grabbed her by the chin, she tried to draw back but the back of her head hit something hard. The hand moved her face to the side, it's leather fingers bruised her jaw.
"She's awake." a soft, gruff voice spoke, "You can handle her."
The torch moved away and the hand let go; footsteps retreated into the night. Emma breathed out a sigh of relief. Behind her she heard the rustling of grass, a cold breeze pushed against a small campfire. There was no one attending it, she thought, until a tall hooded figure stepped into the light. He moved with practised grace. Boots with metal toe caps and brons spurs slid silently over the ground; muscled legs in tight leather leggings bent into a squat; elbows leaned on his upper legs for support, revealing toned arms; and finally a pair of glowing hazel eyes. Emma gulped, fear and discomfort rising to her throat. She shut her eyes and sent a quick prayer to the gods. 
"Look at me."
The man before her stared at her for a while. Calculating. Deadly. Around her, the forest seemed to come to life; the chirping of crickets filled the night sky, filled in with munching, rustling and howling. Another gulp. He sat, cross-legged.
"You listen to us." it was silent for an unbearable second before he said, "Don't bother escaping."
Emma didn't answer. Fear formed a knot in her stomach and pushed its way up her throat. She vaguely wondered where Sandra was; if her sister had reached the clan on time. A dull thumping sensation was beginning to spread from the back of her scalp to her eyes. Vaguely, she remembered being hit by one of the men. She retched, but nothing came. Her mouth was clean and dry, her tongue swollen. She felt beaten down, forced into submission, and it stirred something in her. Pride perhaps. Pride and frustration.
"Tell me your age."
She didn't answer, and closed her eyes so she didn't have to answer his stare. Her shoulders tensed when she heard the groan of his leather boots. Fear won from her pride, and with a thick tongue she mumbled, "Seventeen summers."
Something tugged at the bonds on her arms and she felt the cuffs loosen. Was it a chance?
"Name." the voice demanded.
Don't tell him. Emma's eyes shot open. It was there again, a soft echo in the depths of her mind. She tried to reach out to it but the echo left as soon as it came. The man behind her untied her bonds, held one hand in an iron grip and pulled her to the fire. He didn't repeat the words, and forced her onto her knees. A rough, woolly blanket was draped over her shoulders, and when she raised her head she saw another giant, this time with a long, black beard. Shivering, she pulled her knees up to her arms. Why did they take her? Where were they going? The urge to ask was overwhelming, but she was too anxious to speak.

A bowl of steaming liquid was pushed into her hands; small brown blocks drifted in luke-warm gruel. A mug containing a frothy golden drink was set in front of her, sending it sloshing over the edge. Emma eyed her food suspiciously. When she raised her gaze, her eyes met those of the bearded man.
"Eat" he ordered her, before taking a hump of old bread and dipping it into his dish. 
Emma's stomach gurgled, but her mind protested. She wasn't comfortable enough to eat. Eat. Startled, she scanned her surroundings. Who was speaking to her? It's safe. Eat. Her feelings wavered, and suddenly her entire body was craving the small ration of food. She lifted the bowl to her lips and gulped down the soup, it burned a path down her throat. Her stomach gurgled happily, spreading a warm sensation from her core to her fingertips.

The men had tied her hands and left her on her own with a blanket draped over her body. A drowsy feeling dawned over her. Vaguely, she wondered if her sister had made it back to the clan. She wondered if she'd done right or made a mistake. She wondered why they kept her, but let her clumsy little sister escape. Wondering was so tiring though, and her eyes grew heavy from the satisfaction of a warm meal and a full stomach. She drifted away.

Her dreams were restless. Sandra was everywhere. Following mothers footsteps, nestling on top of her camel, wearing mothers gowns and jewellery, and stumbling up the dunes. Emma walked through each memory, as silent as a ghost. She followed Emma as she stumbled up the dunes, she saw her crying in relief at the two camels, she saw her crawling in the sand, she saw her curled in a ball and looked into her eyes as she lifted her gaze. The sun reflected in her eyes, she opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something to her. She saw her, Emma could smell the dust, could feel the sun burning and saw her sister... Horrified, Emma took off and woke up. She's dying.