Marks of Dranolia

The peaceful times were almost over, the kingdom's tension increased drastically over the years. Dragons will rise again. War will wage once more for freedom, love, power...

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He slammed her wrists against the large boulder, expecting smooth thin arms but a feeling of cool rough steel brushed against his calloused hands. He stared at her black orbs under the dim moonlight, enchanted at first but she was a slave. He noticed the shackles on her neck, wrists, and ankles. His eyes observed her from head to toe, noticing her long, sleek black hair dripping with water droplets. Such a pity. Born as a slave.

Her body shivered in fear, reminded of her late childhood, but her eyes refused to show the man in front of her fear. She glared at him fiercely swallowing her panic as her ironbound arms struggles for freedom. She was a huntress not a prey.

His lips curved into a smirk as he watched her futile struggles to be free and the look in her eyes sent him an electrified shivers. Interesting thing. He let his guard down at this runaway slave looking down at her weak slender body.

Unexpectedly, she kicked him directly at his abdomen. A strong kick, one that made him back up a few steps and let go his arms.Before he regained a stable footing, she cupped a handful of water and splashed his face causing him to shut his eyes and choke in surprise. But by the time his eyes gazed back up from shock, she was gone.