When Willow came to again, she was more aware, although her head and shoulder still throbbed painfully. As she slowly awoke, she felt movement below her and her eyes flew open. She felt suddenly nauseous and forced her eyes shut again and began to count her breaths.

When she felt settled again, she inspected the world above her. Above her was the canvas roof of what Willow guessed to be a caravan, the fabric shifted often as if a wind was pushing against it. The scent of horse manure and sweat filled her nose and she thought she heard the faint murmur of voices nearby, although unintelligible around the splitting headache. She tried to sit up, her scrambled mind trying to make sense of the situation through bleary eyes but found she couldn't move. Looking down, horror rooted its way into her heart as she had a terrifying realisation.

Her wrists and ankles had been bound, the loose part between her ankles looped around a pole supporting the caravan canvas. She couldn't move. She was trapped and at the mercy of strangers. She felt sweat drop down her back. How long had she been out? By the smell of her, she'd been sweating profusely. Willow had no idea how long she’d been out, it had been afternoon last she remembered and the heat, permeating through the canvas roof seemed to be more of a midday heat then afternoon.

Willow felt the panic stealing her ability to think clearly and desperately tried to keep it at bay, forcing herself to take deep, steadying breaths. She tested the rope knots. They had been wrapped around and between her wrists in such a way that if she pulled, they grew tighter. They were already tight enough to cause minor pain and Willow didn't want to further cut off her blood flow if she didn't have to. What was going to happen to her? Panic rising once more, Willow thought Where am I being taken? Who are these people?

With a panicked shudder, she shouted out, desperately hoping this was a joke, a dream. But the effect was immediate and faceless hands had her restrained and a bundle of wool was shoved unceremoniously into her mouth, a strip of cloth going over the top to keep it there. She was let go and she shot a hate-filled glare at the men who had done so. They ignored her, climbing back out and talking amongst themselves without a backwards glance. They looked familiar but her addled brain could put the faces to names she recognised.

As the day cooled an older woman climbed into the cart with her, carrying food with her. She warned Willow to keep her voice down and Willow obeyed, more afraid of the dagger at the woman's waist then her words. In the dim light, she couldn’t quite make out the features of the women but was again struck with the idea that she did know this person. Efficiently, the rope was removed along with the gag and Willow fervently rubbed her wrists, hoping to help the pins and needles pass.

Willow eyed the offered tray of suspiciously. It smelt fine but who knew what they could have done to it? Her magic was weak at best and could only detect so much on its own. Her stomach growled angrily and again Willow wondered how long she had been out of commission. She hadn't eaten since the teacakes at Bea's home. A wave of homesickness curled over her, and tears sprung to her eyes. Would she even see any of her friends, family, and neighbours again?

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

She huffed. So much for the prophecy and its tale of woe.

Willow muffled her sigh, fighting back the tears. She refused to show such weakness in front of whoever this was. Slowly, with a defeated sigh, as she took an orange slice and slowly nibbled on it. The woman seemed cheerful enough but doggedly attempted to engage Willow in a conversation. Willow refused to speak, paying little attention to the nattering of the woman, she didn't even catch her name. The woman was unperturbed however and continued her train of chatter for far longer than Willow had the patience for. At each small grunt or noncommittal noise, the woman's frown had grown. Willow wondered if they would punish her behaviour but decided that either way, she didn't much care.

Eventually, the woman gave up and departed, the frown still firmly etched on her face, she heard her speaking just outside the doorway, but Willow couldn't hear much of the conversation over the caravans’ clattering although it sounded heated. The woman was clearly angry and, by the sounds of it, the man, seemed equally distress.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with her, shouldn’t the drug of worn off by now, Wandering Foot?” She heard the women say during a lull in noise and Willow suddenly felt as if she had been punched in the stomach, coughing harshly against the orange slice caught in her throat as the comprehension came to her just as harshly.

Wandering Foot was a good friend of her father’s, leader of the Betrayers. The women had been his wife, White Flower. The men who had gagged her she placed now as parents of some of her Betrayer friends. Why would the Betrayer’s, friends of her father’s, have taken her!?

Willow heard Wandering Foot attempting to placate White Flower, but it seemed she wasn't accepting whatever he was explaining. After a moment though, Willow heard her laugh a little and all was quiet again.

Willow pushed herself onto her side. Her gag and wrist ties had been returned, much to Willow's annoyance. Exhaustion overtook her, her head and shoulder throbbing once more. She desperately tried to stay awake

Dammit, they must have drugged the food the bloody... Pricks! Willow lamented as she fought her eyelids.

Her parents must have noticed her absence by now. But how would they find her? Willow suspected they had been travelling at least a day while she was out. Who knows how far from the city they were now? Her family didn't have the horsepower to run her down. No. she would have to escape herself. Besides, why would they ever suspect the Betrayer’s, the family had been friends with them for generations.

It was clear to Willow that she was travelling with The Betrayer's. Which meant she would be headed for the border and well protected. If the King found out she was with them, she would be slaughtered, but the Betrayer's would be spared. They were after all the descendants of his most valuable generals. It's what let them roam the way they did.

Willow's anger flared. She'd always felt sorry for them and had always tried to be kind to them. She had firmly believed that they were not their predecessor's actions, they had no choice in what those who came before did. In social gatherings with her fiancé’s relatives, she had overcome her non-confrontational nature to defend them as best she could, lending embarrassment to the family and risking the loss of approval from Jay-jay’s family in the process.

But this… this proved that all the nasty things they’d tried to have her believe and spread were true. Tears sprung to her eyes unbidden. She'd been forbidden from friends’ houses, caused uncomfortable arguments in her efforts to defend them and look at what that had gotten her!?

Trapped, like a deer by the hunter, headed for who knows where. She tried to force the rumours away, the ones explaining in graphic detail just what happened to women in her position. Was it to be forced servitude? Or prostitution?

Sleep claimed her.