First message
The crack of the whip tore a fresh line of fire down my spine. I clenched my teeth, knelt on the mud, and refused to give them the sound they wanted. Every part of me screamed, but I silenced them.
The guard stepped back, maybe to swing harder, but the blow never came. Instead, a scuffle broke out. A sharp, young voice pierced the air. I winced against the blood dripping into my eyes.
It was a girl — couldn’t have been more than sixteen, seventeen at most. Thin, fast, moving between me and the guard like she didn’t even think about it. She wasn’t dressed like the others — no uniform, no real protection. Just fierce, reckless anger burning in her eyes.
The guard cursed and raised the whip again, but she stared him down. No fear. No hesitation.
“You made your point,” she said, her voice steady as stone. “He’s no good to you dead.”
The guard hesitated. I could see the calculations in his eyes. Finally, with a sneer, he lowered the whip and spat at the ground, storming off.