Why I even think this confuses me. Kissing her would be as terrible as it would be foolish.
My cock seems to have no sense and is enraged that I haven’t yet taken this dainty thing. This helpless weakling. Why would a strong man want something so beneath them?
It can’t be that I want her. I’m just…lonely. As I should be for my atonement.
She blinks, her eyes fluttering, the syalia weed hitting her quickly.
“I feel…I feel…”
I move my hand quickly to her back, so she doesn’t fall hard to the earth. Limp, she weighs almost nothing. I lift her with ease and reposition her on the fur so that she can rest comfortably.
She should be dead. If not for me, she would be. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t potential. This woman may be weak, but perhaps I can make her strong, and I can change her fate.
7
ELENA
Death has claimed me. It’s the only explanation as to how I’m no longer in pain.
I stretch my limbs, relishing the softness that cradles my flesh.
Could the corsairs have been a dream? The bindings on my wrists say no…though I can’t remember how I got them. Were we traveling with a cleric?
Slowly, memories manifest. The uprising. My dash through the forest. The giant.
Oh, God—the giant. Larger than any man I’ve seen. Stoic and dangerous and armed with weapons the likes of which belong in stories.
I know because I held one. It was a spear larger than most men could wield, made of smooth metal with etchings.
What kind of being would have such a thing? No one in all of Penticar could recreate it. But the giant is obviously not of my world, and I can only wonder of his nature.
His face was human, but hard, with a heavy brow. His hair was a grayish silver.
Perhaps he wasn’t real, and my imagination is playing tricks on me. But if that were true, how was I able to slay the beast?
I shake my head, confused.
There’s an oily paste on my lips, which are no longer as cracked. Everything feels…good.
I sit up and look at my surroundings. A fire burns, beside it is a cloth laid out with meat from the beast he was roasting and a waterskin.
Parched, I drink some water, which is cool and refreshing.
Why did I think it would be bitter?
At this point, I have to assume there really was a giant, and that he not only gave me the use of his spear, but he took off my shackles and treated my wrists.
And…we talked…
Why do I get the feeling he didn’t like me?
Perhaps it would be best if I left.
But where would I go? Back to the beach where there’s barely any drinkable water and half the women would see me die of thirst? Clearly, the giant doesn’t want to kill me, or else I’d be dead, and I can’t ignore that I’m well cared for, waking on a bed of furs with food close by.
But was he altruistic in his intent? Or could he have other motives?
I’m reminded of the slavers who had also fed and watered me, though not as well as the giant man had.