Fates of Wind – Part II

Sephir's trembling hands scooped up handfuls of forest sand, slipping through her fingers like time slipping through her grasp. Her voice, wavering with a mixture of fear and defiance, broke the tense silence that hung in the air. "I'm just a potter's girl," she began, her voice quivering like a leaf in the wind. "The goods I carry are nothing special, just a few silver coins' worth."

The bandits, drawn to her ethereal beauty, had momentarily shifted their gaze from the allure of wealth to the allure of her presence. One of them, a sinister grin etched across his face, retorted, "We're not just interested in robbing people. Women like you can fetch quite a price in our line of work. You, my dear, are the perfect commodity."

Sephir's eyes flashed with a blend of fury and determination. In that pivotal moment, she made a decision that would alter the course of her fate. With swift resolve, she stood up and hurled the sand into the eyes of the advancing bandits, blinding them temporarily. Without a moment's hesitation, she fled, leaving her cart behind, and plunged into the depths of the forest.

The bandits, still struggling to clear their obstructed vision, stumbled and cursed as they gave chase. "Damn you, you little rat! If we catch you, you won't get off easy!" one of them bellowed in frustration. They sprinted into the forest, their pursuit fueled by rage and desperation.

Sephir raced through the woods, her heart pounding like a drum, her breaths quickening as she strained to maintain her breakneck pace. She knew that stopping now meant a grim fate—a fate she would not accept. These men would exploit her and condemn her to a life of torment in a brothel. Death was preferable to such a destiny, but would it not be an act of cowardice?

She ran as swiftly as a mortal could, her body pushed to its limits. Yet, her strength waned, and exhaustion began to weigh her down. Desperate for a moment's respite, she sought shelter behind a tree. But fate, it seemed, had other designs for her this day. As she caught her breath and planned her next move, the forest floor's uneven terrain played a cruel trick on her. A hidden tree root sent her sprawling to the ground.

The bandits, their vision gradually clearing, heard her fall and zeroed in on her location. Sephir, dirtied and bloodied, attempted to rise, realizing that rest would elude her for now. As she struggled to her feet, she spotted the relentless bandits closing in behind her, their malevolent grins illuminated by the pale moonlight.

Her clothes smeared with mud and her knees oozing blood, Sephir resumed her desperate flight, fueled by a fierce determination to evade capture. She darted through the forest's winding paths, taking unpredictable turns in a bid to elude her pursuers.

The relentless chase continued, with the bandits hot on her heels. Sephir, her strength nearly spent, tore a piece of her skirt and tied it around her bleeding knees, all while tears streamed down her dirt-streaked cheeks. She cursed her beauty in her thoughts, wondering if her appearance was the very reason she had become their prey. Perhaps if she were less comely, the bandits might have spared her. The gods had blessed her with allure but cursed her with a fragile frame.

Sephir maneuvered through the woods, each passing moment bringing the bandits closer. In her mind, she prayed for strength to confront her pursuers, but against three formidable men, she knew she stood no chance. Her beauty, which had been both her gift and her curse, now seemed more a curse than ever.

As Sephir ran, she approached a small clearing, her heart pounding like a desperate plea for salvation. She hid behind a tree, gasping for breath, her ragged sobs muted by her surroundings. Her hopes for a brief respite were dashed when she heard the bandits approaching, their footsteps heavy with menace.

"Where did that wretched girl run off to?" grumbled Ajax, the most physically imposing of the bandits.

"She can't have gone far," Jack replied, scanning the forest for signs of their quarry. "Let's keep searching."

"I'll make her regret this," added Flint, his tone oozing with malevolence.

Flint, the closest to Sephir's hiding place, suddenly noticed bloodstains on the ground, leading directly behind a tree. He signaled the others, and a conspiratorial nod confirmed their intent.

"Yes, we shall make her pay," Ajax growled, his eyes glinting with sinister intent. "Let's not waste any more time."

They approached the tree with a newfound determination, encircling it with predatory anticipation. The terrified Sephir, with no escape in sight, fainted from shock or perhaps acceptance of her gruesome fate. The bandits, eager to fulfill their vile desires, were left with expressions of disappointment as they gazed upon their unconscious prey.

Their cold eyes were still fixed on her motionless form as they deliberated the woman's unknown destiny. "A tragic loss," Ajax lamented, the echoes of his words penetrating the weighty silence that had befallen them, "her value greatly diminishes if she is not sold in her current state." His sentiment resonated with the rest of the rugged crew, as dismayed expressions gradually displaced their previous satisfaction.

"A single taste wouldn't hurt, would it?" Jack's voice radiated a sense of entitlement, his bluntness indicative of the challenging life led by these men. They felt their demanding work warranted hidden pleasures such as this.

A single censure from Flint embodied the voice of reason that lingered in the silent room. He hoisted their captive, named Sephir, into air effortlessly and efficiently constricted her lithe frame with rough ropes. "Settle down Jack," Flint's stern voice doused the growing flame of rebellion, "we have procured this woman. She is merchandise ready for sale, that's all there is to it." The gruff cadence of his tone confirmed their intention. Ajax echoed the sentiment, a tacit endorsement that re-established peace among them. Yet, Jack's face revealed hidden disappointment.

As they relocated her unconscious body back to the carriage, it was clear that they were preparing to set off once again into the unforgiving wilderness. No sooner had Sephir's delicate form hit the carriage floor than the chilling sound of a howl pierced the tranquil night. It appeared as destiny was once again ready to assert itself into the unfolding story. Never retreating, relentless in its pursuit, it was time for the hunters to become the hunted. The uncanny sound left them uneasy; could it be a divine intervention? Were celestial beings overseeing their unjust actions? Only time could tell.