Each footfall of River's shoots panic up her knee, stabbing her heart with a pained intensity. Fear expands within her, threatening to break her skin. She struggles and fails to maintain each measured inhale.

Anita walks beside her in a manner of deference and submissiveness, head lowered to the floor, a shawl wrapped around her head to hide the formation of new bruises that stain her skin. Odin had done that to her, River realizes horrified.

Her stomach cartwheels at the prospect of what he might do to her.

"What does he want with me?" River finally manages to speak, a strange touch of pain in her voice. She glances sideways at Anita whose gait is monotonous and holds a slight limp to it, each footfall causes her to wince in mild discomfort. "Anita-"

"Just count to ten," the girl whispers in finality, though she does not look up, "count to ten and it will be all over. Or think of your family... or something other than..."

River pales significantly. Her words feel like the lash of a hunting-crop across her face and her steps falter to a halt, allowing Anita to walk further before she stops as well, peering piteously at River. Blooming bruise surfaces along her jawline and her eyes are bloodshot, dark crescents shadowing beneath.

Anita sighs long and spiritless, "River-"

"We must tell someone," Pressure rises in her mouth, causing a muscle to jump and twitch, "we must tell someone, Anita, before he-"

"Who can we tell?" Anita suddenly hisses, the wariness in her eyes dissolving to hardened acceptance. She steps towards her and with a controlled, lowered voice speaks; "Whom can we tell River? Who will listen to slaves? Who will help us? Have you forgotten where we currently stand?"

River bites the flesh of her inner cheek in frustrated contemplation, her heart tumbles about in her chest. "Then we must leave-"

Anita stares at her incredulously, as though her brain cells were leaking through her ears. "And go where?"

"Anywhere but here," River closes the distance between them and reaches a hand out, holding onto the hem of her blood-stained shawl, "I have been thinking of a possible escape route-"

"Oh, River-"

"No," River shakes her head, "listen to me... it is possible Ani. I have seen the road that forks up the hill, if we leave sometime before the camp departs for their kingdom, we can make it."

Anita's gaze remains shallow, unwilling to process the words before her. And yet, beneath the imperturbable expression lies a sliver of hope.

River uses the spark to light her flint, "the road paves towards the Mountains, we can survive as there is plenty of food and water from the streams. There's bound to be villages and towns if we move further-"

"What makes you think the creatures have not captured them?" Anita questions bitterly, lips pressing into a thin, stressed line. "What makes you think they cannot find us? We are humans, River, they could sniff our scents-"

"Then we strip and mask our scents. Use dirt, shrubs, herbs... hell I'll use my own defecation!"

Anita's nose scrunches in disgust, "Do not make such crude statements."

"My point is we can do it," another gentle tug of the shawl, "you and me... we can survive if it's the two of us."

Anita falters, seemingly contemplating over her words. Her lips part to speak but shut almost immediately at the sound of a familiar voice.

"Slave," Both girls flinch, Anita seemingly more as she nearly bumps into River. Odin stands a distance away in a plain shirt and pants, his thoughtful speculative gaze drifts between the two, settling on Anita in finality. "It seems you forgot my instructions."

Anita's head lowers and she clutches her hands so tight, her nails form crescent marks on the skin. "I was bringing her," she speaks with the painful precision of a schoolgirl who has been taught to recite some second-rate of elocution, "I apologize, master."

Odin does not regard her further as his attention slants towards River. The corner of his mouth quirks sardonically, "River," he calls with a gentle jerk of his head, "please."

It takes excruciating effort to obey and command her legs in his direction, all the while struggling not to glance over her shoulder at Anita. She feels those terrified eyes on her. River purses her lips to still the frightful quivering of her chin and she flexes her hands by her sides, ducking her head low as Odin holds the tent flap open.

The interior is much of what she expected. Large, neat, and with scarce furniture. She steps towards a corner, conscious of his leering figure which seems to be magnified within the enclosure.

River remains silent, watching him as a mouse would a hawk, with cautious intensity.

"Please," he pours wine into two goblets, waving an amiable hand at the divan. "Sit."

"I'm fine, thank you." River declines as politely as her stilting voice can.

Odin raises the goblet to his mouth, takes a long swig whilst his gaze remains fixated on her, then lowers it. He smacks his lips and draws a pink tongue over his lips.

"Sit." He commands and she hesitates long enough for a false encouraging smile to curve his lips; "Please, I would hate for you to stand." The offer, it seems, left no room for declination.

River manoeuvres past him and towards the divan. She perches on the very edge, tremors palpitating in her chest as Odin takes his place by her side, scooting even closer. "Drink," he insists, his voice as tangible as the stench of wine which pervades the room and presses the goblet in her palm.

River begins to pull back, "I cannot, Hadrius won't-"

Something dark and vicious flickers across his face, so fast River hardly caught sight of it. But she did, the flash of gold that slivered through his pupils and in turn, a dangerous low growl rumbles from his chest. "Drink."

Forcing down the caustic sting of bile as it bit in her throat, River raises the goblet to her mouth and takes a tentative sip.

"Good girl," Odin hums pleasantly whilst pressing his index finger beneath the cup, tipping it further back, "there we go... drink it all my sweet... just like that..."

The first swallow of acid sears heat across the back of her eyes and she struggles to breathe through her nose only to jolt away at the sudden feeling of his hand on her thigh. Odin is faster, his fingers dig into her flesh intently, holding her in place.

"Quiet yourself," despite the gentle command, his movements speak otherwise. "Take it off."

River tenses and drops the cup.

When he lunges, she does not react fast enough.

His large hands grab a hold of her shoulders and with specialized ease, clips the back of her knees with one of his legs, forcing her to the ground. A startled cry escapes her as she slams hard, every bolt searing heat through her body.

"I will have you." Odin hisses triumphantly, and grabbing a fistful of her hair, lifts her off the ground with ease. Her scalp burns as strands of hair rip away, River's lips part to scream again when he punches her gut.

River is unprepared for the blow and his fist drives into her belly like a cannonball, the crushing impact evacuating the wind from her lungs.

"You will either submit... or I will have you forcefully." He tosses her onto the bed and she doubles over incapacitated gasping for air. River feels his hand latch onto her ankle and drags her back towards the edge.

Before she can regain her breath, Odin clasps her stockings and with damaging ease, rips them away. "I'll go easy on you," he coerces, ripping her skirt, leaving her exposed in nothing but her inner garment and top.

River wheezes and coughs. "No, please, Hadrius will-"

"Will what?" Odin barks out a peal of ringing laughter, "what? Kill me? You are nothing but a mere mortal slave-" the mattress dips as he advances over her body, "if anything, the bastard might join in on the fun..." Odin's eyes feasts on River's bare legs and her gentle feminine curves hidden beneath layers of dirt clothing.

"Let's get this clothes off, then, hmm..." With brute strength, he forces her legs apart on a reconnaissance of the treasure he plans to plunder. Idly, he wonders if she keeps her pubic area immaculately groomed.

He does not see the subtle edging of her hand as it slides into her pocket.

And when he does, it is too late.

Mustering all her strength, River rips her hand from out of her pocket and swings it hard towards Odin's face. The dagger's blade winks wickedly as it cuts across the air and he turns a fraction early, catching the pointed edge as it aims for his eye.

River immediately releases the blade as it burrows into his right eye, a bellowing roar shaking her body and the tent along. She rolls out from beneath him, stumbling towards the exit with pieces of her clothing.

Fortunately, there was no one around the area, as most creatures had departed during the day leaving behind only slaves and a scarce handful of guards positioned far apart.

Still, River takes no chances. She sprints barefoot across the camp, daring not a glance over her shoulder. Not until the familiar building comes to view. She stumbles inside, tripping over her own feet and slamming on the ground, hard. Adrenaline forces her to her feet as she rushes towards the bedroom then whirls around, fumbling with the locks and latches on the door.

Her fingers tremble violently, seemingly unable to clasp the chain properly.

"Come on... come on... come on..." her throat swells with panic, cold perspiration surfacing along her forehead and upper lip. Finally, she slides the latch on and pushes away from the door, stepping back with her hands quaking by her side.

The back of her knees hit the divan, forcing her to sit.

She does not move, terrified gaze fixated on the door.

Watching.

Waiting.

Listening.

Dusk eddies along the horizon and with it carries a certain unnerving silence. River had not moved from her position on the couch, somehow expecting Odin's raging figure to barrel down the hallway and rip the door apart.

But he did not.

River blinks at the sound of noise and footsteps beyond the walls. The beasts had returned. She glances at the clock as dread claws at her throat upon the realization that she had not left to serve dinner.

River clenches her trembling hands into fists and draws a measured breath before rising. Each step towards the door surges a foreign type of terror through her body. Halting before the door, River shuts her eyes and carefully works the locks open then draws one last inhale as she gently opens it.

She is met with a bloody torso.

The sight startles and confuses her intermittently, and she blinks hard before stepping back reflexively as her gaze rises past the broad chest, powerful throat and finally meeting empty dark eyes.

River grows still, a hand of ice laying upon her heart as Hadrius savage, penetrating stare unhurriedly roams her face - the bruise along her cheekbone, the faint finger marks wrapped around her neck, then lowers towards her bare legs barely hidden beneath tattered clothing.

River wills herself to say something then, but words desert her.

Finally, Hadrius' eyes lift to her own.

A strange touch of disconnection edges in his voice. "Who was it?"