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Old 07-09-2006, 12:58 PM   #52
Messenger of Hope
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Join Date: Jun 2005
Location: In a tiny, insignificant little town in one of the many States.
Posts: 5,228
Folwren is battling Black Riders on Weathertop.Folwren is battling Black Riders on Weathertop.

Kwell had not been knocked senseless when Imak had clubbed him, but he did lay still. His hand pressed against his head and he felt the blood trickle slowly between his fingers and course down his arm before it was soaked up into the dirty fabric of his sleeve. Through clenched teeth, he uttered horrible imprecations against both his back luck and the rider of the horse.

More than anything, he wanted to continue to fight. He dwelt on those scarce seconds of struggle, but found it impossible now to continue. His head buzzed and rang and the world spun around him every time he tried to move. The bouncing jolt of the horse made everything worse. The splitting head ache was getting worse every step and at the same time, his confusion and questions were rising.

Kwell thought he knew who these men were, but he wondered how they had ever found them. After weeks of hiding in the caves and not finding any sign of being tracked, followed, or discovered, it had seem reasonable to hope that they would never have been found. Of course, though, this would be just their luck. He ground his teeth in vexation and pain. Oh, great - now there were tears.

Angry with himself and his weakness, Kwell moved his hand away from his bleeding head. He braced it against the moving shoulder of the running horse and tried to push himself up. He would do his best to cause as much grievance as possible.

A hand grabbed the back of his neck and pushed him back down. The grip was strong as iron and hurt. Kwell winced and his hand flew to the man’s hand to try to push it away.

“Stay where you’re put, boy, and it’ll be better for you,” his captor growled. “No reason to make it worse for yourself.” It entered Kwell’s mind to obey and remain still – even to tell the man he would, so long as he let him go. The next moment he shut such thoughts out of his mind completely, once more clenching his jaw and causing his teeth to grind against each other. He would make no agreement, he would admit no defeat, and he would certainly not obey. But he found to disobey was impossible now. The hand did not move, and his head pounded as though all of his blood were trying to get there all at once. He grew dizzier at every passing moment and the rushing images in the dim world of night confused him even farther.

How long would this last, he wondered? And what would happen when it was over?

Last edited by Folwren; 07-09-2006 at 08:00 PM.
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