[Tevildo]

With his body sprawled over the horse's withers and his head hanging down, Dorran managed to open one eye and unsuccessfully tried to get a sideways glance at the rider in the saddle. His head throbbed and, even worse, there was a sharp pain on his left side that seemed to rise and fall with every breath he took. As he managed to lift his head slightly and glimpsed the slavers' camp just a short distance ahead, he began to suspect the worst: he was being hauled off to slavery. It was a misery that Dorran had personally experienced as a child and one that he had no intention of repeating.

Unwilling to acquiesce in such a fate, the young man summoned his last ounce of strength, bellowed out at the top of his lungs in the manner of one of the Riders of Rohan, and leapt off the horse, half sliding and falling and finally landing on the ground in an ungainly heap. He struggled to rise and run away but his knees buckled under him before he could take more than a half dozen paces. The rider was on top of him in a flash, glaring down and commanding him to close his mouth, or they would both be dragged off by the inhabitants of the slavers’ camp.

A wave of embarrassment swept over Dorran. He had evidently made a large miscalculation. The woman’s tattered clothes and the brand that showed on her ankle confirmed that his rescuer was not a slaver but one of the ex-slaves. There was also the fact that his rescuer had attempted to bandage his wounds, something no slaver would ever have done.

Seeing his error, Dorran struggled to spit out a hasty explanation and apology, using his most gentle and respectful tone. “M’lady, I am sorry. Forgive me. I had two slavers on my tail. I feared you were one of these. Instead, I see you have aided me. For that I am grateful. My friends and I were here to rescue the two children from the pit. We come from lands far west to help lead the slaves of Nurn to freedom. Perhaps, lady, you are one of these?”

Dorran grimaced and held his side as another wave of pain descended. He did not even wait for the lady’s answer. The words came more slowly now as he struggled to get them out. “My friends….my friends are west of the camp by the stream bed. I…must….go now. I must help them. For they will need all the stout arms they can get to strike against the foul jailers. Go back to safety. Please....take your horse. Flee. I will make my own way to my friends.”

With that Dorran leaned back, held his head, and moaned.