“Freedom is a burden. You should be glad I took it away from you,” he growled at as he pushed her back in line. His voice butchering the only language she’d ever known and his rough hands on her shoulders sending fear down her spine.
She stared at him, defiance shining from her eyes, even as her knees trembled with fear. Spit welled up in her cheeks and she waited for the opportune moment to spit at him. As he walked past the line once more, his eyes roving their naked bodies, she spat at his feet.
With one swift motion, she found her face pushed into the red mud of Iusto. The taste of manure in her mouth and a burning pain in the back of her neck.
“She’s mine to deal with.” At once, the pain was removed and she was lifted off her feet. Face to face with the barbarian, his face covered by the traditional mask of an Obago warlord.