"So, it's you, just as I said," he spoke with her as his reavers finished gearing up and began to move out. "Coming with us, I suppose?" He eyed her condition speculatively. Her hide now bore scarring, far more than he'd inflicted. It seemed she'd gained in experience significantly, which was important for her if she was to go viking.
"Yes, Captain Hroarr," she replied pertly, sending him a slit-eyed smirk at knowing his name. He just huffed a laugh through his nose and shook his head. It wasn't as if it was hard to learn who he was, once she was in the pride, but it still amused him. "I intend to be an asset on this trip," she added stoutly. She had no adornments or other gear about her, but her demeanor said she meant business.
He let the smile fade and gave her a solemn nod. "So I expect out of any freeborn seeking to become a reaver. If you become a liability, you get sent home." He gave her a stern look. "This isn't fun and games, this is the lifeblood of our pride." When he assessed that she understood, he went on, turning to follow the last of his reavers out into the roguelands, "We have gotten word of a caravan of goods and travelers that have banded together to try and make their trip shorter and safer by sheer numbers, cutting close to our known patrols."
He glanced at her again, but her eyes were fixed on those ahead of them, who had broken into a steady lope. She followed suit before he could prod her to, and he quirked a half-smile before going after her, catching up easily with his longer legs. "They've been getting bolder this way for a while, and it's time to teach them to mind themselves and not assume there is safety in numbers."
It was to be more than the typical smash-and-grab. This time they were going to be more brutal than Hroarr generally preferred being, but if his band didn't do this, more innocents would be hurt in the long run, and that wasn't something he could have on his conscience. Better to make a strong statement here and now to warn the rest away. "There will be plenty of loot to share out, even for you," he added, "but there will be killing this time around, as well as the taking of thralls."
He glanced at her again to gauge her reaction. Not all newcomers did well with the idea of thralls, and others took too it entirely too eagerly for his taste. It was with satisfaction that he saw her jaw clench but nothing more. "You will be expected to participate in all aspects," he added in warning. "If you cannot stomach it, this is not for you, and you should turn back." It would be the last time he made that offer, but he felt better having done so. Everyone deserved a chance to rethink this life before they committed acts beyond their conscience's bearing.
She shook her head and shot him a lofty look, eyes hard and jaw firm. "I knew what I was doing when I came to join your band," she told him steadily. "Death happens to those who resist. Thralls are those too weak to fend for themselves, so they might as well serve us." It did sound as if it went against some inner part of her, but it was also clear that she refused to let that stop her. "And then there's the bounty they'll be carrying." She glanced at him again, legs pumping rhythmically as her grin flashed with healthy avarice. "It's time I looked like I belonged here, don't you think?"
His only answer was a deep, chest-vibrating laugh.
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Their goal was several day's travel from the dens. The trip out was quiet, without anything more than prey animals that scattered as the hefty band went loping by. Ana wasn't used to traveling quite this intently, but had done plenty enough long-term traveling to have her stamina and endurance up to the task. She stayed close in with the band and didn't wander off. Now was not the time to explore. She was here to work, and until the task was done and they were back in the dens, her time was not her own.
She'd been treated coolly but not unkindly by Hroarr's regular reavers. Hroarr himself tended to be busy circumventing the band's edges, keeping an eye out for opportunities, and coordinating plans with those he was placing in charge of various tasks. Then came the day when a cloud of dust appeared on the horizon, and Hroarr softly called them all to a slow walk. He nodded to two of their number, who took right and left flank. The rest of them, as had been discussed each night, spread out and padded softly, taking care not to raise a cloud of dust of their own.
From what they had been able to gather, the group they were stalking was mostly made of up smaller felines, with perhaps a lion or two added. The plan, as laid out by their Captain, was to quietly and carefully follow the caravan at a distance that was just beyond sight, keeping downwind to avoid alerting their prey. When the caravan bedded down for the night, they would close in closer, but would wait until the wee hours of the night. That was when they would strike.
It all went according to plan, until the stars shone brilliantly above their heads, and Ana crouched within sight of Hroarr. He had spoken to her the night before about her role.
"I want you to stay close to me," he told her plainly, "not because I don't trust you or because you are a female to be protected." He gave her a stern eye over that, conveying his sincerity. She believed him, even though it seemed as if perhaps he might have protected her if she'd asked. She wouldn't. She was here to prove herself a fighter, not prove herself a wimp. "You watch my back while I focus on those causing trouble. Don't be afraid to strike, use what force is needed to subdue them and keep yourself and me safe."
She'd nodded soberly, heart thudding fast in her chest at the very idea of combat of this sort. Now, huddled close to the ground in the dark, her pelt and his nearly blending into the shadows entirely, she had a brief surge of uncertainty. As much as getting into the pride had been a test, this was even more so. Was she cut out for this headlong, bold, assertive life?
But then Hroarr was moving, and there were roars from the other side of the caravan's camp, and she had no more time to consider. She shadowed him, scanning the camp as they surged in. Another male lion lunged to his feet and dove straight for Hroarr. Fangs flashing, the Captain rose to meet him in a great clash of bodies and claws and blood. This would be no thrall, and therefore he would have to die. He did what he had to, and before long, the male lay at his feet, bubbling breaths fading swiftly. He glanced around and found his newest member in fierce combat with a crazed female cheetah. Confident she'd manage just fine, he turned and went to assist one of his own with two hyena harassing him.
Ana was surprised at how much instinct kicked in when she felt threatened. She took out the irrational cheetah, then battered a youthful wild dog into submission. The next creature she came across, though, was no threat at all. It was a little female cheeton, built light and delicate and with her pupils dilated to huge black discs of fright.
"D-don't, please!" Tipa squeaked as the dark demoness of a lion loomed close. "Please!" She didn't understand at all what was going on, and was cowering behind the fallen body of a portly leopard that was draped in shiny things. She'd been traveling with him, just for the fun of seeing new places. The leopard had assured her, promised her, that she'd be safe! That they would be well-protected! It had all been a lie, and she sobbed unabashedly before the black, bloody paws that came closer yet. "Please, take what you want, I don't want to die!"
Mildly non-plussed, Ana stopped and gazed down at the trembling cheeton. This was... different. How was she supposed to handle this? She glanced around, taking stock of how their attack was going and to see where Hroarr was. She was supposed to be guarding his back, after all, but it seemed he himself was guarding someone else. She swung her face back to the smaller feline, mulling. Thralls were those who couldn't fend for themselves, who could help those who could, and that, Hroarr had told her privately, might need protecting. She could only imagine what some brute like the yellow male she'd defeated might do with a slender female like this.
That made up her mind. She leaned in close until her whiskers brushed the muzzle of the cheeton female. "You are mine," she told her intensely. "You are my thrall, I claim you. You will come back with me and serve me." She gazed steadily into the terrified face, then softened her own expression. "Don't worry, little sister. I will not hurt you. Being mine, I will protect you. This...," she glanced around her in disdain, "will never happen to you again."
Tipa was having trouble grasping what the lioness meant at first. She just stared back and tried not to shiver too hard. She was... owned now? Like a pretty pelt, or a shiny rock? Her breath caught in her throat and she very nearly melted into terrified tears. What a nightmare! She hadn't signed on for such danger! She wasn't made for this at all! She gulped back the sobs, somehow mesmerized by the intense periwinkle eyes. She nearly jumped out of her skin when the lioness called her "little sister." Was she... lying? Could she play such a cruel game? She had just seen this lioness kill someone else! But... but... the wheels of Tipa's mind began to grind into functioning agian... but that female had fought back. Had attacked this lioness, in fact.
She blinked back at her... owner?... and nodded slowly, timidly. Better to placate and live than to fall apart and perhaps be slain for being too much trouble! She gulped again, nearly choking on the fear and despair that tightened her throat. This was not how her life was supposed to go! She was a slave. A... thrall? She huddled down miserably as the cries of death and pain faded, and the attackers gathered together in the middle of the camp. Other creatures also huddled here and there, looking as shocked and numb as she felt. She wasn't alone then, there were others being taken too. But not by the black female with the tangled yellow forelock. As far as Tipa could tell, she was the only one claimed by her. There was a lot of laughter and cheerful shoulder-bumping going on among the attackers, and then they scattered to begin gathering things from the corpses.
Tipa had had enough. She turned her face away and broke down into tears, though she kept them silent. Sometime later, as dawn broke, she was nudged awake by a black paw. She opened her crusty, sore eyes to gaze up at her new mistress, who was now bedecked in quite a few baubles and pelts. She handed Tipa a thick piece of leather that was studded with what looked like turquoise rocks. "This is for you," she told her a little roughly. "Wear it to show you are mine." She then leaned closer and added more softly, "It will keep any of the others from messing with you. I promise, you will be fed and provided for, so long as you do your best for me."
Tipa could only swallow hard and nod acceptance. She looped the leather about her own neck and tied a clumsy knot. Someone would have to do a better job later, but for now, it would stay put.
"Now come, it's time to leave." Ana turned away from the raw misery on her new thrall's face, steeling her heart against it as best she could. She had checked with Hroarr that she was allowed to claim a thrall on her first viking, and discovered he had done the same thing. He hadn't told her much about it, but she had the odd impression that his own heart ached for the thralls as well, and may very well have done something similar to what she had done.
She sucked a deep breath and lifted her chin. Her forelock fell to one side in a braid, after the fashion of the other reavers, and she was draped in her own small portion of the wealth they had taken from the caravan. Other thralls stumbled and groaned around them as they all left behind the scene or carnage. It hadn't been pretty, and it certainly hadn't been clean. There had been more lions in the party than they had been led to believe, and several reavers had gotten rather injured. But they had prevailed, and now were bringing home the spoils. Her first viking... a success. She had a right to be proud. Next time, she'd work hard. The time after that, she'd fight fiercely. Many times she was willing to head out and do this again and again, until she had earned herself a name, a place, and the respect of her fellow reavers.
For she was a reaver now.
