Freya turned into a limp noodle when she was plucked off the ground and flung over Herryk's shoulder. She wanted to fight. She wanted to struggle and kick until he had to let her go, but there was just no fight left in her anymore. And his actions confused her, keeping her still.
Her face was plastered against his back, smacking against it with each bounce of his step.
"Why are yeh doings this?" She whispered against the skin of his back, sounding more like a frightened child than the Freya he was used to.