Ava Wenham is currently doing what she considers to be the dumbest thing in her entire life. After he saves her from certain death, she is honor bound to help the mercenary Andreios in a request. Sadly, his request is that he wants her help in killing... her. Apparently he hates magic of any kind, & will stop at nothing to kill all of her bloodline, which is already dwindling thanks to the efforts of people like him. She's going to have to stop him now, one way or another. But she's going to have to do it without letting him realize who she is.
"She's this way!" Ava heard a loud voice over her shoulder, renewing her efforts to run faster. A bunch of slave traders had noticed her in town, & like an idiot, she'd let it slip that she didn't have an escort. There was no quicker way to get scum like that to try & tie you down for the highest bidder. If only her magic wasn't so suppressed during twilight hour, she'd trap these bastards into a pit of quick sand, or at least tie them up with vines. Anything to slow them would work. But alas, she was stuck trampling through the trees & bushes, getting covered in mud & foliage all along the way.
Off in the distance, Ava heard a river & felt excitement run through her body. She could use the water as a power amplifier for her spells! Ava began to push herself to run harder, knowing that the slavers were still catching up. Were these guys even human? Finally, Ava made her way into the clearing, only to be dismayed at the sight of a man sitting before a burning camp fire, right next to her precious river. She couldn't do magic in front of a complete stranger.
All she could see on him was his brown hair & tanned skin before something slammed into her from behind & she was flung into the ground. Her vision blacked out for just a moment before a searing pain from the feel of her hair being jerked on made her rise to her knees, an involuntary yelp escaping her lips. Two other men besides the guy pulling her to her feet by her hair came into the clearing, brandishing their long swords to the man at his camp. The man moved his hand to the back of her neck & used his other hand to securely hold her arms behind her back in a vice grip.
"& who the hell are you?" one of the slavers drawled confidently, "If you know this girl, let us know if she's a harlot or pure. Virgins catch a higher price on the market." The men snickered at their little joke, Ava still having enough sense to rip the skirt of her dress out of the hand of one of the slavers. She didn't want their disgusting hands on her; she felt gross enough being humiliated in front of a stranger, with no way of using her magic to defend herself.