The campfire crackled softly, casting flickering shadows that danced among the towering trees of the dense forest.
Night had fully descended, bringing with it a serene calmness that contrasted sharply with the tension brewing within the camp.
Rena sat with her back against a sturdy oak, her wrists bound by iron shackles that clinked softly with her slightest movement.
Hunger gnawed at her insides, intensified by the mouthwatering aroma of roasting meat wafting through the air. It had been over a day since she last ate, and her body screamed for sustenance.
Nearby, soldiers huddled close to the fire, their voices low but laced with disdain.
Nearby, soldiers huddled close to the fire, their voices low but laced with disdain.
soldier1
We shouldn't be feeding her.
One muttered, casting a wary glance in Rena's direction.
soldier1
She's dangerous.
Another sneered, his lip curling in disgust.
soldier 2
Let her starve. A witch doesn't deserve our food.
Rena's lips curled into a smirk.
Rena
Afraid a 'witch' might outmatch you even when she's starving? Pathetic.
The first soldier bristled, his hand inching toward his weapon.
soldier1
Watch your tongue, witch, or I'll—
Rena
You'll what?
Rena interrupted, her eyes gleaming with challenge.
Rena
Cower behind your comrades? Or perhaps you'd prefer to test your mettle against a shackled woman?
His face reddened, but he made no move to approach her. The others chuckled nervously, their unease palpable.
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