AspiringWritefag
!!12aZPDwdMbs
10/16/2025, 8:33:51 PM
No.42681105
>>42623787
> The dreaded time had come.
> Thistle had talked a big, stoic game in the morning, when the evening had seemed so far away, and her head was still a little fuzzy from the night of debauchery. Now she was headed out of the camp with Willow, and her confidence was flagging a little. She wished she'd saved some of the beer. It would ease the inevitable pain.
> He was taking her away from people because, in his own words, they had to settle a private matter and it was no business of anyone else. Secretly, Thistle thought it was because Willow disliked Saule enough to make sure there would be no witnesses to tell her what had happened.
> Whatever his reasons, the privacy would suit her just fine. That she might be in danger from Willow also occurred to her, but she'd dismissed it. Just as she had grown into the mare she was today, and just as Salki had taken on the mantle of the Chieftain, so had Willow changed.
> Not as much as them, perhaps, but he was a respected hunter now and that meant he kept his word. Besides, she'd asked Buygra to come look for her if she wasn't back before dark. Just a little precaution of her own.
> A glance at the sky showed that to be about an hour away, at least by her quick estimation. The sun had gone down, but it would be a while longer before all the light had bled out of the sky. Surely the punishment would be done before that, right? However much Willow disliked her, he wouldn't beat her for an hour straight. Surely not. She shook her head to get rid of these thoughts, which were making her breathe faster and her heart race.
"[Where are we going?]" she asked, more to fill up the silence than because she really wanted to know.
> "[Just over there.]"
> He pointed, but to her eyes it looked like a nondescript patch of the steppe. It was flat and covered by yellow grass. There was very little of the fresh stuff to have, and Thistle wasn't looking forward to the winter, when even this poor fare would run out.
> Then again, she wasn't going to spend another winter in the nomads' lands.
"[Do we really need to do this?]"
> Willow stopped and turned to look at her. "[I thought you found some honor, but I guess I should have known,]" he said. "[That is why I brought us here. Come.]"
> Unnerved, but unwilling to show further weakness, even before him, Thistle approached. She watched Willow reach into a bag he'd been carrying.
> "[If you run away now, I will hunt you down and beat you much worse, understand?]"
> Her ears immediately folded and she gave a weak nod. She resolved to stay put, no matter what he had in the bag. Surely it was nothing which would draw blood, right? Willow was out for punishment, not sadism!
> The dreaded time had come.
> Thistle had talked a big, stoic game in the morning, when the evening had seemed so far away, and her head was still a little fuzzy from the night of debauchery. Now she was headed out of the camp with Willow, and her confidence was flagging a little. She wished she'd saved some of the beer. It would ease the inevitable pain.
> He was taking her away from people because, in his own words, they had to settle a private matter and it was no business of anyone else. Secretly, Thistle thought it was because Willow disliked Saule enough to make sure there would be no witnesses to tell her what had happened.
> Whatever his reasons, the privacy would suit her just fine. That she might be in danger from Willow also occurred to her, but she'd dismissed it. Just as she had grown into the mare she was today, and just as Salki had taken on the mantle of the Chieftain, so had Willow changed.
> Not as much as them, perhaps, but he was a respected hunter now and that meant he kept his word. Besides, she'd asked Buygra to come look for her if she wasn't back before dark. Just a little precaution of her own.
> A glance at the sky showed that to be about an hour away, at least by her quick estimation. The sun had gone down, but it would be a while longer before all the light had bled out of the sky. Surely the punishment would be done before that, right? However much Willow disliked her, he wouldn't beat her for an hour straight. Surely not. She shook her head to get rid of these thoughts, which were making her breathe faster and her heart race.
"[Where are we going?]" she asked, more to fill up the silence than because she really wanted to know.
> "[Just over there.]"
> He pointed, but to her eyes it looked like a nondescript patch of the steppe. It was flat and covered by yellow grass. There was very little of the fresh stuff to have, and Thistle wasn't looking forward to the winter, when even this poor fare would run out.
> Then again, she wasn't going to spend another winter in the nomads' lands.
"[Do we really need to do this?]"
> Willow stopped and turned to look at her. "[I thought you found some honor, but I guess I should have known,]" he said. "[That is why I brought us here. Come.]"
> Unnerved, but unwilling to show further weakness, even before him, Thistle approached. She watched Willow reach into a bag he'd been carrying.
> "[If you run away now, I will hunt you down and beat you much worse, understand?]"
> Her ears immediately folded and she gave a weak nod. She resolved to stay put, no matter what he had in the bag. Surely it was nothing which would draw blood, right? Willow was out for punishment, not sadism!