>>6245104

“She’s pregnant!” Shouts a woman in the crowd. “For pity’s sake, give her—”
The whip cracks and the throng shrieks, bending down to it.
Willow joins the others once again, the writhing and squirming in her stomach — in her womb — growing again to a fever pitch.
Goddammit.
Celaeno better be telling the truth about what she promised— even if she knows that these Kiengiri fuckers are just waiting to fuck her up at any moment.
But there is no other path for her.
Just like this swaying, swinging bridge.
She can probably take that guy’s whip from his hand and lash his skin until she rips it off — it’s what he would deserve.
But the last thing she needs is someone to notice her.
How ironic, considering what she tried to do all this time.
No going back. What would she even go back to?
Argia’s betrayed look? The others’ angry gazes, directed at her?
Ansàrra’s rage, turning her into a smouldering ruin?
No.
She continues… it’s all she knows.
That, and the squirming thing inside her—
Willow blinks.
Something else attracts her attention, so much that she slows down again, and someone stumbles against her from behind.
“Hey—” but she doesn’t care.
There is someone here.
She turns, catching just a hint of silver hair — her heart leaps into her throat.
“A-Argia?”
She has even made something for her.
She likes puppets, after all. She was going to give it back to her, or send it to her, or…
The moment passes.
The whip cracks, just besides her, and the thunder clap of murdered air booms against her ear.
Willow raises a hand, and quick as lightning, slaps the whip away.
She has no time for this.
“Argia?”
“Hey! What was—” the man groans. Who cares.
Is Argia here?Willow raises her voice.
“Argia!”
No reply.
From deep within her heart pours a great yell — Willow raises her head to the heavens and cries.
Once again, there is no answer.

[cont.]