Something moist and slick was dripping onto her face.
Mica grimaced and tried to lift her hand but it was stopped short by a weight around the wrist.
The dripping was followed by the brush of fur… whiskers… and a deadly low growl.
Her eyes opened at the invasive sound, squinting up at a pair of eyes the color of burning coal gazing down. Her heart leaped into her throat and in a dizzying movement, she reeled back as the beast snapped its glistening teeth where her neck had been.
She screamed and tried raising her arms to shield her face from the lunging beast, when a voice spoke.
"Heel."
The beast whined, suddenly a puppy in the face of its master, and dropped its hind legs to the ground.
Mica was still pressed against the wall, her face angled away and eyes shut.
"You can open your eyes."
Slowly, carefully, she peeked from between her lashes at the man who stood by the door. He was tall and rigid looking with half his face cast in the shadows but even that expression was severe.
Mica couldn't press any further back against the wall. "I–I didn't–" she cleared her throat when it caught, "... I didn't do anything, I swear. "
The beast-like wolf glanced up at the man in reverence as he crouched before her, head tilting to the side in quiet scrutiny.
"issachar." He uttered with a gleam of contempt in his eyes, "I suppose you are the one he speaks of."
"I fail to perceive why he has chosen you…" He continued thoughtfully reaching out and raking a clawed hand through the beast's matted fur.
Mica found it difficult to parse what he was saying. She shifted and the chains groaned on the stone cold floor, "Where am I?"
His head tilted to the side, an eyebrow cocked in mild amusement and he began to speak but decided otherwise. He rose swiftly and gracefully despite his size, and clicked his tongue at the wolf which moved like his own shadow.
"I will return for you in a few."
"Wait–" the shackles clinked with her abrupt movements, "Where are you going?"
Issachar turned then, his eyes dark and unkind. His teeth gleamed in the darkness, "It would be wise of you to remember that questions are something I am not fond of." A pause, "and neither is your King."
The door and darkness swallowed her whole.
She tried to think back on what had happened but her memory was fuzzy and the dull ache in her skull only began to subside. A vision of the King standing before her manifested, his dark hair swept back catching cold light on the edges of silver.
He had fed her not long after her request; bearing forth fruit, fresh bread still steaming from the oven and a pitcher of warm milk which left her belly full.
The plan had been simple then; eat what he had to offer and make for the hills or wherever the next human destination would be.
But sleep crept along the edges of her periphery and her tongue felt heavy for every word she uttered seemed to be slurred and a struggle.
He stood by watching her, one gloved hand resting on the flank of his horse and patiently running a hand through its mane.
Mica remembered focusing on that hand– the same one which had carded through her hair a night prior whilst cocooned in his coat.
The last thought she had was simple and true.
You have nice hands.
Right before darkness took over.
Her shackled wrist rose to her flushed cheek in quiet terror, "He drugged me."
Her head snapped up as the door unlocked and two men walked in.
The struggle was brief. Mica tried and failed to strengthen her knees; whatever the King had put in her food was yet to wear off. She slumped against one of the soldiers and reeled back at the feel of fur rather than skin.
They carried her with ease out of the front doors and down a hallway then up a flight of stairs. Only then could Mica hear the distant noises of people milling about, and a loud voice declaring the price of people, auctioning them off.
No…
The sun was dull outside, hidden behind low hanging grey clouds yet still the sudden onslaught of light had her squinting and angling her head away.
And then she smelled it.
The charred smell of flesh burning.
Mica blinked and peered through, heart slamming wildly as her vision adjusted to the sight before her. She saw it all then; women and children lying on their backs with soldiers kneeling on either of their wrists and legs sprawling them out like starfish.
She tried digging her heels into the ground but their grips were iron-tight as they carried her through the crowd.
Faces were contorted in agony, others had their mouths wide in silent screams as pokers were pressed into the flesh of their cheeks, arms, chests, buttocks…anywhere their owners deemed fit enough.
And when the brand was lifted off, the insignia of their masters were fresh and a vile red.
"No!"
Mica was struggling now, twisting and turning in their grips as they hauled her up a stage.
The terror was nauseating, she tried rolling over but one kicked her feet from underneath and she landed on her knees hard enough to rattle her teeth. "Please please please—"
One guard stood before her and grabbed a hold of the front of her chest, with unrestrained ease he tore her tunic down the center revealing her nudity to the crowd. The cold hit sudden and she gasped trying to hunch over to shield herself but he grabbed her hair in a vice grip and drew her face skyward.
Mica tried seeking out the mercy in his eyes but found only an animal staring back through those sockets. Dead inside.
Her lip trembled.
A soldier wearing gloves removed the red-hot pocket from the fire and spat on it. It sizzled as steam curled into the atmosphere.
Mica began to buck wildly. She fought against the man's grip and bared her teeth in unrestrained fear, until his large palm curled into a fist and connected with her cheekbone.
Her head whipped to the side before snapping back into position by the grip in her hair.
The pain stunned her silent.
She tasted blood in her mouth.
"She's a wild thing."
The soldier gripped her gran and glanced down her naked chest, "Where'd the King want it?"
"Anywhere only He would see."
"Should've chosen the face."
A low chuckle passed between the men and she sobbed, her chest wracking violently with terror as adrenaline spiked through with no exit.
The guard holding her glanced down at her twisted face and sneered, "... He doesn't want her face, not this one."
Her skin tightened as the poker drew closer to her chest, the dangerous heat wafting over pale skin.
And then he pressed it.
Mica heard the sizzle.
Then felt the blinding heat.
She screamed.