After that, Anning didn't stop running. She could feel sweat running down her back, her chest rose and fell asleep she moved through the crowd.
The noise of the market had turned distant at this point, why? Because she didn't have the strength to keep listening to a bunch of people talking.
I didn't even apologize...
She thought, the image of the woman she had knocked flashed briefly through her mind. The way she was dressed and how she had stared up at Anning without a flicker of emotion.
Weird.
Even if it wasn't exactly her fault, that had been rude of her.
'Mysterious Lady, wherever you are... I'm really sorry.' Anning said inwardly.
She swallowed hard and shook her head almost immediately.
"What the hell am I thinking about?" She whispered to herself.
Apologizing... worrying about manners...now of all times?!
She frowned. She was a slave.
A slave who had just slapped a nobleman and was now running away from people who claimed to own her.
She had guards chasing her and people looking at her like she was weird!
And here she was thinking about her being rude to a stranger. A stranger she might not even get to meet again.
"Focus, Anning." She muttered under her breath, her pace faltering for a second before she forced herself to keep going.
She turned, running into a narrow path, she had to slow down as it was slightly cramped in there. Her legs were starting to hurt, each step more difficult than the last.
She didn't even hear the footsteps behind her. Not until—
The back of her dress was grabbed by someone.
"Ah!"
A small gasp slipped out of her before she could stop it.
The person holding the back of her dress yanked her backwards, forcing her to a halt. She spun around immediately, her eyes blazing with anger.
"Hey! Let go of me!" That single sentence had her panting slightly.
The man holding her didn't look the least bit affected at her words.
He stood behind her in heavy armor that gleamed faintly under the sun. He had a long scar that stretched from his right eyebrow down to his cheek. It made his now expressionless face look even scarier.
Behind him stood four expressionless other men dressed the same way.
Anning didn't say anything for a moment as she realized something. These were the same guards from earlier.
Her gaze sharpened as she reached up to pull the man's hand off her clothes, but he didn't loosen his grip. Not even a little bit.
"Who are you?" She demanded. "And what's the meaning of this? What did I do to you?"
The scarred man looked down at her as though she had just said something amusing.
"You offended someone you shouldn't have. You'll be paying for it, soon enough." He said flatly.
Anning scoffed, despite the feeling of uneasiness forming in her chest.
"Are you serious?" She shot back. "Who exactly did I offend this time? That pig from earlier? If that's the case, then he deserved it."
The man didn't respond and that alone irritated her.
"I said let go of me," She repeated, her voice firm.
When he still didn't release her, Anning raised her hand and reached for his hair. The plan was to grab a handful and yank it.
But before she could even touch him, he shoved her away.
Hard.
Anning let out a small gasp as she stumbled backwards, not having enough time to balance herself. She fell to the floor with a loud thud, her stomach clenched in pain.
"Ow—!"
Anning glared at the scar faced man and then pushed herself off the floor.
"What is wrong with you?!" She snapped, brushing dirt off her potato sack dress. "You can't just go around grabbing and throwing people."
The men standing behind him didn't even twitch at her words. The scarred man only looked at her, his expression as cold and unmoved as before.
Anning felt as though she would die for the second time. But this time, due to frustration.
"I'm not going with you," she said calmly, folding her arms against her chest. "I didn't do anything wrong. So you have no right to take me anywhere."
She took a step back, preparing to run again. But the man moved faster.
Just as she turned, he stepped forward, slipped an arm around her, and smoothly lifted her off the ground.
"What…hey!"
The next second, everything turned upside down and Anning's stomach slammed against something hard.
"Fuck." She hissed, pain shooting through her midsection. The armour beneath her dug into her stomach, making it hard to breathe.
"Be careful." She whined, her voice strained. "Do you know how to carry a person at all?!"
She wriggled, kicking her legs and twisting her body in an attempt to free herself, but it only seemed to make things worse. His grip around her legs tightened, holding her firmly in place.
"Put me down!" She snapped, hitting his armour covered back with her fists. "Didn't you hear me? I said I'm not going with..."
The sound of metal being sharpened cut her off.
Lin Anning turned her head slightly and one of the men standing beside her, hand drew out his sword.
This wasn't like the usual plastic ones. It was freaking real.
The blade was literally glittering, catching light as he pointed it right at her
She swallowed hard and without thinking, she slapped a hand over her mouth.
The scarred man spoke once more, his voice calm and indifferent.
"Go on. Keep squirming," he said. "Let's if I won't slice your head off."
Anning felt sick. Her body went stiff, the fight or defiance in her disappeared instantly. Tears welled up in her eyes, but they didn't fall.
Seeing that Anning wasn't struggling, the man adjusted her slightly over his shoulder and began walking.
Each step sent a dull ache through her body, the armor pressing painfully against her. She bit down on her lower lip, forcing herself not to make a sound.
After all, she didn't want to get beheaded.