Niara's Tales: Bow of the Righteous

Notes: Last chapter in this current litle set. Further chapters will probably move on from here, jumping forward to some other notbale events. We'll see. Tagging in this one probably ought to make mention of continued violence, nc and abuse, also anal in there well, in the case that some folks are happy to read about horrible violent rape, but can't stand the butt-sex... you never know. Please do comment and review, I'm interested in any criticisms at all, no matter how harsh.

====================

The Quality of Mercy

They fed her again as darkness fell, and she ate, much as she didn’t feel like it. It was a hard, sweetened bread of some sort that one of them, Edge she thought, fed to her piece by piece, in between sips of water. He had barely finished and retreated to play dice when Cameron approached her. He was glowering still, and pulled her loose without a word, dragging her gruffly back down to the small cell she’d come to loathe. She stumbled forward as he shoved her in, locking the door behind them, but quickly turned, squaring herself. Her limbs ached, stiff and tired, but she willed them not to tremble as she raised her fists. Cameron’s face was dark.

“Bet you’re feeling right pleased now that Marcus has patched you up, aren’t you bitch?” He stripped off his shirt and set his other weapons down on the far side of the bars. “You’re going to die soon, Little Whore, in this very cell, by my hand. You know that, everyone knows that… but you don’t fear me. I’m faster than you, stronger, more experienced; I’ve got men at my command and you at my mercy, but you don’t fear me. I could decide to kill you any time; I will, sooner or later, but you don’t even fear me. Why not!?” The last he almost shouted, but Niara just stared back, eyes hard, letting her hatred and fury flow out to him.

“Wouldn’t you like to know? Let’s dance, you sick bastard.” She struck first, darting forward as fast as her unstable muscles would carry her. He grabbed her fist out of the air, still glowering, and caught her other wrist a moment later. His knee shot up, driving into her middle, then again, and again. Niara heard herself cry out with each impact, concentrating more on fighting the heaving of her gut than remaining stoic.
“You know you’ll never win, what makes you do this?” His anger rippled across the air between them as she looked up, panting hard.
“You tired or something? All this stopping to talk…” She wanted to smile at him, but the pain in her middle was too intense, crippling as his every blow added into the damage form previous days. She managed a grit-tooth snarl. Still holding her arms, he bashed his forehead against hers in a sudden motion. Her arms dropped limp to her sides as he released them, grabbing her head in both hands and repeating the action with enough force to send her crumpling to the ground like a rag-doll. His boot ploughed into her a moment later, rolling her over, then rose and fell, stomping repeatedly against her futile attempts to protect herself with her arms. Retching, she tasted bile, but forced herself to swallow, blinking back tears. She writhed, trying to escape the pain, even after the booting had stopped, until he grabbed her by the shoulders, dragging her up in front of him. It was hard to keep her eyes focussed on him, and she could feel a strand of saliva trailing from one corner of her mouth as she shuddered, fighting back a groan.

Instead she made a fist, punching at his chest. He didn’t flinch as she struck him, first with one fist, then the other, just watched as she attacked him vainly with blows too weak to cause any damage. After a moment he threw her back, to crash against the small pile of boxes in the cell. She turned to them, trying to support her weight and hold herself up, but he was behind her a moment later, pressing against her. His feet were on her insteps, his mouth close by her ear. She could feel his hard length pressed against her rear, rough pubic hair brushing against her exposed skin. One arm wrapped around her shoulders, pressing against her neck as his other pulled her hands together, crushing them down against he wood. His breathing was heavy and thick as he gloated.

“You’re useless, Little Whore, can’t even hurt me when I let you, can you? You’re only good for fucking, and you aren’t even very good for that at the moment.” He held her tighter for a moment, a tensing of his muscles that hurt everywhere he touched her. “That isn’t going to stop me though. Show me your eyes, Little Whore.” The arm at her neck shifted to grope at her face, twisting her head around. She lashed out, biting down on the fingers she could reach and he cursed, tearing his hand away. Both his hands gripper her head, twisting it to the right until she felt the joints crack.
“You fucking bitch, you want me to break your fucking neck right now, do you?” He twisted further and she could feel the skin and tendons straining painfully. “Well!? Do you!?” His eyes were blazing.
“No, please…” she managed to gasp and he grunted, thrusting her head away until her face struck the wall. He pushed forward further, leaning on her and holding her there, bend awkwardly over the boxes, forehead pressing against the stone. Gasping, she moved her hands pressing one to the wall and another against the boxes, just to take the weight off her head. She could feel a trickle of blood welling to escape her nose. His hands grabbed at her rear now, separating her buttocks and allowing his hard member to press in between.
“Don’t you…” she hissed through her teeth.
“Don’t what, Little Whore?” I’ll do whatever I damn well please. I own your body now, or did you forget?” Her response was cut off in an agonised shriek as he proved his claim a moment later, driving into her resistant passage with brute force. It tore at her painfully, burning and stabbing in a continual pulse of torment as he violated her rear. Her scream lingered, renewed between breaths as his vigorous thrusts forced the air from her lungs. His breath was hot and rhythmic in her ear.

Tortured tars marred her face as she balled her hands into fists to stop from clawing at the wood and stone around her. His strokes grew faster, harder; she was sure she could feel herself bleeding from where his shaft rammed at her. She cried and shouted until her throat was hoarse again, but he continued, gasping and grunting now as he slammed into her, hands gripping fiercely at her buttocks as he held them wide still. Her mind felt like it was shutting down, unable to deal with the ceaseless burning pain, light, when would it end? One of his hands darted up suddenly, grabbing her head and forcing it to the side against the stone. She found herself looking into his eyes, alight above a vicious, sneering grin. Moments later, she felt him tense, thrusting harder than ever against her as he growled a moan through grit teeth. His eyes never wavered though, staring, gloating, into hers as she felt him finish deep inside her.

It was another few seconds before his face disappeared and she felt him pull away from her. She didn’t move at first, shaking as his seed began to mix with the blood from her torn and abused behind. The pain hadn’t diminished, and she continued to moan and cry, though her throat was raw, unable to vent the pain any other way. It burned and stung as she trembled where she stood, tears flowing and convulsing as thick sobs and gasps punctuated her cries. Soon she collapsed, sinking to her knees against the crates, still moaning at the pain that wouldn’t fade. She tried to wipe her eyes and caught sight of her hands. There was blood there too, from tiny lines of sickle cuts across her palms, left by her own finger nails.

He grabbed her by one arm, pulling her part way to her feet and dragging her towards the exit from the cell. She knew what was coming next, and she fought with all she had left.
“No! No more, please, don’t! Leave me alone!!” Her voice sounded cracked and horrible, and tore at her throat as she tried to beg. Cameron looked down at her as he pulled her relentlessly towards the open centre of the camp.
“Hmph. I’ll break you yet, Little Whore, you’ll see.” He slung her down on the ground and planted one foot in the small of her back as she tried to push herself up.
“Gather ‘round, boys!” she heard him calling, “I want every one of you here, front and centre. There’s plenty of tail to go around tonight, so I expect all of you to have go, and I’ll have no complaints from any mummies boys who say they don’t take arse. You do tonight. Your boss is ordering you all to have some fun, so I’d best not see any slackers. Now get to it!” He stood back, watching as the more eager men laid hands on her. Niara struggled at first, begging and pleading through agonised tears, but it quickly became clear as the violations continued that, if nothing else, none of them cared to heed her more than they feared Cameron.

Her voice gave out completely before long, though the pain of the endless abuse began to dull eventually. She found herself staring blankly wherever her eyes fell by the end, unable to fight or resist as each took their turn, one by one. In her mind, she knew it had likely happened before, but she hadn’t been conscious the first time. They were all monsters, every one of them. She would kill them all, somehow.

They left her where she lay once it was all over, twitching and gasping for breath, her hind quarters covered in their vile filth. It was a while before she recovered enough to look up. Cameron was there, watching her, sitting on a fallen column. He leaned towards her, tilting his head to the side.
“Well, Little Whore? Still feel like you’re going to win some day? Like you’re anything at all other than my plaything now, huh?” Her body still twitched as dry sobs shook her, but through it she managed to bare her teeth at him, and spit. He shrugged. “Suites me. Maybe you’ll freeze.” He stood, moving closer to her, and she felt him bind first her wrists, then her ankles, but nothing more. She watched him walk away, unconcerned.

As the night progressed, she recovered enough to shuffle into the cover of the fallen pillar nearby, and managed a few hours of fitful, restless sleep. She woke in the small hours of the morning, before it was fully light, to a hand on her shoulder. Thorns was carrying a wash cloth and a small bucket of water in her other hand. She spoke in a whisper as she dampened the cloth.
“Don’t panic, girl, it’s just me. We need to get you cleaned up properly if you don’t want to get sick.” She began to wipe thoroughly at Niara’s rear and between her legs. “I know it’d be undignified and rude under normal circumstances, but you’ve been through far worse already.” She paused as she worked. “Injury aside, your cycle… you’ve been bleeding something fierce, girl… normally this heavy for you?” When Niara shook her head, trying to sit up Thorns bit her lip, though she pressed a hand to her shoulder again, keeping her still.

“Hrmm… I hope that brute hasn’t damaged you permanently, but then, you aren’t exactly going to get the chance to have kids ever anyhow, poor girl.” When she was done she helped Niara sit up and began to feed her some of the bread and cheese she’d set down on the stone before. “I wanted to have a family once, you know, before they captured me. Still do, I suppose, but… well, it ain’t possible any more, even if I could escape this life.” She shook her head, sighing. “No, outlaw is all I am now, all I’ll ever be. Just Thorns, naught to my name but what ain’t mine, and no family save the brutes that watch my back. You’ll accept it too, someday, girl. You’ll have to.” Niara only shook her head again.
“I never will.” Her throat hurt, even to whisper. “I’m going to kill him, and I’m going to walk out of here once I have.” Thorns looked at her, a quiet sadness behind her eyes.
“I once felt the same.” She stood, picking up the bucked and cloth again, then left quietly.

The camp roused quickly as the sky lightened and the sun rose. Everyone seemed to have work to do, or things to prepare, and she was largely ignored in the bustle. They were divided roughly into two teams, and reviewed maps frequently as they readied themselves. Soon she was dragged, still bound, back to her cell and locked in, and she heard them departing soon after. Two of them were left behind, playing cards, the ones called Edge and Wilder, guessing by their voices.

The day passed in silence and Niara managed to sleep, though her dreams were far from pleasant. The two bands returned by evening and she was given a portion of the same rough bead and salty meat. Once again, she tried to fight when Cameron came for her, and suffered a beating as harsh as the last for her efforts. When he had his way with her, abusing her behind as before, she consoled herself through the tears and shouting with the briefest moment of hesitation he suffered, seemingly put off by the blood marking her thighs again.

Though he dragged her out to the others afterwards, no-one else seemed interested that evening, and to her surprise, he didn’t press them, seeming almost tired himself. For four more days it went on, with the band rising early and splitting into two or three groups, only to return after nightfall. Her nightly ‘fights’ with Cameron continued, new bruises forming over the top of older ones as he worked her over. On the third night, when they had lost both Weasel and Conor, Cameron ordered her rape at the hands of the whole band again, seething with anger the whole evening, but while she still begged, screamed and cried for them to stop, she found that her rear was growing gradually accustomed to their abuses, or at least, numb to it, to a certain extent. Her bleeding continued, far heavier than normal, and worrisome and uncomfortable as it was, she was sure it kept many of them at bay in the evenings. It had abated by the fourth night and, as she tried to sleep, bound to a tree at the edge of the central camp, she wondered if they would finally leave her backside alone.

Niara awoke with the rest of the camp on the fifth morning, cold, stiff and ravenously hungry. A glance down at her crotch showed that the bleeding had finally stopped, at least for the most part. It would begin all over again, then, she was sure; snatched moments of sleep, waking only to more abuse and violation, with more of them coming after her again, at all hours. She ate the bread and dried fruit she was given quickly. No. It had to end, she had to get out, this time or never.

When the band left this time it was all nine of them together, leaving only one behind to watch her. Her mind worked through the early hours of the morning, and she hesitated for over an hour longer, forcing herself to accept her own plan. It was almost noon before she decided she was ready. Still bound hand and foot, she made her way to the bars of her cell and pulled herself upright.
“Are you there?” She called out, listening as the sound of quiet footsteps drew close. The man who came into view was only slightly taller than her, with short black hair that lay down neatly on his head, as though it wished to be longer. Hazel brown eyes looked at her.
“I’m here. What is it?” His voice was soft and quiet. Niara swallowed.
“They call you Whispers, don’t they?” He nodded with a small smile.
“It’s because I never raise my voice, or get angry. Not something you expect in a thief and a murderer, really.”
“Well, Whispers, I’ve got a proposition for you,” He raised one hand to cut her off.
“Much as I disagree with your situation, nothing you can say will make me let you out of that cell. I can’t do that. He looked genuinely apologetic and Niara nodded her head.
“I know, I know, not worth your life or mine. I’m… I’m not asking you to let me go, I know you won’t do that, just, hear me out, ok?”
“I’ll listen.”
“Thankyou. I’m horribly cramped, tied up like this, and I need to wash, and stretch. What I’m asking is this: bring me some wash water, and untie my binds. Keep the cage locked the whole time, if you must, I don’t care any more; I just want to stretch and clean up.” He seemed like he was about to speak, so she pressed on. “I know even that’s a big risk for you to take, so, here’s what I’m proposing, ok? I’ve watched you, at times. You’ve never come to me, except when Cameron has expected everyone to, and even then, you hang back. I’m guessing, you don’t really want to rape me like that?”
“I don’t care for it, no. What is your offer?” He was watching her with his head to one side slightly, measuring. She was sure he knew where she was leading, but she couldn’t guess his answer until she asked.
“In return for the chance to stretch and wash up, I’m willing to… that is, I’ll lie with you, willingly. I’ll be a proper lover and everything. I’d even do my best to enjoy it, and help you to as well, whatever you needed, or wanted. Lock the door behind you, keep it locked the whole time, I don’t care. What do you say?” She watched pleading, as whispers seemed to think.
“And what of your courses?”
“Finished, I just didn’t want to let on right away, you know?” He nodded.
“Your offer is more appealing than you know, though such would still feel like bribery. Answer me this, then: I would have brought you what you ask for, even without your offer. Knowing that, would you still offer it, knowing as well that, if you should refuse now, I will still bring you what you ask, even so? It may not make up for what I have been made to do already, but I can promise you that much at least.” His voice remained quiet and calm, tinged slightly with sorrow. Niara swallowed again, and nodded.
“Yes, if you would promise that, then yes, I’ll offer myself anyway.” After a moment he smiled.
“Then I accept. I’ll get you some water, and a cloth.” He disappeared and Niara breathed deeply, thinking about what she was about to do. When he returned, he held a bucket of fresh water, with a long cloth draped over the handle. He set it down and reached through the bars a short way.

“I’ll undo your bindings now; when I have, please stand at the back of the cell.” She did so, rubbing her wrists as he unlocked the door and placed the bucket inside, refastening the chain again once he had. “I’ll leave you to wash now.” He was gone a moment later and Niara stretched out. She slipped off her top, then reached behind her back to undo the bindings at her chest, unwrapping them carefully. Setting the bandages aside she pulled off her boots, and her tastelessly modified leggings, then began to look herself over properly. Much of her body was still horribly bruised; her midriff in particular was a mass of painful, dark blemishes. Most movements caused them to hurt and she had already begun to grow used to it. She could still see the fading marks of abuse about her breasts, but days under wrap had given them, at least, a good chance to heal. Washing thoroughly, she stopped to inspect her groin with care as she cleaned. As much as her behind was damaged and sore, the time left alone had done its job on the tender skin. While it wasn’t completely healed everywhere, a carefully exploring finger revealed no trace of real soreness, or abrasion. When she was done, she stood, closing her eyes as she tried to get her body properly warmed up for the first time in what felt like years. A few minutes later she passed the damp washcloth over her body again and stood with her back to the bars.
“Whispers?” She called, “Could you bring me a dry cloth please?” When he arrived at the bars, she glanced over her shoulder, finding his eyes. “Dry me off?” He smiled, unlocking the gate and stepping inside. Once the chain was secure again, he pushed the key into one boot and approached her with the fresh cloth.

His touch was gentle, but thorough, starting at the back of her neck and sliding over her shoulders. She felt her outward breath turn into a small sigh, humming softly as he dried her arms one by one. Behind her, he whispered softly in her ear.
“You are very beautiful, it upsets me that you’ve been hurt so, and marked like this. I’m trying to be careful of your bruises, but tell me if I press too hard anywhere.” One hand continued to softly stroke her dried skin as the other, with the cloth, moved to work down her back. She sighed again.
“That’s good, you’re being very gentle.” She gasped slightly, though, drawing a breath as the cloth reached around to her breasts. “Ahh…” It was a soft, breathy exclamation. “Careful… they’re still tender.” The hand continued, brushing feather-light against the skin and she felt his lips move again.
“Perhaps I might kiss the hurt better, if I am very gentle?” She turned around slowly in the circle of his arms, raising her hands above her head.
“Hmmm… you might indeed.” His hands paused at her waist as he bent his head to kiss first at one nipple, then the other. She smiled, closing her eyes as he looked up at her, and let him continue to kiss and suckle softly at her, moaning quietly as she breathed out. After a moment, he continued, sinking to his knees as he delicately dried her middle and rear, before moving on to the tops of her thighs and the thin patch of fuzz at her groin. She let her voice slip into her next breath as he worked.

“Hahh… So thorough and attentive... Mhmmm, keep going…” She moved her legs apart invitingly for him to attend her inner thighs, knowing that it was not water dampening them. The cloth was gone, replaced only by delicate fingers brushing across her heat. He looked up at her, planting a kiss on the top of each thigh and one more just above the line of hair.
“Would you care to lie down?” She stroked one hand through his hair, smiling softly, then crouched enough to brush fingers against his cheek.
“Only if you’ll lie down with me.” She didn’t wait however, easing herself down gingerly and lying back on the stone. She kept her knees up and together, watching him over their tops and put three fingers in her mouth. When he was finished unfastening his pants, she parted her legs to look at him properly and put the fingers down between her legs, moistening her entrance further and pulling the folds apart.
“I’m yours now, and I’m ready, Whispers.” She held his eyes as he leaned over her, one hand above her shoulder, the other closer to her waist. As she felt his length slide into her, her eyes closed and she drew a long breath, letting it out with a heavy sigh. “That’s…” She let herself pause. “Hahh… That’s good.” She looked up at him again, lifting her other hand to wrap around his back. He leaned down to brush his cheek softly against hers.
“Would you tell me your name?” The voice in her ear was warm, but Niara bit her lip, turning her head away from him.
“No. I won’t do that.” She looked back to his eyes, lifting her other arm to embrace him. “But you are the only one to have even asked, so thankyou, and I’m sorry.” She craned her neck up to press her lips to his, whisper soft at first, but with growing fervour. When they broke, he began to murmur his understanding, but she cut him off short with one finger to his lips. “Please… Make love to me.”

It was a very long way form unpleasant, she admitted to herself as her breath sighed between her lips, making small, barely audible sounds in time with his motions. The kissed again and she began stroking her hands along his back and in his hair as he moved against her, gradually building a firmer rhythm. She could feel her heart quicken as she let his thrusts drive her breathing, quiet sighs becoming louder moans and gasps. He was moaning with her, his breathing hard as she raised her legs, wrapping them tight around his middle.
“Hahh… ’s good… ughh… mmhh… Like that, keep going… Ahh,” She could feel bruises complaining as their tempo peaked and his motions shifted her whole body, but it didn’t matter. He was drawing close to his limit and she brought her arms in to caress his face with both hands, watching his eyes.

His body went tense, then stiff as Iron as his climax came upon him. In that moment, Niara twisted her hands sharply with every ounce of strength she had, hearing his neck snap even as she felt the bone and cartilage grind and tear sickeningly. She ground her teeth, tears in her eyes even as she pulled his ear close to her lips while his body jerked and twitched in her embrace.
“I’m sorry, whispers, I am. But I’m not going to die here and willing or not, you raped me too, just like the rest of them.” She held him there for a few more seconds as he died, then unhooked her legs and thrust the body away from her. At first she didn’t want to see the surprised, betrayed expression fixed into his eyes, but as she stood, face set, teeth clenched and tears on her cheeks, she made herself look. A wrong choice in life, leading to becoming an unwilling outlaw, and death at the hands of one who might have been a friend, or lover: that was all it took; the line was so very thin.

Scuffing at her eyes, Niara took a moment to wash her crotch once more, then dug the key out of his boot and let herself out. She took her own boots with her, but left the rest or the other destroyed garments, crossing the camp naked as she searched for Thorns’ bundle. The woman was about her size, so there was bound to be something suitable. Sure enough, she soon found clothing and underthings enough to dress herself decently for the first time since arriving in the ruins. After that, she raided their food supply briefly, then began to search their makeshift armoury, in one corner of the area. She found her own sword, tossed carelessly into an old brazier stand, along with an assortment of other hand weapons, and picked out a strong-looking dagger to strap to her other hip.

To the side, stacked more neatly, were a line of bows, some of which she’d seen Hawk or whispers wearing at times. At the end, her own bow had been placed alongside them, and she noticed that it really was a rather simply fashioned weapon by comparison. Finding her quiver amongst a few others, she picked up one of the better bows, but hesitated. Better quality or not, it just felt wrong. She dropped it, reclaiming her own bow instead, and fitted an arrow to a fresh string.
“Fly for me…” she whispered to is as she loosed, aiming in a high arc that crossed the length of the ruins to dig neatly into the top of one of the wooden posts that shored up the crumbling wall. She smiled to herself, closing her eyes as she stroked the arch of the bow, then unstrung it and slipped it over her shoulder. Free, at last, perhaps. Her eyes narrowed as she looked toward the northern gate. Only, she wasn’t. Not yet. The gate was there, but she couldn’t just walk away. Debts needed to be paid. She looked about the camp, tyring to plan; it was still many hours before they would be getting back, and she meant to be ready.

It was past dark before Niara picked out the shapes of people approaching from the south. Concealed to the road, she watched them approach from where she crouched above the south gate. There were only six of them, from what she could tell. Led by Cameron and Thorns, the other lagged a short way behind, one limping slightly, another leaning on the shoulder of a third for support. Perhaps the outing had gone poorly. A pity. Drawing an arrow, she dipped the head into one of the barrels of pitch she’d wrestled into place above the entryway, and set it to her bow. The barrels hadn’t been hard to find, since the band kept a ready supply of the stuff for night raiding, or where fire was wanted. Getting them into place, however, had been the harder task.

She watched Cameron and Thorns pass under the arch first, the leader calling for Whispers to report. A moment later, the other four emerged and Niara shoved at the barrels with all her might. They fell forward, covering the bandits with the thick, dark substance, even as Niara set her arrowhead to the torch by her side and loosed into their midst.

The flame took at once, lighting up the black as smoke, screams and the smell of burning hair and flesh began to fill the air. Cameron and Thorns spun about at the sounds, both struck dumbfounded and disbelieving for Niara to set a fresh arrow to her bow. She heard Cameron curse loudly at her as he made a dash for the stairs that led to her position, but fast as he was, her arrow was quicker. It punched through his right knee, making him cry out as he stumbled and fell. He staggered up and kept moving until her next shot drove into his left thigh, making him fall again.

“You fucking whore!” She heard him scream. “Thorns, get that bitch, kill her!!” Niara’s bow flicked to the other woman, but she hadn’t moved. She met Niara’s eyes for a moment, then turned to look at her boss.
“I despise everything about you, Cameron, and I see no reason to help you now.” The cold hate in her voice was lost over the tormented, dying screams of her former comrades as they burned. “You deserve far worse than anything I could dream up, but I’ll settle for leaving you to her. Goodbye Cameron.” She turned her back on the whole scene, walking towards the north exit, and Cameron shouted at her as she went.
“Thorns you traitorous… ungrateful… Get back here you sl—Arghh!!” His tirade ended in another cry of pain as a third arrow pierced his other thigh.

Niara had walked to the top of the stair and began to descend towards him. Cussing and spitting, he tried to draw his swords as he staggered up again, but his legs gave out altogether as her fourth arrow drove through his other knee. The swords skittered away as he hit the ground. He was trying to draw his dagger as she reached him and, without slowing, she raised one foot to stamp down hard on his shoulder, hearing bone snap and shatter under her boot. For a moment his scream drowned out the failing death cries of the others. She raised her boot again, crushing his other shoulder just as fiercely. She could hear him blubbering and gasping as she looked down to see her face reflected in his eyes. Cold, hard and emotionless. She could feel herself boiling with a tight, vengeful fury, but no hint of it showed on her face.
“Bitch, dirty fucking bitch, I’ll kill you for this, I’ll bloody murder you!” His face was flushed and streaked with tears, his voice wracked and cracking. Niara walked around him, then dropped, planting one knee in the middle of his back. He cried out again and she grabbed his hair, pulling his head up as she drew his dagger form its sheath with her other hand. She pulled his head back further, exposing his throat and found herself looking into his eyes again. There was panic there now.

“Please, show some mercy! I’ll never walk well again, or hold a sword now!” His voice was different too, layered with desperation and pleading. “I’ll never be able to hurt anyone again, you’ve seen to it. Please, leave me be.” Niara contemplated the blade of his knife.
“It’s a funny thing, mercy. It’s a quality we’re all supposed to have. We always feel like we’re owed it, but then, on the other side, we never feel like we ought to be giving it.” She stood, pulling him up to his knees by the hair and pressing the knife to his throat. More agonised cries as his arms hung limp from their shattered sockets.
“Beg for you life, you miserable, twisted pile of filth!” Now the rage burned through in her voice. “Beg! Give me one good reason not to slit your throat right here and now!!” She pressed harder. His body shook as he began sobbing.
“Please, I’m sorry! Please don’t kill me! I don’t want to die here, like this. I’ll do anything, please!!” It was almost pathetic. She bend down, her head close in behind his as he sobbed, overcome by fear and pain.

“I begged, Cameron. I screamed.” Her voice was cold stone again. “I cried.” She moved her lips right next to his ear. “You didn’t listen.” She waited a moment to let him grasp her words, then twisted her wrist, pulling the dagger in tight and hard, feeling it slice into skin and artery. She poured all of her strength into the cut, blood flowing down the blade and over whitened knuckles. He twitched and bubbled, then fell still, but she didn’t let up until she felt the blade grinding against bone. It was a whole minute before she managed to unclench her jaw and case aside both dagger and body in disgust. The stench of burning corpses made her ill and she made her way to the far north gate of the camp, taking a deep breath of clean air. Gradually she calmed herself, looking up the road towards Bree-town, back turned to the grizzly scene behind her. She took another deep breath and squared her shoulders.
“Behind me.” She murmured, and stepped forward.

====================