Most of us long to "Be" but when the path gets too costly, or steep, we take solace in what we "Have." Remove the trappings of what we own, and then what is the sum of us?
They were the survivors, abandoned by the allies who swore to protect, in...
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The subdued mood in the camp abruptly came to a close with the entrance of Bennett, tailed by the majority of his wild men. Their stolen glinting jewelry, wild hair, leather and fur attire, making for a fearsome spectacle. Only taking moments for Carlos to register that he was the object of their nefarious interest. What now, haven't they had enough? His angry thoughts rising. At the same time internally quailing with dread despite his cool exterior. Most there already sniggering, eager for the entertainment to begin.
He sighted Raissa's quick attempted departure, deftly blocked by Sven. You cruel prick he thought. Having nowhere to go she stood glumly, even from this distance he could plainly see the tears in her soft honeyed eyes. Remorse rose in him then, a now all too familiar emotion, one he was finding he did not enjoy. With it also regret, at things that might have been in another time and place. So uncomfortable was he that he had to look elsewhere.
Bennett advanced toward his captive warily, like a man who would tame a wild stallion. His hard face impassive, impossible to read, eyes icy cold, never leaving his intended quarry. Carlos sensing the worst, tensed for the oncoming confrontation. Instinct taking over as he attempted to use the only weapon he had at his disposal, the several feet of chain swinging from his neck.
This sudden action brought a loud roar from amongst the men, now arranged about on all sides. The chain connecting with Bennett's cheek drawing blood, so swiftly did Carlos strike. The wily leader expected this however, and in the space of a heartbeat already had the chain wrapped firmly in his powerful grasp. He commenced to brutally twist its length, a practiced move he had perfected to gain his prisoner's submission.
Carlos fought wildly, achieving very little. With every turn of the chain further limiting his access to air. Persistently robbing him of fight. Finally he could do little more than sink to his knees, as he reflexively clawed at his throat. The big man towering above, gloating in a victory almost complete.
Somewhere through the mists of raw panic and strangulation Carlos found his hand reaching upward, unnoticed by his confident attacker, and in a last ditch attempt to extricate himself from his dire situation, he grabbed the bulge of Bennett's testicles and squeezed, crushing with everything he had.
Immediately Carlos was flung violently backward, Bennett's vision swimming as he strove to gain control, and get the upper hand. The slave barely aware of the frenzied warriors enthusiastic shouts, as they realized that what had at initially appeared as a one sided walkover, was yielding more surprises. Shades of their last bout paramount in all minds, especially the mind of Bennett. Who by this time was maddened with a tempestuous fury. He would not stand to be bested in full view of all again. His wounds only just healing to his satisfaction, and still inwardly smarting from their last showdown. Bennett would not play this game again.
With his anger shielding him from pain that would have brought a stop to a lesser warrior, he again advanced on the smaller man. Who despite the force Bennett had earlier applied to his throat, had recovered exceptionally swiftly. Once more he felt the bite of the metal as he dove underneath the chain's solid links, laying his shoulder open, crimson spattering the ground. So furious was Bennett, he was almost blind to its force. His only mission to subdue his smaller nemesis convincingly this time in front of his cohorts.
