She wanted to reply. Everything was clear in her head about how this was supposed to go along. She was going to tell them to stop and put the pommel of her sheathed sword on display. They were comrades in arms after all. Her words should have carried meaning. If not, she would mention her grandfather's name and if that was not enough, she would have shown them his ancestral sword, a sacred symbol for the troops, now clutched painfully in her arms.
But her eyes remained glued on the woman's frightened expression and suddenly it was her who was being raped. Droplets of sweat formed on her forehead, and her spline leapt to her throat, making her gasp for air. Terror came crashing at the forefront of her mind, taking her words and her reason. Her half-parted mouth remained frozen as the small world inside the tent began to spin out of control around her.
