Naked, bound, pinned, and helpless. If Bishop were to see this, he'd say it was my honour to help our saviour to get off. Not in these words, but I didn't know how to speak as wordy as he did. Totally not now, when my blood was boiling and something hard was poking in my butt.
"Get off me!" I growled, trying to free my hands again. Voren's webs, smooth and sticky, held them with a steel grip, and I knew my efforts would be fruitless no matter how hard I tried. All these days of exploring the wilderness with him, and I never even dreamed to once be the one caught in them, instead of the critters who tried to get to our camp at nights.
I tried anyway. My body wouldn't stay still, no matter what I knew, thought, or wanted. It threw the words out of my tongue, but they weren't my words. They were my mother's.
