The night was cloaked in a shroud of eerie silence, broken only by the distant hoots of owls and the rustle of leaves in the wind. Akita, with every ounce of her remaining strength, had managed to slip past the guards and make her way to a nearby village. Her heart pounded with a mix of hope and desperation as she stumbled upon a small hut at the edge of the settlement.
For the first time in months maybe even years, Akita allowed herself a moment of respite. she felt a flicker of hope as if nothing could hurt her at all. Maybe, just maybe, she had found an ally in this harsh world.
The windows were dark, and the roof sagged in places, but it offered shelter. Akita approached cautiously, her eyes darting around the clearing. She knocked on the door, her knuckles rapping softly against the weathered wood.
The door creaked open, revealing a woman in her late thirties with kind eyes and a warm smile. Her hair was pulled back in a loose bun, and she wore a simple dress, her hands covered in flour. Akita felt a wave of relief wash over her at the sight of the woman's friendly demeanor. There, a kind woman took pity on her. The woman seemed middle age but she seemed kind Akita felt that there was something wrong. She couldn't put her finger on it.
"Hello there," the woman greeted, her voice soft and inviting. "What brings you here at this hour?"
Akita hesitated, her eyes darting to the side. She couldn't tell this woman the full truth, not yet. "I... I'm lost," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. "I was hoping I could rest here for a while."
The woman studied her for a moment, her expression thoughtful. Then, she nodded and stepped aside. "Of course, come in. You look like you could use a warm meal and a place to rest."
Akita stepped inside, the warmth of the cottage enveloping her. The woman led her to a small kitchen, where a pot of stew simmered on the stove. The aroma filled the air, making Akita's stomach growl with hunger. She hadn't eaten a proper meal in days, and the sight of the food made her mouth water.
The woman ladled a generous portion of stew into a bowl and handed it to Akita, along with a piece of bread. "My name is Elara," she said, her voice gentle. "You're welcome to stay here as long as you need."
Akita took the bowl, her hands trembling. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice choked with emotion. She sat at the small wooden table and ate hungrily, savoring the rich, hearty flavors of the stew.
For the next two days, life seemed to take on a semblance of normalcy. Elara was kind and attentive, offering Akita clean clothes and a place to sleep. They spent their days talking and working around the cottage, and for the first time in a long while, Akita felt a glimmer of hope. She began to trust Elara, grateful for the woman's kindness and hospitality.
But the illusion of safety was shattered on the third day. It happened in the early morning, just as the sun was beginning to rise. Akita was helping Elara tend to the garden when she heard the sound of approaching footsteps. Her heart sank, and she looked up to see a group of guards emerging from the trees, their faces grim and determined.
Akita's blood ran cold as she recognized the uniforms. These were Virgil's guards, sent to capture her and bring her back. Panic surged through her, and she turned to Elara, her eyes wide with fear. But Elara's expression was strangely calm, almost resigned. There was a glint of something cold and calculating in her eyes that Akita hadn't noticed before.
The leader of the guards stepped forward, his gaze hard and unyielding. "Akita," he said, his voice like ice. "You're coming with us."
Akita shook her head, her heart pounding in her chest. "No," she whispered, taking a step back. "I won't go back."
The guards advanced, and Akita knew she had no choice. She lunged towards them, her movements wild and desperate. She fought with all her strength, her fists flying, her nails clawing. But it was no use. The guards were stronger, their training and numbers overwhelming. But she was outnumbered and outmatched. They subdued her quickly, pinning her to the ground.
As they bound her wrists with rough rope, Akita looked up to see Elara standing a few feet away, her arms crossed over her chest. The woman's expression was cold and distant, her eyes devoid of the kindness they had held before. Akita felt a surge of betrayal and anger, her mind racing with confusion.
"Why?" she demanded, her voice cracking. "Why did you do this?"
Elara shrugged, her expression indifferent. "It was only a matter of time before they found you," she said, her voice flat. "I figured I might as well profit from it."
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small pouch, tossing it to the guard leader. The pouch made a soft clinking sound as it landed in his hand, the unmistakable sound of coins. Akita's heart sank as she realized the truth. Elara had betrayed her for money, sold her out like a common commodity.
The guards hauled Akita to her feet, their grip bruising. She struggled, but it was no use. They dragged her towards the trees, her mind reeling with shock and despair. She had been so close to freedom, only to be betrayed by someone she had trusted.
As they led her away, Akita glanced back at Elara one last time. The woman's expression remained cold and unfeeling, her eyes devoid of any regret. Akita felt a pang of anger and sadness, the sting of betrayal cutting deep. She had thought she had found a friend, a safe haven. But in the end, it had all been a cruel illusion. She suddenly felt a blow to the back of her head sending her spiraling into darkness.
When she awoke, the familiar, suffocating confines of her cell greeted her. A scream of rage and despair tore from her throat, echoing off the stone walls. Tears streamed down her face as she slumped to the floor, her spirit battered but not broken.
Days passed in a blur of hunger and exhaustion. They had denied her food as punishment, and her body grew weak. The master of the estate, a cruel man with a sadistic streak, came to her cell, whip in hand. The lash bit into her flesh with a vicious snap, over and over, until her vision blurred with pain. She accepted it, her hatred burning bright and unwavering.
After the master left, her cellmate, a wiry woman named Sela, watched Akita with a mix of annoyance and concern. This was the fifth time Akita had tried to escape, each attempt ending in harsher punishment.
"You're a fool," Sela muttered, her voice rough but not unkind. "But a brave one. Listen, if you ever try again, you need to be smarter. There's a way, but it takes patience. "
Akita, bruised and bleeding, turned her head to meet Sela's gaze. "Tell me," she rasped, her voice hoarse with pain and determination.
Sela leaned in, her eyes hard but filled with a flicker of reluctant respect. "We'll need to plan carefully. There's a guard, Soren, who can be bribed. But you mustn't act rashly. Strength is not enough; you need cunning. We wait for the right moment, and gather a plan if we can. And when the time comes, we strike with precision."
Akita nodded slowly, absorbing the advice. The fire in her heart burned brighter, fueled by the promise of another chance. She would endure, she would survive, and she would escape. No matter how many times it took, she would taste freedom again.