Thirty-Four - Alden

A sudden brightness hit my eyes as a burlap sack was pulled from head, allowing the salt from the built up sweat to cascade into my eyes, adding another factor of pain that could not be relieved as my wrists chaffed against the ropes that are binding my hands behind my back. I shook my head and blinked my eyes rapidly, searching for Tarka as well as our captors. As my vision became clearer I saw a thin, scaly figure standing before me, pulling off a pair of gloves. What? I thought to myself, as I then glimpsed Roman with a burlap sack in his hands, standing beside the scaly man.

"Roman?" I asked, my voice cracking with the pain of thirst. I should have had something to drink while I had the chance.

Roman avoided eye contact and staggered back through a pair of door flaps. The Viridian watched Roman leave, standing with the posture of a soldier, before he walked over to Tarka, who was lying in the far left corner. As the burlap sack was pulled from Tarka's head, Tarka's eyes widened and she seemed to recoil from the man.

"How?" She gasped.

"There are things you do not know." He said, voice firm and pointed, as a glare passed my way. Grabbing Tarka's tied up hands, he secured them to the pole that held up the stretched out hide of the tent. Tarka said nothing, but stared at him in an enraged disbelief. 

Roman called from somewhere else within the tent. "Hurry up, Damian. He'll be here soon."

Now I looked at the man in disbelief. Damian walked to me so he could secure my hands to the far right pole. As he did I looked into his eyes, but saw nothing in them. It was as if they were a blown out candle. "I thought you were dead." I said, not really suppressing my disappointment.

Once my hands were tied, he looked to me. "How disappointing it must be for you." He sighed, leaving me and Tarka alone on the sandy floor. 

"How is this possible?" I asked Tarka, but she gave no response. My stomach seemed to sink. Tarka's has always loved Damian, and I knew that. Perhaps this is how I go out, losing Tarka to them, and being tied up like a farm mammal. Even my brother's best friend had shown no mercy, but betrayed me and led me to believe I was safe when I was not. 

I sat still for a long time, feeling nothing but emptiness, when the voice of Lesion filled the tent. An anger began to rise within me, and I tried to stand. I refused to look weak in front of the man who cannot even fight his own wars. As I was part way up, my back fell against the pole and a clanging sound, followed by a soft thud, was heard. Looking over my shoulder I saw a small glimmer of light. I squatted back down, and searching with my hands until I found the point of a knife. Pausing for a second, I made sure Lesion was still busy talking. Then I quickly took up the knife and began sawing away at the ropes. I worked as fast as I could, not even questioning where the knife had come from, and jumped up to make my escape.

But then I thought of Tarka, and looked at her sitting sullenly in the corner. Did she even want me to save her?