The Centaur’s Slave – Part 3

Thankfully the chieftain did not seem to spend his nights sleeping in the great tent, which meant that Lillian had some privacy with which to clean herself up. It also helped her sleep a little easier knowing the lecherous centaur wasn’t undressing her with his eyes from across the room. Her jaw still hurt from the punishment he’d given it.

It wasn’t clear how she was going to escape, the main entrance was guarded by spears and even if she slit the wall or managed to slip under it, she would still be running from the center of a camp which was crawling with creatures that could outrun her ten times over. What’s more those creatures would be obligated to do so, even the one who had befriended her.

But then which was worse? Being spit through the back with a spear or being spit from behind by something softer yet perhaps just as deadly? The only way she could keep herself from panicking was by promising herself that if the time came, she would make a run for it, no matter what the consequences. She didn’t make much of her odds, even if she managed to elude centaur pursuit, which she doubted, there was always the looming threat of giant wolves. Granted the wolves would probably bring her to a kinder end.

But there was nothing to be gained by staying up and worrying about it. The fact was she was exhausted, if she wanted to try and somehow escape tomorrow she would need all her strength. And so she bunched her cloak beneath her head and laid down to a fitful night of sleep. Her dreams were haunted by visions of demonic creatures chasing her, tormenting her, and ultimately taking her.

She awoke at some point after dawn. The sun had not reached its apex, at least if the light spilling in from the tent’s ceiling was any indication, so it had to be before noon. Orieus was nowhere to be seen, which was a small comfort. The sleep had done her some good, she felt as though her wits had come back to her.

Lillian paced along the nearest wall of the tent. At roughly three foot intervals pegs had been driven through to hold it to the ground. Whoever had put the structure in place had taken great care to make sure that the material was stretched taught at every point. Try as she might she could not manage to lift the material more than an inch or two above the caked dirt that made up the floor. That just meant she needed to find something sharp to cut it.

The place was mostly empty, though she saw that the chieftain had left the support structure sitting where he’d used it the night before. It now had another piece of wood dangling off of it, held by a leather strap. She dismissed it from her mind. It wasn’t going to help her cut through the rough canvas of the tent. What she needed was a knife or a dagger. Something with a keen cutting edge would do nicely.

Unfortunately the tent was scrupulously empty of such implements. After scouring the place a few times she eventually came up with a metal implement – a spare tent peg. It wasn’t much, the point was so dull she almost doubted that it could hammer through the canvas, let alone cut it, but it was all she had and having it made her feel a little bit better.

She took the peg and drove it into the ground next to the chief’s wooden structure, so she’d know where to find it. Even with the entirety of its metal length buried in the ground it’s nub of a head still stood out conspicuously. Lillian knelt over it and worked her fingers into the packed dirt, carefully shaping the soil into a covering for the peg. After that she used her boots to tamp it down so that it looked roughly even with the surrounding area. It still looked a little obvious to her that something was buried, but she hoped that it was only due to the fact that she already knew it was there.

She heard a rustle and jumped back from her buried treasure. A guard stood in the doorway, a spear at his side.

“You’re to come to the noon feast, the chief wishes you to entertain his circle of headmen,” he said.

“Headmen?” she asked.

“Don’t ask questions, just come,” the guard instructed, picking up his spear in a menacing fashion.

Lillian sighed and tied her cloak back around her shoulders before getting up and letting the guard lead the way. They walked through the encampment. Lillian still attracted a fair number of stares. Eventually the guard spoke to her.

“I will say this, creature, the headmen are the most respected members of our herd, aside from the chieftain, so you had better behave. You don’t want to upset the chief.”

“But why am I going?” Lillian asked.

“Because the chieftain wants you there,” the guard replied unhelpfully.

Eventually they came to a small area free of tents, latrines, and common centaurs. There was no natural formation or centaur-built structure that designated it a special area, it was simply the presence of the centaurs standing there and the air of importance they projected.

Lillian looked at them all as she approached. Not one of the forms standing in the circle was female. Perhaps this world was not so unlike hers after all. The faces of these ‘headmen’ were as varied as any group of men she’d come across in her world. In the center of them all was a face she’d come to dread, though. Orieus. He laughed easily and seemed very satisfied with himself. After a moment he seemed to notice her approach and directed the attention of his small audience to her.

“Behold, my newest acquisition. Marvel at this oddity, it is exquisitely strange, is it not?” He beckoned for her to come to him.