Stitches

The night air was chilly, as most autumn nights were currently. The upside to such weather was the bright and numerous stars, leaning down so close as if to whisper to Dru's ear. What it was saying to her, she could rarely tell.
But this time it was all too clear.

"You fail. Again. You fail."

The voices were audible as she walked along, shaking her head and covering her ears. Dav didn't seem to hear them, but she did even through her hands.

Stitches. He was back in Bree-land, while Dru was on her way to Gondor. It was as if fate was ever telling them to stay apart. As if some force continued to separate them from each other. She had given her word, and even his return could not bring her to break it.

Dim light. Voices. Flame crackling. Heat on her face. Odd echo in whatever room she was in. Dru’s eyes were not yet open, but she could feel herself in some sort of chair. She opened her eyes, lifting her head. Three men. Why did two of them seem somewhat familiar? Where was she? Her head ached. Her side throbbed. She barely made out what they said…but the one she did not recognize was kneeling before her chair. Why was he messing with her wrists? Chains.

The cold air slammed through her lungs as she ran, and her blood seeped through her fingers as they clamped over the nasty-looking slash on her side…but she hardly noticed this. She had escaped! It was a miracle, and she truly did not recall how she managed such a feat. Nor did she care. She was running through the fields of Bree-land. Running a free woman.