Sorcha curled her lip at the man with strange eyes like the grass under the snow, though since her capture she had noticed many colours, not dark, perhaps only those that tread softly were allowed eyes of the true earth. She snarled at him especially after the beating she had received from the large and rather foolish man that should know better. Next time she would be ready for him and the filthy and dirty metal man would suffer, however tall he was, as it was the man spoke gibberish and was too loud and would likely die soon on the land or too the land for she was a vengeful mother.<br/><br/>The pict watched the Greek carefully, she was cautious, as yet he had only seemed to care perhaps he could be trusted to offer a drink. Something about him reminded of the elder woman that understood much of the land and help birth children, not only her but the man that walked many miles, the one that knew the tribes and must not be hurt.  After some consideration she grasped the drink, after all as he understood she was thirsty, very thirsty indeed, the blood of the metal guard had not sated her at all. Thus this young pict took the cup or rather snatched it. Sorcha sniffed at it, and frowned she did not recognise the smell in there; the aroma was not one that she knew. Though considered intelligent in her tribe…the survival instinct of thirst took over and finally the pict swallowed the strange tasting liquid.<br/><br/>Things stared to become strange, and Sorcha’s legs became weak, or not weak rather as if they were not there in this vile unnatural place. Her body followed suit as she fell to the base of the cage in a stupor it was only then that her mind and spirit was released… The pict’s body twitched a little but for the most was still. She certainly even if bloody looked very different when she was prone and asleep. Perhaps this was why the Dominus had picked this feral animal.<br/>