Though one of the younger women that sheltered within the citadel, protected by the most faithful of the town’s warriors, Shaelee was considered one of the most valuable because of her rare knowledge of herbs and healing passed to her from her mother’s sister.  As such she was kept far back, huddled with the elder priestesses and magi.  It made no difference save that she was one of those lined up, surrounded by the towering monsters rather than one of those that screamed in pain as they were violated.<br/><br/>The first of the orc’s victims were not the only elven women that screamed and cried.  Huge, rough hands grabbed at them, pulling cowls back to expose their faces and tearing at robes, uncaring when they caught hair or bruised tender flesh…  No, that was not true.  They cared.  They enjoyed the screeches of pain and looks of fear they elicited; a realization that made Shaelee all the more determined to deny them both.  Instead she glared her hatred at them, gritting her teeth rather than crying out when one grabbed the shoulder of the concealing cloak she wore, pulling her forward into the hard wall of his body as he ripped it from her.<br/><br/>She pushed away from him immediately, twisting her body to avoid his grasp.  It gained her little, a few more seconds of freedom and a growl of anger.  Fortunately, it was enough.  Before he could lunge at her a commotion along the line stopped him, one orc pushed aside jostling the next one and the next, until her tormentor turned away with a snarl… only to be brought up short as he took in the one that all gave way for.<br/><br/>Defiant expression fading slightly as fear showed in the vibrant blue eyes for the first time, Shaelee trembled as eyes the color of fresh blood passed over her.  Where she had glared at others, her eyes fell from his to stare at the floor, letting her long, golden hair swing forward to hide her.  She could feel her those close to her cringe and tried hard to resist doing the same.  If she just didn’t look at him…  She couldn’t help it, she’d always been told she was too curious for her own good.  She looked up again.. and saw the last thing she expect.<br/><br/>“Makretia?”  She stared at the elven woman that sat near the orc’s feet, her mouth gaping open in incredulity.  Surely, it could not be!  Her cousin’s bride was a bold and daring scout, a warrior of some renown among the elves.  Shaelee had only met her once, having accompanied her aunt and mother to the wedding of their brother’s son.  That had been years before.  She had to be mistaken.  Even so, she looked enough like the beautiful Makretia that Shaelee was moved to pity rather than disgust by the way she reached out, touching the orc’s leg affectionately as if seeking comfort.