Galla opened her eyes. The harsh voice had awakened her. Brutally. Instantly. Without a chance to argue or beg. Not that she would do either. Her sleep had been despicable, it could not be considered a satisfying rest, due to the humidity, noise, cold and pain. And that was only on the outside. On the inside, Galla was overflowing with hatred, both oriented towards herself and the world around her. Self-loathing of the worst kind, the one that consumes you slowly, sorrow for friends and family lost, utter abhorrence for the traitors. The bastards. The cowards. The whores....No, Galla was better off awake than lost in her miserable nightmares.<br/><br/>She was as the others were, bound, almost nude, her chains dangling with her every movement. They felt heavy on her arms and legs, and their rust was perilously close to her already chafed skin. But Galla took the pain and the humiliation of being around other wretches. Until, suddenly, she was pulled away from them, and forced to follow four men. She did not complain, but she tensed and stood ready, expecting them to force themselves on her. For the long, excruciating trip, she had not been touched by any of the handlers. She had come close to it, but she had been rescued by fate and chance. Which she despised with all her heart. Perhaps she would have been better off dead. And yet, she was determined to fight off any attack. But no attack came. She snickered and did her best not to look at the head slaver and his very black eye. That should teach him...One day ago, he had tried to take advantage of her while she was sleeping in her cage. The cloth that covered her body was torn and thread-bare and did not do a very good job of concealing her. Therefore, as she slumped in a corner of her cage, one of her breasts had become free of its coverings and this man, who was just walking by, decided to abuse the sleeping girl. The second she felt his dirty fingers close around her full globe, she punched him, right in the eye. He had threatened her, but he had also been warned against touching her.<br/><br/>On and on they went, Galla walked at a quick pace, imposed by her handlers. She kept her head down, refusing to look up, so she did not quite take in the scenery, although her memory and imagination helped her make out a certain concealed way to what appeared to be an immense wall of rock. Up they went and the darkness was kind to her tired, bloodshot eyes, allowing her to escape some of the natural drowsiness and exhaustion. And then, they were in a pub of some sort...the light appeared unnatural, but not unpleasant and a bizarre scene unfolded. This time, she made sure her head was down, not because she considered that would be the right stance for a slave, but because she did not want to take in the drunkards and their women. She already felt disgusted, even before they started speaking. What misery, what disgusting characters!<br/><br/>The man who had just entered somehow demanded her attention. So Galla raised her blue eyes and pierced him with a glare. His smile was warm, genuine even. She would have gladly wiped it off with her sword. And since she did not have her sword, her bare hands would have to suffice. The look she gave him was feral and a scowl seemed to be tattooed on her young, beautiful face. She had completely missed the disappearing woman, not that she had any idea of her presence there. She looked at him and her breathing became heavy with anger when he referred to her as "a delivery". She narrowed her eyes and lifted her chin proudly, defiantly, while also taking in his features. He appeared to be quite wealthy, respectable and above the usual riff-raff that dwelled there. All the more deserving of a miserable death. She was left alone, still chained, still barely covered. And that's when he voiced the call, a most unusual call which left her confused, though not a drop of said confusion showed on her face.<br/><br/>She was seething by the time the strange woman entered the room. Galla directed her stare towards her and, although she had been using her self-control to keep from charging at the older man, she could not stop herself from gasping. Were those...snakes? She squinted her eyes and followed the exotic woman, whose skin was tinted and almost shiny. What are you? She thought, her mouth dropping slightly, her breaths flowing out from between full lips. Was she a goddess of some kind? No, Galla did not believe in gods. Only in warriors and their efforts. When she spoke, the girl felt even more confused. Her voice was normal, earthly, beautiful as she was beautiful, yet cold and somehow unfitting that scene. But her words harmed Galla and she returned her glare. "I...am...not...a...slave..." She whispered, panting, her body still tense, as if she were one of those unnatural snakes, preparing to strike.