She let out yet more sounds, some appeared as if they were close to barks other more similar to words, the pict seemed to be growing far too warm, her body was beginning to be covered in a glistening layer of perspiration as she fought to be free both in her hallucinations and in the world that was about her physical body. The land or rather the sand and dirt mingled with the heat. There was a different kind of warmth elsewhere parts of her lean and somehow exotic body were now beginning to respond yet further to certain parts of his concoction, opening up as so many did not.<br/><br/>Her dark eyes flickered a little as if she was waking but that was it seemed part of the dream as the darkness rolled back, more sounds fall into the room. Sorcha writhed again against her bonds, for just a short time she was yet more exposed. Even her tattoos and scars seemed to dance as she moved. Unfortunately the bruising on her body from the beating not long before was rather spoiling the most interesting pattern.<br/><br/>Elsewhere Sorcha’s mind ran towards the howling, to the songs of her home, the beating of the drum… yet here the sand was dry and painful upon her feet, the land was barren as the women were. For was the Hydra of many jewelled eyes was cursing all that it touched. The wolves were still so distant, as if they called her yet there was an endless road to find them, the pict knew she must be tireless. She needed a sign of escape and through the muffled howls, yet the further she ran Sorcha realised she was running on all fours. Yes the woman knew she had to warn her people of the seven headed beast that would be their end...<br/>