"That's it, little fox, keep going!" Methuseld figured the magical creature would have a difficult time, what with those long canines, but serendipitously she started to feel the bindings get looser and looser. Soon she could feel the ropes slide on her wrists - it wasn't much, but it meant there was slack. "Go on, we've almost got it!" Head turned back to look at the fox's determined little tugging muzzle, the general whispered more words of encouragement until there was enough slack that, with just a bit of effort, she could slide one hand out of the loop. Quickly sliding the other out, she took but a breif moment to stretch with a relieved sigh before twisting onto her back again, arms in their appropriate and extremely uncomfortable positions and hands slipped back into the slightly loosened rope bindings once more. There would be time to be comfortable when she'd completed the mission. Right now, the longer they went without checking her bindings, the better the chance she had of catching them off-guard. She had to know where they were to do that, and right now all she knew was that they weren't in the room. "Hurry back to your corner before they return," the general whispered with a smile that teetered on the edge of friendly and mischievous.<br/><br/>The hammock swayed slightly from all the movement, but now its motions began to dissipate. All Methuseld could do was wait for the armored man or perhaps his fiendish accomplice to return, hoping all the while that the latter was not as much a raper as she'd been led to believe. She strained her ears to hear something, anything, outside the sleeping quarters, but the groaning of old wooden ship and the creaking of hammock ropes straining to bear a fully-armored warrior dominated any sounds that could have wound their way down to the two captured females.