She stared at her hands, they were covered in her mother’s blood. Gilraen turned away, vomiting what little had not been digested through the night. A bellowing soulful cry reached into her chest and she turned to face Dmitri. He held her mother in his arms. Her face buried into his chest. He shook violently and tears fell fast down his cheeks. The merchant stood still, his fingers fretting and his step uneasy. Gilraen looked at him, he stared back at her. She rose up, and moved closer. The old elf stepped back. The Princess curled her lips, and advanced. Again he retreated, Dmitri made no move to stop her as she willed her steps toward the door. The merchant seemed than to realize he was about to lose his prize. He moved to grab her, only to be stopped by Dmitri. Gilraen felt her pulse quicken. Would her mother’s lover take revenge on her? ‘Run Princess – as fast as you can – as far as you can.’ Gilraen did not need a second invitation. She opened the door and rushed out. The winter. Of-course there was also the looks he had stolen as a youth, ever trying to glimpse her body at every opportunity, while changing on the beach to swim, or at the various campsites each year on the family holidays when privacy was hard to maintain. She was a little flattered, that he wanted her, but, well, she had wondered realistically in her heart if it was her he wanted or may it have been just, anyone female, just to learn on so to speak, after all he had spied on her sister, his aunt too. She reasoned that perhaps he wanted someone, anyone, as long as she was female and she had shelved the whole idea, after all she had her husband Sam, and he should have been enough, shouldn’t he? She had on occasions been really randy and had nearly crumbled but luckily the lad joined up before her resolve was really tested. But since then she had had the odd day-dream about him, especially since her Sam had slowed down this last year, probably feeling his age! Since joining up the boy.
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