Hideaway Strath Up north’s getting cold soon

She wasn't sure what had finally possessed him to pull her from her prison, but she was grateful. It was sad how relieved she was to be on his borders, walking with him, but anything was better than spending one more night in that pit with him sitting up at the top like it was just another day of guarding the captive. 

She hadn't said a word so far, just limped along beside him while she waited to see what he was up to. She didn't trust him at all, and part of her was afraid that he was just doing this to fuck with her and soon, he was going to toss her back in the pit and make her suffer that much more—give her a taste of freedom just to rip it away. 

She was so caught up in her anxious thoughts that his voice made her jump. She swallowed and tensed, angry that he had that effect on her. Then she glared up at him. You mean the wounds you gave me? she spat at him. I'm not going anywhere. You won; you don't have to pretend to give a shit about me, she said, defeat in her voice—it was a common feeling for her now. Her gaze fell to the ground in front of her as she continued to limp at his side.