#5 (Part II)

#5 The Table (Part II)

    “Don’t run.” The voice that emerged was not normal. It was rough, raspy, and dangerous. “I’ll be in control soon. Just don’t . . . move.”
     How does one stay in place when every single nerve screams at you to flee?
     Thunder kept his face turned away from me. Perhaps this is why I did not run. After several minutes – maybe five or ten – his shoulders relaxed. “I will call Strumbeck.” He said. Then, “Care for some breakfast?”
     “Are you offering me real food or leading me to the slaughter?” The quip came from nowhere. I froze afterwards, stunned at hearing my words. I hadn’t as much as joked since my husband’s . . .since my husband was gone.
     The words changed something in Thunder. It wasn’t just that he relaxed, but he seemed at ease, whereas before he’d been reserved. Bragging, but reserved.
     “You’re not a hunter.”

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