Cannon

18

Straining against her bonds, she tried to make sense of what she was hearing. Soon, a picture formed, and it lifted her spirits while it also caused her to feel a pang of worry.

A fight was going on – an intense one. Bodies crashed, and furniture was being torn apart. Only one person could take on several people at once. And that was Cannon. She heard a dragon fight, she was certain. Hope and anxiety sat side by side within her as the fight continued.

Meanwhile, she worked at her bonds. She had to find him, help him if she was able.

Furiously, her fingers pulled, rubbed, and pulled again at the rough hemp. The flesh on her fingers was soon shredded and bloody, but she didn’t care. She had to free herself. The fight just beyond her cell told her nothing about who was hurt and who was dead.

With the last tug, the ropes finally gave way, and a rush of relief ran through her aching shoulders. Springing to her feet, she looked around for any sort of weapon. The cot, made of nothing more than pieces of metal, was designed to fold up, and the legs could be removed. Wrenching a leg off, she felt its satisfying heft in her palm. It was perfect.

Approaching the door with caution, Ryver noticed with a shot of alarm that the sounds of the fight had gone silent. Was Cannon still alive? Was he hurt and bleeding on the floor just down the hall?

Her hand upon the door handle, she told herself to be ready for anything – including the sight of Cannon’s dead body.

Just then, the door jerked open, and she was greeted by a bruised, bloody Cannon. Sweat glistened all over, and Ryver only barely averted her eyes in time.

“You’re okay!” he said, his voice breathless with exertion.

“I am,” she replied. What she didn’t say was the rush of relief she felt at seeing him alive again. Though her feelings were confused, not wanting to want him and there being a lot more than mere desire in her heart for him, she didn’t think she could bear the sight of seeing him seriously hurt or worse.

“Good. We have to go. Now.” His eyes traveled over her, taking in her condition. They caught on the metal bar still gripped in her hand. “Take that. We may need it.”

“Sure…uh, yeah,” she stammered.

With that, he turned, giving her another show of his gorgeous backside as he sauntered out of the cell. It was clear he didn’t feel any sort of shame or awkwardness when it came to being naked in public.

A brief smile played over Ryver’s lips as she thought to herself that if anyone had a body like that, they should have no problem flaunting it.

Her musings didn’t last long. They were still very much in danger.

The small prison was empty, apart from the broken bodies they left behind. Harsh sunlight greeted them as they pushed the heavy metal door open.

“Aren’t you going to put on clothes?” she asked.

“Don’t have any more.” He hefted his pack over his shoulder. Would she have to spend the next few days with this perfectly naked body leading her through the forest? God help her and her womanhood.

Cannon stepped outside. Peeking just over the tree line, about half a mile, Ryver spied the top of the barn where they had been discovered.

Cannon shot her a look. They didn’t need to speak. They both knew what had to happen next.

Taking off at a rapid trot, they covered the distance within a few minutes. Just before the barn and accompanying house loomed into view, they slowed to survey the driveway. It was free of vehicles save for one – a rusty truck.

It was a good sign. Still, as they skirted the edge of the driveway so they wouldn’t be spotted from the house, Cannon urged them to be careful.

Once they were at the door to the house, Cannon indicated that Ryver was to stand sentinel outside. He would go in first and check it out.

Nodding, she poised herself by the side of the door and held the metal bar in her hands, luxuriating in its weight.

Cannon silently disappeared inside. Ryver caught one glimpse of the dirty soles of his feet as he stepped carefully into the gloom within. She only hoped no harm would come to him.

A mere thirty seconds passed, which felt like an eternity to Ryver, before the farmer stormed out of the house backward. Ryver surmised he had been more than a little surprised to see his former guest reappear – completely naked – to pay his respects.

Ryver didn’t let him wonder long. Before he even knew she was there, she brought the bar down on his head with a satisfying crack. He crumpled in a heap in the dirt.

A second later, Cannon poked his head out of the door.

“Come on in. Let’s get stocked up.”

The house was indeed empty of thugs and turncoat farmers. It was also furnished and fully supplied. It irked Ryver that this farmer seemed more prosperous than his neighbors. Why did he feel the need to sell them out then?

She didn’t spend too long thinking about it. Satisfaction came in the form of filling a bag with food, warm clothes, and other essentials. He was paying them back for his shoddy treatment of them, whether he wanted to or not.

With some tearing and ripping, Cannon found clothes that managed to fit over his large frame. Finally, he came to something resembling a rest.

“Wish we could stay, but you know we can’t.” His tone was almost wistful.

“I know. At least we got a decent haul.”

He looked at her, his eyes sparkling.

“That we did. Let’s go.”

And with that, they left the home with the farmer still crumpled in the dirt. They knew the new bad guys would soon return. They had to put as much distance between them as they could.