The soldiers stalked her closer, so she could feel the wind from their whips ruffle her hair down to the tiniest ones at the back of her neck, on her arms and at her pubis. A few strikes glanced off her body. A few felt like the sting of a bee. Another few made her jump. And now and again, one bit like fire.
She jerked, wiggled, and as predicted turned away from the cuts that truly stung, only to find another whip there to abuse that same wounded spot. From six directions the whips prevailed, keeping her in one spot. It did no good to move. Let them take their aim. She wouldn’t alter their path trying to avoid the hit. The stage had not been set for a battle she could win, but fixed so that she would handily lose.
Her only recourse was to fall away, let her endorphins fight for her, fi
