After her first bloodcurdling scream, she had lain silent and only
trembled uncontrollably each time at it's evil, snakelike touch,
fearing that he had simply missed, and that surely the next delivery,
or the next, should not fail to find it's mark. Of a truth, she was
covered with the rain of fallen grain stems, cut by the whip as by the
sharpest scythe, and her eardrums still rang from the deafening bang of
the whip-crack so close to her head, but there was not a single scratch
on her.
As soon as Habrunt had gone, Geth himself came scurrying as quickly as
his bent frame could carry him up the opposite slope of the hill, with
a group of field hands following fearfully behind him.
The fact that Geth the Fieldmaster had not so much as looked back at
them with the usual admonishment to return to work only emboldened the
other slaves to follow all the faster on his heels, the sooner to see
to the poor girl's condition. Most whippings were conducted with
punishment in mind, something to return the violator to useful duty.
But what they had witnessed from afar was the virtual destruction of a
human being, and they expected to find almost a slaughtered corpse,
something more akin to the remains of a wild animal attack.
When they finally arrived on Geth's heels at the top of the grassy
knoll, they found Si'Wren looking about her with a dazed expression,
propped up on one hand in the soft grass with which she was sprinkled,
totally unscathed.
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