But the closer she came to the waterfall, the higher
and steeper became the bank along which she rode, and the more her
mount labored. Already suffering from the arrows in his neck, he was
drawing near to a state of total exhaustion.
Then behind her she heard the fresh shouts of her pursuers as they
topped the final rise and began to fan out, cutting her off while they
surrounded her in a half-circle.
They lusted upon her with evil stares, until the stub-end of the arrow
in her chest was seen by several of them and indicated to the others
with much arm-pointing. Then their looks were transformed to insolent,
harsh contempt. What was her life to them anyways? The sight of her
suffering engendered nothing but contempt in their looks. Loftily, they
all kept back from her by a distance of several rods, with newcomers
doing the same as they arrived, and forming a great semi-circle around
her with both ends close to the river banks, effectively cutting off
her escape.
Then their leader finally came cantering up into their midst on his
speckled gray steed and lurched through their enclosing line to get a
good look at her.
He paraded back and forth on his nervously prancing steed, displaying
an aura of wickedness. One look into his heavily lidded, toadlike eyes,
so lifeless and sickeningly dead, utterly convinced Si'Wren that this
man's soul must surely have already died a long time ago while his body
was yet alive.
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