from The Dark History of Castle Montenegro...

[GreyJack]

At the guards' entrance, Isabella realized neither pity nor reasoningwould sway these dullards. They leered at her nakedness, but otherwise went about their work with subdued, if clumsy, efficiency no doubt fearful of the Count's vengeance if they should leave some mark on his latest prey. One unhooked her wrist shackles from the wall, the other swiftly clamped a pair with a longer chain around her ankles. Each took an arm and led her carefully up the stairs to the clank of the links between her legs.

Through the hallway, they urged her and out into the courtyard. One of the guards carried a torch, the other unshackled an ankle and swung her up onto his saddle to sit in front of him and they rode down a rough pathway toward the now dark forest.

Once deep among the old trees, they halted. They looked around them with darting eyes. It seemed an eerie place, with several fallen trees and rugged, vicious thorny growths springing up amid the the tattered draperies of moss on the tree trunks and low hanging branches. It was almost pitch black now that the sun had descended and the moon was a pale, dim crescent high above.

Quickly they lifted Isabella from the horse and relocked the shackle around her ankle. For just the flicker of an instant, she thought she saw fear and perhaps even sympathy in the eyes of one of the guards, then it was replaced with the dull gaze of duty. They mounted their horses and rode off with a soft clatter of hooves on the forest mud.

Isabella looked around with a turmoil of emotions roiling within her. Fear, disgust, hatred fought for control. As she looked into the darkness, the moonlight glinted a moment on something shining from where the guards had ridden off. She ran to it and was shocked to see a small naked blade dagger lying on the ground. She plucked it up and tried to use the point to pry out the bolt in her ankle shackle cuff, but not a minute later, she heard the loud baying of hounds approaching...she cocked her head to try to gauge the direction and then, clutching the small knife, began to hobble off in the opposite direction.