high above the highway aisle

hehe maybe @Vengeance ?

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It's night, now. She ought to be sleeping, indeed, exhaustion tugs at her every step and the dark seems to swirl with the edges of her vision. But the thought of closing her eyes and slipping away fills her with an odd measure of dread, and so she continues onward. As she moves, the woman falls into a simple rhythm, and her thoughts begin to wander, to press against the void at the edges of recollection where memories should be. And then, without being entirely aware of it, she begins to dream, thoughts meandering and shifting, and something beckons at the edge of memory, and

Jolt ripples through her forelimb and she is immediately thrust back to wakefulness, adrenaline spiking as she stumbles, gracelessly, forelimb caught under a root. She can not help the yell that escapes as she rolls onto her side, or the way her ankle twists beyond the way it is supposed to twist. Jaws clench, choking down the next yell, and heat and pain rush to her ankle in equal measure.
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A yelp summons him to investigate the sound of pain. The melody of rustling foliage as they bent out of the way of the warlord who approached quickly, enticed and interested in knowing what had made such a beautiful song and not without him being a part of it. Powerful limbs cut through the woods with ease, quickly honing in on the area that he could have sworn was the origin of the squeal.

Slowly his pace grew sluggish, careful... methodical as he scanned the unfurling ferns as they too were summoned by spring's warm touch. They were still newborn, small, and barely anything to shelter the little babe who squirmed among them. He couldn't tell what was wrong at first, drawn into what he could simply tell was an injured little girl as he prowled forward. Crimson eyes focussed on her gentle little features.

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+1 point

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The adrenaline and throbbing hurt make for a rude and sudden awakening, and for a moment she wonders if this is some dream she's been thrust into, that complete disorientation from this morning returning. The sudden appearance of a red-eyed specter accompanied by the stench of putrid rot has a nightmare more likely, but she realizes dimly that she is awake. Surely she wouldn't be able to feel pain like this in a dream, though she is vaguely aware of the fact that she has been through much, much worse. 

She can only stare, meeting those hellfire-lit eyes for a moment before her gaze abruptly drops. She curls her injured forelimb slowly in toward her, as if she might try to hide the weakness from the hellhound, and can only bring a hoarse, wavering, "hello" to her lips. Bramble is still not sure if she can trust in the authenticity of the beast she sees before her; he may just as well be a fragment from a dream.
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Their eyes met, soft liquid blues with furious fire. He slows further, drinking in the moment and letting it linger just a little while longer. It was precious after all. She brings one of her legs in protectively, he could only assume it was that limb that had caused her to scream out the way she did. The young lady must have twisted it somehow, perhaps broken though it didn't smell like it had torn through her skin with the lack of blood staining the air and ground.

“Little lamb.” he cooes grimly, a drawl in his voice as he let his words linger. “Why are you here?” A certain harshness grew in his tone, again, the territorial part of him bubbling up to the surface as his body sways toward her. Slowly he crept further, encroaching on her personal space and should she truly not be able to distance herself from him, it would only take a little while longer for the wretched man to be hovering just inches away from her curled up frame. Putrid breath certainly felt from this distance upon her tender skin.

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This is how prey felt, she realized. And she knew well the instinct that made her break after hare and deer; the moment they turned, and run, she would be after them. And so even as he neared, and the stench of him grew sickening, she remained still, hoping the submissiveness, the stillness of her would be enough to keep his lips over his fangs. She's reeling, hardly come to terms with being here and now with the monsters that apparently stalk wherever here is, but the voice in her head can only repeat her new mantra: don'tmovedon'tmovedon'tmovedon'tmove

"I don't know," she begins, voice still rasping against her throat, "where here is. I can go; I can leave." This is his claim; she's sure of it. She curls her limb tighter to her, small sound escaping her muzzle as the steady throb turns blinding a moment. She's no idea what wrong with it; whether it's a simple strain or something more serious, but she certainly can't find out with this eldrich being looming over her.
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Her terror was palpable. Like sweet nectar, he soaked it all in. "I don't know" she says, her voice barely audible as she croaks. His gait changed, sidestepping as he circled around her slowly, observing the poor little thing he found wandering Celnes' woods. Remembering the future king's words, this little one wasn't her type after all so why not have a little bit of fun with them? Grey was certainly closer to the detestable white the elk woman despised so.

“Can you?” He teased, stopping for a moment as if he was giving her the space to do just that. To get up and leave just as she said she would be able to do. “You're free to do so.” He lowered his head as he spoke smoothly, dreadfully calm and deep as he took once again another step forward, this time, reaching out to test the girl out and touch her with his cold, black, nose on an exposed part of her hip.

Like a cat with a mouse, he wanted to have a little bit of fun.

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He gives his consent, but somehow, it doesn't feel like it. This time, she can not bring herself to answer, willing the roots to swallow her up. She's an idiot, well and truly; she's barely been here (where or whatever here is) for a day and already she's met its monster and managed to make it harder for herself to survive by tripping over a goddamn root. She squints her eyes closed, but they flicker open again when the thing touches her. It's the spike of adrenaline she needs, she needs to get it together. 

"Yes," she answers, hating still the rasp of her voice. She's pretty sure it's not supposed to sound like that, at least, it doesn't in her head. "Thank you. If you could—" She loses her nerve then, but seizes it again after a moment. She slides out from his touch, heaving herself up onto three limbs, the fourth held high, pain made manageable by the ungodly amounts of adrenaline coursing through her. "If you could show me the way out, I'll go." She's quivering, she notes, some combination of pain and adrenaline and exhaustion. But she does not shift her gaze from the man, no matter how much she wants to squeeze it shut; she's certain that if she does, he'll pounce on her like a cat a mouse.
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His touch lit something within her. Finally, the girl found the fire under her ass to move and away from him. Yet he pressed on, keeping a steady control over the situation by swallowing up the distance she tried so desperately to maintain by stepping forward and creeping ever so close to her.

“Wouldn't you want that leg of yours to be looked after before you leave?” He hums as gently as a roaring fire, tilting his head noting the lifted limb she refused to use. He knew even with his lack of speed in comparison to such a nimble-looking young woman - that leg of hers couldn't outpace him for long. “What kind of man would I be sending you out there with one less limb?”

He almost wanted to keep her for a little while... a little plaything until she could slip away all on her own. Oh how much fun would that be? It was her fault for trespassing after all, it was his right as guardian to these lands, as an ally to the King of these soon-to-be lands to do whatever he pleased with the little pests who wandered in unwelcomed. “Come, let me look at it.” He teased again.

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He really was a fragment from some nightmare, drawing ever closer. If she weren't a coward, she thinks, she wouldn't play whatever game he seemed to be setting up. Her thoughts began to stumble over one another, and for a moment she doubts; he hadn't done anything outright monstrous. Just maybe, his concern was genuine — yeah, right, if she ignored the look, stench, and general vibe he gave off. But doubt; in herself, in him, had taken hold, and the right course of action was no longer clear. 

"It's alright. I'm a healer." Was she? The words came easily, and when she thought about it, a vague memory came to find; a plant, its shape and scent. Not a very good one. You ate those brown things, and then — The thought comes suddenly, brings a host of flickering images and scents that are just as quickly gone. Her brow furrows, she can't seem to keep it straight, and his teasing voice comes again. This time, she only extends her injured limb; her ankle is already swollen, bruised, and throbbing. Broken, or strained; she's still not sure. Her gaze shifts just as quickly back to him, hating the unease that floods her the moment she takes her eyes off the beast.
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She uttered the words he longed to hear ever since entering this strange new world. I found you, his thoughts echoed greedily. Ever since waking up, the man was cautious about injuries, unsure how to deal with them himself other than makeshift salves he could guess at, but never fully trust. So he needed a healer... and here was one upon his doorstep.

A decision was made. She was not going anywhere any time soon, he would make sure of it one way or another. Preferably she would remain on her own free will in time... otherwise, well, he wasn't a stranger to breaking limbs in order to keep what he needed within arms reach.

She extends her limb, swollen but not twisted in strange angles. He could only assume it was but a bad sprain, within a few days if not a week she may make a run for it. He had to fix that. “That looks painful.” He sighs finally, hiding his pleasure with a thin veil. “As a healer, how do you suppose we deal with this?” It was hard to fight the urge pick her up and hide her away here and now.

He wanted her.

More than anything in this moment.

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Her tongue moves over her lips nervously as he comments on it. The fact that her ankle is still at a straight angle is emboldening, and carefully, she flexes her toes, finally pressing the limb to the ground and adding a touch of weight. A wince wrinkles her muzzle; painful, but not the blinding-hot pain that would signify a break. A sprain then, most likely; she can deal with this. It's his next words that spark fear; there is no we. She needs to make a run for it - not literally, she has the feeling that if she simply turned to leave, it'd end poorly for her. Bramble clears her throat, pulling the limb off the ground and searching a moment for the right words. 

"It's probably just a sprain. I — I think it should heal alright on its own."  she shifts slightly; offering him her side instead of facing him head on. " I won't burden you further. I'll go, just — this way?" She falters, trying to lead back to her original offer to get out of here, taking a wavering step forward before pausing again.
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Slight power play allowed by Thalia!

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There was no convincing her. It was evident the girl's instincts screamed at her to leave this place, leave the monster within these woods to their own devices and never look back; unfortunately for her, he wouldn't make her escape easy now that he knew what she claimed to be. He watches her carefully as the girl tests her leg, confirming a diagnosis of her own that it was simply a sprain... adamant about leaving on her own accord.

“Hmm... that just simply won't do.” He sighs, eyes like fire, almost warm in a false sense of security. The monster felt like he was in total control over this situation, it felt like static in his veins. Intoxicating. “I assure you, you are no burden to me.” He cooes, creeping in ever more as his decision was set... his next actions, were to keep her here by any means necessary.

With a snap of his body he lunges forward, jaws reaching to grab hold of the girl's injured leg and bite down with bone-shattering force. Pulling in order to take her off her feet once and for all. Regardless of what the girl would do, his ultimate goal was to grab her by the scruff and lift her off the ground to carry her off. It didn't matter how much she fought, she was his now.

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She can feel the spark of it before it happens, like ozone before a lightning strike. And even though it seems, for a moment, as if she can trace every movement through the air before it happens, she can only sluggishly recoil as the boogyman moves with a speed she'd not thought possible, teeth pulling free from scarred lips and finding their sheath in her leg. Her mouth opens and she can only assume a scream tears out of it, but she can only hear a ringing through the pain. Pain is an understatement for what she feels tear through every fiber of her, some force that promptly silences every thought and turns her into a purely feral creature, one who snaps frantically at the man's face. She's fraying, she can't breathe and she can't see and —

And that's the last coherent(-ish) thought she puts together that night, as her consciousness decides to close up shop for the evening and darkness corrodes her vision entirely.
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Her scream was delightful, music to his ears and this time, it was him handing out the pain which had given him the ultimate pleasure. Teeth and claws met his face, scraping and clawing through tender skin and yet it did not deter his desire to take her with him. He tightened his grip and waited until she calmed... and calm she did.

With his prize hanging limp in his mouth, the monster happily dragged her off to her new home where he would be keeping her. For now, he would lick her wound clean and whenever she awoke, he would ensure the wound would not be infected through her assistance... but no attempt on his part to aid mend that broken leg of hers. It was imperative for his plan in keeping her with him after all.

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