’ she cried. Two simple words, spoken in his language, Bruni smiled gently and rushed past her, after the Scots bastard. It did not take him long to...catch him. The bastard’s sword drawn in defense, as Bruni stalked towards him, he muttered something in that language of his that meagerly sounded like a warning. Smiling sardonically, Bruni moved ever closer, his sword held strong in his hand, no shake to his stance, no fear in his eyes. Not like this pathetic mass before him, sword looked. The body of Ethel liked it, but the person of Ethel was turning away from it. She didn't have to like it, and dammit, she didn't. Reality struck like an ice-block again, staggering her with its harshness. Half an hour ago, she had been happy, eager to share her day with her dad. A dad who was her only true friend, one she could bank on come hell or high water. Now she was underneath him, enjoying the entrance of his finger into her finger. She didn't know what hurt her more - her father's. More

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