After she was washed and wiped dry, a couple of the women used combs of crude wood to groom her hair. The mood was subdued and a polar opposite of the fuck party just a short time ago. Despite the fact that they had, as a group, ravaged and pleasured themselves with her; there was still some fear and fascination for this large, hairless female. She had killed quite a few of them and; according to the raiding party; was as strong and vicious as a masa in heat! It wasn't her blood that was washed from her body.
One of Nallas' guards had entered the chamber after the orgy and admonished the males to be more cautious with the large woman. "She's vicious and dangerous! She might fuck good but she fights better, I saw her tear Vaggas' arm off and dash his brains out!"
A half dozen guards were positioned around her now with weapons at the ready. Little good it would do them when she decided to make her move. A 'subroutine' of [SITUATIONAL ANALYSIS] was playing out strategies in her mind, plotting and calculating each move she would make; playing them in vivid detail as she calmly assessed this situation. She knew that [SITUATIONAL ANALYSIS] could be used with [COMBAT PROTOCOL] to manage her ability to inflict mayhem. Vera sat quietly as the women combed her hair. She amused herself by initiating eye contact with the guards, calmly appraising each one until he looked away. Their fear of her was intense and growing. That was good, she needed an edge.
More memories of her previous life were occurring to her now, short flashes that teased her amnesia. She saw faces, human faces like hers, speaking in a familiar language -- Galach Standard. Dravo had told her the name of it. He said some of the traders he'd met used it among themselves. He couldn't converse with her in it, but he could recognize it when he heard it spoken. It was her primary tongue; it's sounds and shapes were the language she heard in her thoughts.
She remembered other places: vistas of grey skies and greyer land. Green rivers that snaked lazily through blue jungles. Images of cities, huge towers surrounded by sprawling settlements. Some of the inhabitants of these places looked like her, others were similar, and others were so different she wasn't sure what they were. She put those thoughts on hold for now. She needed to focus on freeing herself, killing as many of them as necessary, and rescuing Salema. She hoped Dravos' arrival would be soon. Situational analysis strongly recommended a distraction/diversion that would allow her to go into action with a few seconds of surprise. Even with a distraction, she would need to act at the right moment. She flexed the wet leather bonds and locked eyes with the head guard. The straps could be easily removed when she was ready. The guard looked away as Nallas' two guards entered the chamber.
"Stand, prisoner, Davama is ready for you now."
She was led into a larger cave that was Davamas' throne room.
A fire burned in the center and torches were placed around its walls. She was forced to her knees facing a stout monkeyman seated on a carved bench that was the throne. It was Davama, she was sure of it. He looked older than Dravo but she knew from Dravos' conversations that he was several years younger than her monkeylord lover. He regarded Vera without expression.
