“She held onto that tight enough. What’s in it, the family jewels?”

There was no answer. After a while I opened my eyes a little. Red was closing the flap of the bag.

“Not much,” he said. His voice sounded strange. He looked strange too, his face went in and out of focus as he bent over me. I clenched my teeth in revulsion.

“I think she’s sick. Here, give me your cloak, Ben.”

“Hey, it’s cold. What about me?” The reply was plaintive, but his companion handed it over, and I felt its warmth settle around me. The man’s hand touched my shoulder, and I flinched away, biting back a scream. For a moment I stared straight up into his eyes, which were blue and bore a puzzled look. He was frowning.

“Easy,” he said. “Easy there,” as if talking to some nervous horse or half-wild dog. Now, I thought. Now they’ll try to grab hold of me and I’ll—and I’ll—my mind got no further, for there were three of them, all armed, and all far bigger and stronger than those others. These were hardened travelers. I had no chance. But I had sharp teeth and nails, and I would use them until I had no strength left.

“Take your clothes off,” said Red, and my body curled in on itself in terror. I felt myself shaking. My thumping heart measured the silence. How long before they laid their filthy hands on me? How long could I stifle the scream of outrage that welled in my throat?

“What’s wrong with you?” his voice was exasperated. “Here.” He was holding something out to me. Ben spoke.

“She doesn’t understand you, Red. After all, she’s one of the natives, and a couple of sheaves short of the haystack at that.”

“More likely she’s been hurt before,” put in the older man. “Terrified to let you near her. Give her the clothes, and move back. Not much point in trying to talk to her; I doubt if she has the wit to understand you, let alone the language. You need to show her you mean no harm.”

My rescuer raised his eyebrows and put what he was carrying down on the ground next to me. Then the three of them moved back to the edge of the overhang and, exchanging glances, turned away from me.

“This is stupid,” Ben said, with his back to me. “Who is this, some princess of the blood? First, she’s a barbarian; second, she’s about as bright as a lump of wood; and third, Redbeard’s men are on our trail, armed to the teeth, and here we are observing the niceties of female modesty. I think this forest waif has turned your heads.”

“Shut up, Ben,” said Red, and his companion did.

I realized I’d been given a rather big shirt of coarse linen, and a belt to keep it on. It smelled of sweat, but it was dry. There was some sort of undershirt as well.