I cried out, but he didn’t stop. Instead, a weakness in my binding revealed itself. My mouth piece had slipped during my struggle. Latching onto this, I worked my jaw until, finally, I wiggled free. I gasped, filling my burning lungs. I was abducted, but I could breathe.

Gripping my neck and thigh through the sack, he heaved me onto a horse that whinnied with my weight. I tottered precariously, and another pair of hands steadied me. There were two of them! Who had sent them? Was it Condor and Martin, the leaders of the White-Face Army? In that case, I had to warn the bandits that their enemies were close. Just then, one of my captors spoke. His words filtered through the lining of the sack.

“This her?” one asked.

“Yes, this her,” the other confirmed.

I heard the rustle of paper unfolding.

A limb brushed my head as my captor passed the paper to his mate, who took it, then untied my sack. Air rushed in, and I sensed him comparing me to the likeness he held.

He grunted his approval and retied the sack.

Inside, my mind raced. They’d made no mistake. It was me they were looking for—but why?

Minutes later we rode, hard and fast. I jostled continually, but managed to stay on the horse. I barely noticed my pain and thirst as I focused on collecting tidbits of information that would help me navigate once I escaped. The sound of the horse hooves on the ground, the feel of the little light that filtered through to me, the smell of the air and tilt of my body as I swayed left and right. Over time I worked my hands free. I untied my blindfold and tugged at the knot around my ankles. Finally, around midday, I was loose.

I stayed put in the sack, however, afraid to alarm my captors and lose the element of surprise. Before I made a move, I needed a plan. The sack had a tight lattice weave, but it was not impermeable. I found a small hole and widened it, with my little finger, into a peephole. Through it, I saw one of my captors. He was huge. He sat bareback, his thick legs gripping his beast like a vise. He held the mane in one hand and a giant battle-axe in the other. His skin was the color of soot, which made the white paint on his face more fearsome. The horse I occupied was tied by a rope to his waist.