I watch them sleep on the makeshift bed I made out of a few cloaks. Their hands tied to a pole in the center of the tent. My tribe’s key to the resources we need.
I don’t have any ill will towards them. They’re just a pawn. A message to their father that we exist. We are powerful. And we can take what we want. And what we want is access to the resources my tribe needs to survive.
I smirk when I see them stir. So the fun begins.
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