David Robbins - The Fox Run

“How do you figure?” Jenny asked her.

“Simple.” Joan kept her gaze surreptitiously on the Trolls. “My head has cleared up. When they get us to their base, wherever it is, I bet they keep us under lock and key. It would be a lot harder to escape then. For some reason, these dummies haven’t even bothered to frisk me. I have a pocketknife in my back pocket. It will be easy to cut this rope and make a break for it. I’ll get to the Home and bring help.”

“I don’t know…” Jenny felt uneasy at the proposal.

“You really think you can do it?” Daffodil interjected.

Joan smiled. “Piece of cake.”

“Now where have we heard that expression before?” Lea asked.

“And she says he’s just a friend.” Saphire stressed the last three words and the women laughed.

“What the hell is so funny?” Saxon walked over and glared at them.

No one responded.

“I don’t understand you,” Saxon said.

“Why?” Jenny inquired.

“Most women would be going to pieces about now,” Saxon stated. “The Trolls are known far and wide. Our name strikes fear into the hearts of men and women. When we raid a town or camp, the people roll over and give us what we want. They know better than to cross the Trolls.”

“The Family didn’t roll over,” Joan proudly reminded him.

“No,” Saxon said, glowering at her, “they sure didn’t. Can’t understand it either.”

“It’s not difficult to understand,” Jenny stated.

“Oh?”

“We never heard of you before,” Jenny explained.

“Everyone’s heard of the Trolls,” Saxon boasted.

“Not us,” Jenny affirmed.

Saxon seemed puzzled. “You might be right,” he reluctantly agreed. “I told one of your men who we were. Surprised me when he tried to blow us away.” A thought struck him. “Your Family has a lot of guns, don’t they?”

Joan cast a warning glance at the other women and tapped her lips with her left index finger.

“Answer me,” Saxon ordered.

The women remained silent.

Saxon stepped up to Angela and clamped his muscular right hand around her thin neck. “Answer me or I’ll snap it like a twig!”

“We have guns, sure,” Joan hastily admitted. “Don’t know if you could call it a lot or not.”

“How many?” Saxon grinned maliciously as Angela feebly endeavored to extricate herself.

“I’ve never counted them,” Joan angrily snapped.

“That many?” Saxon released Angela, the germ of an idea growing in his mind. He reached under the folds of his bearskin cloak and withdrew his machete.

Where does he keep that hidden? Jenny wondered.

Saxon retrieved the tether from where he had dropped it earlier. “Let’s move!”

Jenny noticed two of the Trolls were leaving the group, walking west, back the way they had come. “Checking our trail?” she asked Saxon.

Saxon stared at the departing Trolls. “It’s just plain strange.”

“What is?”

“No one after us yet. It’s not right.”

“You nervous?”

Saxon looked at her. “Nope. Careful.” He turned and led the way as they moved through a dense portion of the forest.

“Mind if we talk?” Jenny questioned him.

Saxon shrugged. “Makes no nevermind to me. Just keep your voice down.”

“Why are you called Trolls?” Jenny pushed a protruding limb from her path.

“We’ve always been called the Trolls.”

“Where did you get your name?”

“How should I know?”

Jenny frowned. This was getting her nowhere. “Where are you taking us?”

“Fox.”

“What’s Fox?”

“You’ll see.”

She decided to be blunt, hoping her next question would not provoke him. “Why do you Trolls steal women?”

Saxon laughed lightly. “What a stupid question. How else would we get our women?”

“In our Family,” she elaborated for his benefit, “the men ask the women to be their mates. The women go willingly.”

“And what if the woman doesn’t want the man?” Saxon probed.

“Then she doesn’t have to become his mate.”

Saxon laughed again. “Sounds like a dumb way of doing things. Our way is easier.”

“You just take your women against their will,” Jenny said, irritated.

“You bully them, frighten them, and intimidate them. Is that any way to conduct a relationship?”

“Works for us.”

Jenny fell silent for a while, pondering the futility of trying to reason with him.

The sun was heading toward the western horizon, the gleaming orb visible whenever they crossed small clearings.

“What do you Trolls do with your women?” Jenny interrogated the giant.

“The usual,” was his gruff reply.

Calm yourself. Jenny mentally constrained her rising anger. “What is the usual?” she pumped him.

“Our women wash and sew and tend the children. They cook for us and service us at night. Or whenever.”

“Service you?” Jenny repeated.

Saxon chuckled. “A big girl like you must now what I mean.”

“What if the woman doesn’t want to service you?”

“We chop her into little pieces and feed her to Wolvie.”

“Wolvie?”

“You might get to meet him. Better hope you don’t, though.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Saxon twisted and grinned at her, “if you meet up with Wolvie, it will be the last meeting you ever have.”

Jenny involuntarily shivered as goose bumps broke out all over her body.

Was there a cold breeze picking up? Or was she reacting to the malevolent gleam in Saxon’s eyes and his leering expression?

Blade, where are you? She gazed over her right shoulder, suppressing an impulse to panic and attempt to flee. You better come soon. Real soon. Or you’ll be having your children with someone else.

“Pick up speed!” Saxon bellowed. “I want to reach that stream by dark.”

They reached a particularly compact tract of brush, compelling them to crouch and weave and contort their bodies to gain passage through the undergrowth.

Jenny flinched as a thorn bit into her left leg. She pulled the offending limb from her calf and concentrated on following the path Saxon was making. She could see him clearly and the two women behind her, but the others were hidden by the vegetation. She wondered how her sisters were holding up. Especially Angela. She was the weakest of the lot.

The brush ended and they found themselves at the edge of a clover-covered field.

Saxon studied the position of the sun. “We should make that stream by night, no problem. We’ll build some fires and start again at first light.”

“Saxon!” one of the Trolls shouted. “Saxon!”

Saxon whirled as Buck ran up to him.

Jenny glanced at the other women and immediately knew the reason for the alarm.

“What is it?” Saxon asked Buck, annoyed at the outburst. “It better be important.”

“The women!” Buck was so excited he had difficulty forming the words.

“It’s the women!”

“What about the women?” Saxon still hadn’t seen.

“One of them is gone!” Buck screamed.

Saxon’s face clouded in uncontrolled fury. “It’s the bitch with the mouth,” he said after he counted the captives.

“How did she do it? How?” Buck was unable to prevent his neck muscles from twitching.

Jenny recognized a nervous condition when she saw one. The Trolls all appeared to be markedly deficient in the intelligence department. Some of them, she had noted, would not speak unless they were spoken to. They were unnaturally reserved, almost withdrawn. A pattern was taking shape, but the implications of it all eluded her.

Saxon grabbed Buck by the front of his tunic. “It’s your fault, isn’t it?

You were supposed to keep watch, make sure none of them slipped away.