This one is almost first-draft revised. Just another thousand or so words to go! …Man, it’s nice to get myself back up to a reasonable daily word-count. I had been slacking in my retirement.
…it felt good to strike a blow against those enemies, even though they’d undoubtedly kill her when she came back. She didn’t mind, much. If it would suit God’s purpose for Liz’a to don the martyr’s crown, she would do so and joyfully.
Assuming that she didn’t kill these idiots herself first.
“Dear God in Heaven,” Liz’a thought, “but how have any of these priests survived?” The three men and two women (all human) weren’t in bad shape, exactly. The Carnivores hadn’t tortured or starved them, although baths had apparently been rationed out. And the priests weren’t even complainers.
But none of them knew how to move. The plain that was likely to be the next day’s battlefield wasn’t empty: there were probably scouts and raiders from both sides skulking about, and Liz’a was not confident that her safe-passages would work out there in the dark. Strike that: she knew that they wouldn’t.