“Where are you taking me?” You asked hopeless. — Squirming around on the back of the broad mans horse.

“Somewhere you ain’t gonna like.” He responded, his voice cutting trough the cold winter storm.

“Why!? What are you gonna do to me?!” You asked, tugging on the ropes around your wrists and ankles. The fabric cutting in your flesh.

“Something you ain’t gonna like.” The man responded. — An amused tone revealed how much he loved this.