Wraiths and Shadows

The Warlord could see her processing all this, but wasn't sure exactly how she felt about it. The emotions that flitted across her face was an enigma to him. Or perhaps he didn't want to understand them. Afraid that if he let himself, he would feel far too much pity for the situation she was in. For what he would do to her. He was a little disappointed that she didn't try to run. Damaged and weak as she was, she wouldn't have given him much of a chase.

He nodded goodbye to the guards without speaking, leading her out into the open. They had a great deal of mountain to traverse before they made it home. Why was he telling her this? To hurt her. To put it out in the open. Did she idolize the father she never knew? "Your father was a slaver. Ironic, isn't it?" He said, slowing to let her navigate a tricky set of rocks. He didn't offer her any aid, or acknowledge how much the path was likely to be hurting her injuries. "He stole my wife, and now I've stolen his child. It's almost a shame he didn't live to see it." His expression was almost regretful, but anger replaced it too quickly. "But that doesn't answer your question. I wanted to see what you would do. Would you follow your fathers killer, Meek as a lamb? I've changed my name. Mist doesn't suit you at all. Lamb. Your name is Lamb, little one." The change of topic as sudden as the way his anger came and went.