Masculine.

Whoever it was that attacked Vivia, they spoke in a language she did not know, in a deep, masculine voice. They didn't seem to understand her either, as her pleas were not responded to appropriately.

With her breath knocked out of her from her fall, she didn't have the strength to roll over and get a better look at the man until his horse was right next to her. By the time she turned enough to notice the shadow that fell over her, two hooves planted themselves beside her shoulders, allowing no room for escape, even if she could lift the stones weighing her down.

“What do you want?” Vivia shouted, to no response. When she finally managed to get a look at her captor, though, she saw an unexpected sight.

Looming above her was the body of a horse, yet from its neck up the creature took the form of a man with bold features and a primal visage. She was caught by a centaur—beings from the wildlands most people of Ilustoria know to be violent savages.

She suddenly started struggling again, all the harder. There was no telling what he might do to her, but she didn't expect good things. Her struggle was in vain, however, and the centaur began to lean down with a wickedly curved knife in his hand.

Vivia shut her eyes tight and prepared for the worst, until she felt the knife tear the rear of her breeches open. She let out a breath she didn't know she held, and her breathing came in quick intervals as the centaur straightened once more, stepping forward.

Now her fate was clear to her, and Vivia was helpless to prevent it, doubled over the heavy bolas stones as she was, arms pinned to her sides, and a lack of breath behind her bruised ribs. Or was she? The centaur positioned himself at her exposed rear, and something massive pressed up between her legs...