Her feeling wasn't wrong.

Vivia went about her job of collecting the Trygal Root, digging into the rocky earth to pry the little bulbs of dirt up. She was on her hands and knees, working with a particularly deep patch when she thought she heard something besides the dry wind echo over the hills. She looked up to see nothing but a boulder on the hill before her, but when she turned around, she swore she saw a head poking over the hill behind her before quickly ducking below her sight.

With that, she stood, frowning at he hill. “All right, come on out. I know you're there,” she shouted. She received nothing but silence for the moments afterward. So she walked their way, hands on her hips and a dour expression on her face.

She didn't make it three feet before the head, along with arms popped up again, and those arms were in motion, swinging something high above the head. She didn't have time to see what before it was sent flying her way. She tried to make a quick escape, but as soon as she turned around, her torso was caught by a heavy bolas, and her arms were pinned to her sides, locked in place by the weight of the stones' twisting the ropes tight around her waist.

She fell to the ground, her stomach falling onto the stones and knocking the wind out of her. Between coughs, she heard her captor's horse trot toward her, and when they sounded close, they spoke to her in some foreign tongue, and their voice was decidedly...