Save whoever you can

With the beast gone you turn you attention back to the whimpering ****. "Come on," you whisper urgently to her. "We'd better move."

Pushing yourself to your feet is easy enough, despite your wrists stil being bound. What hurts is the splintered stone beneath your soles. Ignoring the pain you shuffle over to the sobbing woman. She seems to be about your age but she's clearly been here for very much longer.

"Can you move?" you question, whispering as loudly as you dare.

Scarred eyes blink at you. It's almost as if she doesn't understand.

"Move!" you whisper again, wincing as something crashes down in the goblin camp.

This time she responds, uncurling herself and standing up. She's not bound but the remains of a knot hang from her right wrist.

"Good. Can you untie me?" you look around, making sure no one's noticed your movement.

There's no action from the **** girl. "Untie me?" you try again. This time she moves, quicking working her slender fingers to unfasten the rope from around your hands.

"Good. Come on! Follow me!" and with that you head off into the darkness, hoping that the woman is following behind you. The choice of direction is easy - away from the melee and away from the goblins. The woods you're approaching may look imposing in the night but at least they'll be a place to hide.

Soon enough the closely knit trees have put the goblin camp out of sight. Just a few minutes of marching through the thick woodlands seems to have made the monster melee nothing more than a distant nightmare. You can't even hear the roar of combat anymore.

Your fellow escapee says nothing, apparently content to follow your lead as you wind your way through the softwood trunks. After little more than hour you've come a fair distance.

"There's not much we can do about our tracks tonight," you say softly, still keeping your voice low, as you turn to face the other naked woman. "We just have to hope they're too busy to send any scouts in this direction."

She says nothing, simply stands and watches you.

"What's your name?" you ask, growing a little impatient with her lack of response while scolding yourself for being grumpy with someone who's probably in a state of shock.

Her lips begin to move, slowly, ever so slowly she says; "What would you like it to be?"

You blink. What a strange answer. Has her mind simply retreated in order to cope the rough treatment the goblins gave her? You can see bruises all over her body. Had it not been for the bruises, muck, grim and mess that covered her body you might have even described her as attractive and athletic. Right now, in the woods, in the dark, she looks more like a shadowy mess.

You shrug, "I think you should name yourself. I'm not a monster you know."

Her reaction is surprising. Her eyes widen in alarm. "The island will demand that you name me... The **** is always named. If you don't do it then someone else will."