Under close inspection.

Feeling like concrete, her eyelids fluttered, and then shot open when she felt something pry her mouth open. Her eyes focused quickly and she saw the face her captor inches away from hers. She tried to pull away, but his grip was too strong. His fat gross fingers pushed her lips apart, and he moved her head around, checking her teeth and tongue like she was livestock. With a grunt and a squint, he let go of her, and ducked out behind a flap, leaving her alone. Spitting many times to try and get the taste and feel of his fingers from inside her mouth, Zoria herself calm and took stock.

She was in a fairly spacious if unkempt tent. The floor was littered with bones of animals she couldn't identify, empty bottles and water-skins, and dirty rags of various shapes and sizes. The only relatively tidy areas in there was a chest with loot haphazardly sticking out of it, an assortment of rusty and uncared for weapons by the flap, and a large pile of hides and furs at the back of the tent. Looking down, she saw that her hands had been bound by some thick leather straps, and that her ankle was tied to the center tent pole by a long rope. She tried pulling on it, but it was no use. The flap opened, letting a flickering of orange and yellow light in, brighter than through the tent's walls. Her captor returned with a haunch of cooked meat in his hand. Slouching over, he held it out to her and grunted something to her in his language. Zoria looked to it and him, and shook her head, "I, I don't know what you're saying," she said, her voice trembling.

Puzzled by both her actions, and the sounds she was making, her captor cocked his head at his prize, and looked at what he brought her. Bringing it to his nose, he sniffed at it, and then tore off a hunk with his teeth. He chewed upon it slowly, and nodded. It was cooked enough. He presented it to her again, and told her to eat. She was too skinny. She shook her head again, and his patience wore out. Slapping her hard across the face with the back of his hand, he knocked her to the ground. Throwing the meat onto the ground in front of her, he barked at her, demanding that she eat.

Pain radiating from her cheek and tears welling in her eyes, Zoria's head was ringing. She screamed back at him, "I don't understand! I don't know what you want!"

Reaching down, he grabbed her head and made her look at him. Picking up the meat, he bit down into it, ripped out a piece, and shoved it against her lips. He said one word and glared at her.

Guessing at what he was saying, Zoria reluctantly took a bite. Tearing off a hunk, she tasted the mixture of dirt, blood, and fat, and felt like she needed to vomit. She had no idea where this meat came from, but because she didn't see any animals outside, she was terrified of what exactly was in her mouth. But she didn't want to be struck again. Forcing the bile down, she swallowed the mouthful with great difficulty, and panted heavily when she finished.

Her captor eyed her down suspiciously. Taking another bite, he said the word again. The look she gave him was one of great despair and fear, a look he recognized on many slain foes, but he just frowned and repeated himself. Her face sunk, and it was only after a quick jostle, that she took another bite.

And so it went for the rest of the evening. He would take a bite, tell her to eat, and then she would eat. He would drink his stolen wine, tell her to drink, and then she would drink. He understood now that she did not know his language, so he would have to teach it to her.

He also hoped that she would be good enough to be worth teaching, and keeping.