Melisa woke to a pounding headache and the taste of blood in her mouth. She tried to touch her head but found her hands wouldn't move.
[What the fuck?]
Her eyes snapped open. She was sitting on dirt, wrists chained to two wooden posts on either side of her. The chains were tight enough that she couldn't move her fingers to draw spellsigns.
[Well, that's just great.]
She looked around, taking stock of her situation. She was in some kind of tent—large, with animal skins covering the ground and various weapons hanging from racks. Light filtered in through the entrance, telling her it was still daytime.
Her boots were gone, as was her wand. But they'd left her clothes on, which she supposed was something to be grateful for.
[Focus, Melisa. Need to find a way out of here.]
She tested the chains. Solid iron. The posts, however, didn't look quite as sturdy. If she could just get enough leverage...
