The trouble was, I was wearing heels and she wasn't, on top of that Ijust wasn't used to walking in them let alone running. She caught me as Igot to the stairs and she dragged me kicking and screaming in to thelounge, I remember saying over and over, I'm not going I'm not going, youcan't make me. (this was about going to my uncle's house)I was wriggling and struggling so much, we were almost wrestling, but shewas a big girl, almost a woman and I was a weedy little boy, so she soonhad me overpowered. Where the belt came from she tied my wrists with, Iam not sure but I suddenly felt my wrists being bound and I couldn't getthem free. I have no idea how long it took but all I know is that I feltexhausted, very upset and tied over the back of one of the armchairs withmy head down and my legs dangling.She must have been quite mad because her face was very red, yet she alsoseemed odd, elated, almost excited. She was calling me a spoilt bitch andI felt her lifting that awful short skirt, she. All were closed off with rope draped across their entrances. He soon spotted the wide, arched doorway that led onto the portico.Tarras paused, his hands clasped casually behind his back. He looked one way up the corridor, and then the other. He knew there was a guard just around the corner at the end of the hall from where he had come, as he had spotted the man as he came off the stairs. But no guard whatsoever had this doorway in his direct line of sight.He stepped out onto the portico. The leaves rustled gently in the breeze overhead, and dappled sunlight jittered in swaying patterns along the tile. Spanning the tall columns that marked the outer edge of the portico were carved stone railings, entwined with bright green vines.Tarras stepped up to the railing. The edge of the trees stretched north and curved west, until it formed the northern edge of the field. He could see the men still marching in their formations from nearly ground level.He saw a path into the trees. It seemed to.
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