(Sorry for the late post!)
Marilyn sank onto the bed, rubbing the scar around her wrist that markd her as one of Lord Michael’s slaves. She took a long shaky breath. After pulling her sleeve down to cover the mark, Marilyn pulled herself to her feet and wandered to the window. They’ll come to the inn. They’ll find me! She shook her head and rubbed her eyes. Stop thinking such things! You’ll be free soon.
She laid down, and drifted into a light uneasy sleep. She’d forgotten something. What had she forgotten?
A loud thud against the wood floor brought Marilyn out of her slumber. Two feet away, stood a man in a dark cloak. “Marilyn Cosaway.”
“What? That is not my name! You must be mis-”
The man snatched her arm and pulled up her sleeve, revealing the scar. “Marilyn Cosaway, slave of Lord Michael.” He dragged to the window…the window Marilyn had left open, and shoved her out, into the arms of another man.
Tears stung Marilyn’s cheeks, as the bound and slung her over the back of a horse. How could such a small mistake lead to her capture?
Marla Moore's Palace of Stories 