She had tried to resist. Tried to fight against him, to run back to her lover and her family and the place she called home, but her attempts had been futile. He was larger and stronger than her - and quicker than she thought he would be. He overpowered her easily, and soon he had her and another of Dogun's mares swimming towards Salem, the frigid water biting and stinging at her flesh like so many tiny needles. As they pass various islands, she wonders if she could make a run for it. If she is quick enough, she could make it. But she knows she will only be able to get so far before their paths cross again.

Now, as they surface on the Dunes' ocean border, she finds herself missing the Inlet more than ever. It is hot here, and with her winter coat grown in, she feels sticky and sweaty. The perspiration that gathers on her coat makes her feel heavy, weighed down, as she moves. She is faintly aware that he has begun speaking. She manages to pull herself back into reality to catch his question. He wants to know their names. Part of her - the childish, stubborn, immature part of her - wants to pout and scream and bite at him. Her eyes begin to sting, suddenly.

She glares at him through her tears, trying her best to stop her body from quivering. Her throat and chest tightens further, and she forces herself to look away from him. Her eyes settle briefly on the horizon - the direction from which they came - and she has to choke back a sob as she thinks of her home, of Dogun and the family she was so cruelly forced to leave behind. She redirects her gaze towards the sand at her feet, lips curved downwards into a deep frown. She knows she should answer his questions - it is the polite thing to do, after all, and she wants to make a good impression (because perhaps if she does, he will take pity on her and let her go home.) But she can't bring herself to speak, can't force her lips to move or her tongue to work. She settles for a heavy sigh, swallowing thickly and pushing back the wave of fear and grief that threatens to consume her.

When she has composed herself enough - when her body has stopped trembling and she can see through the tears that gather in her eyes - she turns to face him, jaw clenching and lips pursing. "Freya." she forces the word from her mouth, her tongue feeling dry and thick. She suddenly craves a cool drink of water, and finds herself longing for the Inlet's refreshing mountain springs. But she knows she can't go back there; not now... perhaps not ever, if the Fates decided to be cruel. A pang of melancholy strikes her heart as she realizes her daughter - their daughter - will never know her true home. She nearly breaks out into tears again, right then and there, but she doesn't, forcing herself to remain stoic. She glances towards the flowing river he stands next to, and although part of her wants to be a stubborn bitch, the logical, rational part of her reminds her that it is a waste of time and energy. So she moves, lowering her head and touching her lips to the water's surface. She drinks deeply, relief washing over her as the cool liquid works its way down her parched throat.