LOTS Fic: Aydindril Burning 6/? (Cara/Kahlan)
Adrenaline overtook arousal as her intimate connection with Cara was broken. She rolled off the table, clutching what was left of her clothes around her. Kahlan grew up in rural Montana, she recognized the sound of high caliber rifle shots when she heard them. Cara hadn’t been completely paranoid - someone was trying to kill her. Kahlan would feel guilty about her lack of trust later, however. Now she needed to find her way to the bedroom and her gun safe. She was not exactly a gun nut, but you couldn’t grow up in Aydindril, a stalwart outpost of the Second Amendment, without owning at least one gun. Kahlan kept her mother’s old .22 in the safe for hunting.
Sticking low to the ground and avoiding the windows, Kahlan crept through the house. Muscle memory led her safely around the furniture in the dark. The stairs creaked, but the sound was muffled compared to the sharp crack of bullets splintering the siding of her house. The continued hail of gunfire was actually comforting - their unseen attacker would not still be shooting if Cara were dead.
Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness by the time Kahlan made it to her room. The gun safe opened smoothly on well-oiled hinges. Kahlan grabbed the rifle and a box of bullets before sidling toward her window. It was her favorite view in the house, offering her the warm morning sun and a view of her well manicured lawn and the quiet main street of Aydindril with rolling hills behind. Now everything was eerily dark outside the window. The streetlights were still out. And where was Sheriff Brandstone? Their attacker was not being particularly quiet.
She settled her back against the wall and braced the rifle between her knees. It held ten shots in the magazine in the butt. Each bullet slid into place easily. Just like hunting quails, Kahlan assured herself, big blood-thirsty sniper quails. The rifle shots stopped and she could hear muffled yelling outside, though she couldn’t make out the words. Betting that their attacker was now distracted, she took the opportunity to raise the window sash and set the barrel of her weapon on the sill.
Where were they being sniped from? Close enough they could be carrying on a shouted conversation with Cara. Snipers always worked from a high point, at least in movies. There were two houses nearby, one on each side of the street. If the sniper were operating from a house, they were either on the roof or in an upper story window.
She glanced down, her eyes caught by movement in the front yard. A flash of blonde was dashing out of the bushes and toward the house on the left. Desperate to provide cover fire, Kahlan aimed at one dark window and squeezed the trigger. The glass exploded. Trying to calm her shaking hands, she ejected the empty shell and aimed at the next window. Another pane of glass shattered. There was no return fire.
She prepared for her next shot, tracking Cara as she crossed the sidewalk and threw her shoulder into the house’s door. Then she was gone. Kahlan didn’t want to accidentally catch Cara with a bullet. She had done what she could.
Blowing out a long, uneven breath she turned and slid her back down the wall until she was sitting on the floor again.
When had her life become some sort of Sapphic Call of Duty? She hit the safety on her rifle with her thumb. The phantom of Cara’s caresses was still on her heated skin. If anything, the danger and adrenaline had rekindled her arousal. She licked her lips, tasting Cara there. She was in a lot of trouble.
And then her bedroom door was kicked open and she was in even more trouble. Two women in blood red military uniforms, sporting night vision goggles and wielding wicked assault rifles, burst in. Before she could even lift her weapon, one of the soldiers was pressing a taser to her neck. Oblivion reached up and pulled her down into the darkness. Of course, wolves hunt in packs - the last thought that passed through her conscious mind.
***
Darkness surrounded her - a blackness so deep she despaired of ever clawing her way out. Panic seized her lungs. There wasn’t enough air. The world was closing in. She was being smothered by the lack of light. She tried to kick, to thrash and break out of it only to find that she was bound. Immobile. Slowly, slowly, her heart calmed. It was a hood over her face; she could detect the rough texture and the weight of the material. She was being jostled around as if in a car on a back road. Time lost meaning with no external markers by which to judge its passage. She was transferred roughly from the vehicle into another seat. She felt the pressure of take off. She must be in an airplane.
It didn’t take long, somewhere in the car, that she began to hallucinate. At first she had tried to keep her eyes closed behind the blindfold or mask, and concentrate on her breathing. She couldn’t, however, there was too much turmoil inside of her. With her eyes open, the absolute darkness wreaked havoc on her brain. Visions of Cara, mouth and chin wet from Kahlan’s arousal, gazing up the length of her nude body to make eye contact as she spiraled down from her climax tormented her. At first it was just Cara in her kitchen, kneeling in front of the table, like they had been right before they were rudely interrupted. But then it began to change - a new location with every permutation, as if Cara would be with her no matter where she was forever.
The pictures dancing before her blinded eyes were almost comforting, before they slowly were replaced by Richard. Richard looking disappointed. Richard shouting, maybe crying. Richard with an intense look of betrayal in his usually soft eyes. At least, the likelihood of her surviving this kidnapping seemed slight. She would never have to explain to Richard what she had done with his best friend. What she wanted to do again.
CHAPTER TWELVE: I want to reconcile the violence in your heart, I want to recognize your beauty is not just a mask
The interior of the house was eerily quiet. At first Cara wondered where the family that lived there had gone, but the sticky footprints that led up the stairs were a dead giveaway - literally. Cara expected nothing else from Denna. She adjusted her grip on the handle of the kitchen knife. Denna had undoubtedly tracked her movement into the house, even with Kahlan’s surprising cover fire. The Mord-Sith would be prepared, or had already made good her escape.
She didn’t bother to disguise the sound of her footsteps as she walked with a measured tread up the stairs. Let Denna hear how unafraid she was, how totally unaffected she had been by Denna’s assault. Denna had made no effort to cover her trail either. The bloody footsteps lead down the upper hallway and into the master bedroom, though what lay inside Cara couldn’t see since the door was firmly closed.
She paused, leaning her shoulder against the door frame and listening intently. No sound. She licked her lips, tightened her grip on the knife again and then spun, slamming the heel of her bare foot into the door just above the latch, sending it crashing off of its hinges. Splinters flew through the air as Cara dashed into the room, hoping to use the chaos as cover. There was a figure by the window, and Cara charged, knife slashing only to have her arm caught at the wrist. Denna snapped Cara’s wrist neatly, followed by an elbow to the face that sent her opponent sprawling, blood streaming from her broken nose.
“Shit, Denna,” Cara screamed in rage. She cradled her arm to her body, retreating to try to find a better footing and a new opportunity for attack. “Is that the way you greet all beautiful women?”
“Not so beautiful anymore,” Denna snorted. She was edging around Cara, moving to subtly block her exit.
“Matter of opinion,” Cara glanced back and forth between Denna and the knife where it had fallen on the floor. There was no sign of Denna’s sniper rifle. She must have broken it down and stowed it while she waited for Cara to arrive. Denna was always efficient and prone to showing more affection to her weapons then she did to her lovers. Cara had some firsthand knowledge. “Frankly I think blood red is my color.”
Denna reached behind her, smoothly unholstering her Agiel from its place nestled in the small of her back. She pointed the gun at Cara, aim unwavering. Cara visibly flinched. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have pissed on your uniform and walked away from your country.”
“Maybe,” Cara shrugged her good shoulder, feigning nonchalance. There was no way out. She could only hope now that Denna was interested in her, and not in Kahlan. Her mind was a whirl and there was a grinding sense of anxiety growing deep in her belly. If only Denna would lower the gun she would be able to regain her equilibrium.
“Don’t worry though, Cara, because I know just the thing we can do for you.” The smile that Denna flashed her nearly froze the blood in her veins. Denna was quick, one of the fastest Cara had ever seen in hand to hand combat. She tried to block the blow, but her injured wrist made her defense ineffectual. Denna brought the butt of the gun down hard into Cara’s face. Her world exploded into light and pain. Then it went dark.
But not for long.
Cara woke up as she was being dragged by her legs through the front yard of the house that she had just fought Denna in. Two soldiers in blood red uniforms and full black face masks were holding her ankles. Her hands had been handcuffed behind her back. The back of her t-shirt had torn open and she could feel cuts and contusions from the rough handling. She caught sight of a hooded figure similarly bound being drug out of Kahlan’s house before she was tossed in the trunk of a black sedan.
They had Kahlan. And now she was really mad.
The trip in the trunk jostled her many wounds. Even for a woman that had been disemboweled at one point and generally enjoyed a good fight, the pain was becoming excruciating. Relief washed over her when the car ground to a stop and the trunk was popped open. Denna’s smiling face blocked Cara’s view of the starry night sky. “We’ve arrived, Cara. I hope you like it here.”
Roughly she lifted Cara out of the trunk and dropped her sprawling on the gravel. The car was parked on an empty stretch of gravel road, surrounded on all sides by trees. The smell of pine permeated the air. Before Cara could orient herself, Denna yanked her to her feet and forced her off the road and down into the trees. Not for away, there was a small clearing. Sticking out of the ground in the very center was a shovel.
“What the hell is your game?” Cara snarled, her voice slightly muffled by her broken nose.
“No game.” Denna unlocked Cara’s handcuffs, letting the metal manacles fall to the ground and then placed the barrel of her Agiel against the base of Cara’s skull. “Just dig your own grave.”
“This is going to be a bit slow.” Cara was frustrated how her voice cracked at the feeling of the weapon digging into her neck. She took measured steps from the edge of the clearing to the shovel and picked it up. She had to rely on her left hand more; her right one throbbed with the pain from her wrist which had begun to swell alarmingly.
“I’ve got all night. And do a nice job. I’d hate to think you’d have a sloppy resting place. You were always so precise,” Denna nearly whispered the words directly into Cara’s ear. Cara wished that she could punch the other woman, but the time was not right for retaliation. If she pretended to comply with Denna, at least for now, she could hope to come up with a reasonable escape plan. She had no intention of dying in the woods in a god-forsaken place like Montana. And she had no intention of being killed by fucking Denna. Never let yourself get executed by an ex, that was one of Cara’s mottos.
Digging hurt -- a lot -- But Cara never did anything half-assed, even digging her own grave. She worked for about an hour, digging several feet down to create a rectangular hole about six feet by three feet. Denna watched from several feet away, gun trained on Cara the entire time. She set her foot to the top of the shovel, preparing to cut down for another scoop of dirt when she heard the first noise. A rustling disturbed the underbrush in front of her. She swore she could see a shadow move.
She didn’t want to alert Denna, perhaps whatever was out there would provide the distraction she needed to finally finish the other woman off. Then she could climb in her car, and find wherever they took Kahlan, brutally murder her kidnappers and convince the brunette to forget that she had ever heard about anyone named Richard. She tossed the shovel-full of dirt onto the growing pile and bent back to her task.
Another twenty minutes went by, or so Cara calculated, without any more strange noises. She was about to chalk it up to a random animal when it happened again - a rustling and the faint movement of shadows, this time off a little to her right. Now she was certain, with the bone-deep knowledge of a natural warrior - Denna was being flanked from the trees.
Two more loads of dirt hit the pile before the first shot. Whoever was in the trees was using a silencer. Just the thrum of moving air warned of the lethal projectile’s approach. Denna was more alert than Cara had credited her for. She hit the ground, causing the bullet to miss its mark in the center of her forehead. Instead it grazed across her cheek, creating a blossom of angry red.
Cara seized her chance, spinning on her heels and swinging downward with the shovel at Denna’s prone form. The Mord-Sith rolled out of the way and Cara’s weapon thumped into the ground. Camouflaged figures burst from the treeline in every direction, closing in on the two women. Cara couldn’t care less, she was intent on some well deserved revenge. She brought her heel down sharply into Denna’s sternum before kicking her sharply in the side of the head. By the time the soldiers made it to her, Denna was out cold.
They were American soldiers, that much was immediately obvious from the equipment and cut of their uniforms, though they lacked insignia. The squad formed a loose circle around Cara and her fallen adversary. Presumably their leader, stepped forward, reaching up to peel his night vision goggles off and reveal his face.
“A pleasure to see you again, Miss Mason. You’ve looked better.” Richard Rahl tucked the goggles under one arm and put his other hand out to squeeze Cara’s shoulder. He was wearing one of his trademark ridiculously goofy grins - a little boy playing soldier, was what Cara had always pictured looking at him. Except he had a terrifying capacity for anger.
She reached up, running the back of her hand across her face, smearing the blood from her shattered nose. “Well, you’re late Cypher, or I’d be looking a hell of a lot prettier.”
“There was a kitten stuck in a tree. That’s why we got delayed.”
“I sure fucking hope you’re joking,” Cara snarled.
Richard just responded with his smile and turned back to his men. He quietly issued orders and the soldiers began to clean up. Two bound Denna while a third checked her vital signs. Certain that Denna wouldn’t die before she could be interrogated, the medic turned his attention to Cara. He shot her full of some kind of pain killer and splinted her wrist. She took it all quietly, watching Richard with hooded eyes as he talked on the radio. The medic circled her and gingerly pulled her shirt fragments out of the wounds on her back. On cue, Cara registered his sudden stillness followed by the quiet gasp he couldn’t quiet swallow. Most people reacted to the scarring along her back like that. Extensive cosmetic surgery had been performed to make her abdomen look smooth again after her unfortunate brush with death, but the lash marks that criss-crossed her back where a constant reminder of her oath of service. American soldiers weren’t trained the same way; she didn’t expect the medic to understand.
She didn’t say anything to assuage his discomfort and instead allowed him to work in awkward silence. Perversely, it made her feel better.
As the adrenaline drained away, the full magnitude of the situation encompassed Cara. She was in love with her best friend’s wife who had just been kidnapped in the middle of lust-fueled sexcapades on her kitchen table only to be rescued from certain death by said best friend. Her mind circled Kahlan, and a feeling akin to sickness and panic welled up in her chest. If Denna had ordered Kahlan to be hurt - she would personally kill the woman.
Richard finally turned back to Cara from his radio, face grim, as the medic finished up. “Did you get Kahlan?” The words exploded out of Cara. She hadn’t meant to ask so directly or sound so desperate.
“We missed them. The Air Force is tracking the flight right now, but they won’t be able to intercept it.”
“They’re taking her out of the country?” Cara’s heart dropped into her stomach. She knew just where Kahlan was going, and just what waited for her there.
The woman she loved was going to pay for her sins.
Sticking low to the ground and avoiding the windows, Kahlan crept through the house. Muscle memory led her safely around the furniture in the dark. The stairs creaked, but the sound was muffled compared to the sharp crack of bullets splintering the siding of her house. The continued hail of gunfire was actually comforting - their unseen attacker would not still be shooting if Cara were dead.
Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness by the time Kahlan made it to her room. The gun safe opened smoothly on well-oiled hinges. Kahlan grabbed the rifle and a box of bullets before sidling toward her window. It was her favorite view in the house, offering her the warm morning sun and a view of her well manicured lawn and the quiet main street of Aydindril with rolling hills behind. Now everything was eerily dark outside the window. The streetlights were still out. And where was Sheriff Brandstone? Their attacker was not being particularly quiet.
She settled her back against the wall and braced the rifle between her knees. It held ten shots in the magazine in the butt. Each bullet slid into place easily. Just like hunting quails, Kahlan assured herself, big blood-thirsty sniper quails. The rifle shots stopped and she could hear muffled yelling outside, though she couldn’t make out the words. Betting that their attacker was now distracted, she took the opportunity to raise the window sash and set the barrel of her weapon on the sill.
Where were they being sniped from? Close enough they could be carrying on a shouted conversation with Cara. Snipers always worked from a high point, at least in movies. There were two houses nearby, one on each side of the street. If the sniper were operating from a house, they were either on the roof or in an upper story window.
She glanced down, her eyes caught by movement in the front yard. A flash of blonde was dashing out of the bushes and toward the house on the left. Desperate to provide cover fire, Kahlan aimed at one dark window and squeezed the trigger. The glass exploded. Trying to calm her shaking hands, she ejected the empty shell and aimed at the next window. Another pane of glass shattered. There was no return fire.
She prepared for her next shot, tracking Cara as she crossed the sidewalk and threw her shoulder into the house’s door. Then she was gone. Kahlan didn’t want to accidentally catch Cara with a bullet. She had done what she could.
Blowing out a long, uneven breath she turned and slid her back down the wall until she was sitting on the floor again.
When had her life become some sort of Sapphic Call of Duty? She hit the safety on her rifle with her thumb. The phantom of Cara’s caresses was still on her heated skin. If anything, the danger and adrenaline had rekindled her arousal. She licked her lips, tasting Cara there. She was in a lot of trouble.
And then her bedroom door was kicked open and she was in even more trouble. Two women in blood red military uniforms, sporting night vision goggles and wielding wicked assault rifles, burst in. Before she could even lift her weapon, one of the soldiers was pressing a taser to her neck. Oblivion reached up and pulled her down into the darkness. Of course, wolves hunt in packs - the last thought that passed through her conscious mind.
***
Darkness surrounded her - a blackness so deep she despaired of ever clawing her way out. Panic seized her lungs. There wasn’t enough air. The world was closing in. She was being smothered by the lack of light. She tried to kick, to thrash and break out of it only to find that she was bound. Immobile. Slowly, slowly, her heart calmed. It was a hood over her face; she could detect the rough texture and the weight of the material. She was being jostled around as if in a car on a back road. Time lost meaning with no external markers by which to judge its passage. She was transferred roughly from the vehicle into another seat. She felt the pressure of take off. She must be in an airplane.
It didn’t take long, somewhere in the car, that she began to hallucinate. At first she had tried to keep her eyes closed behind the blindfold or mask, and concentrate on her breathing. She couldn’t, however, there was too much turmoil inside of her. With her eyes open, the absolute darkness wreaked havoc on her brain. Visions of Cara, mouth and chin wet from Kahlan’s arousal, gazing up the length of her nude body to make eye contact as she spiraled down from her climax tormented her. At first it was just Cara in her kitchen, kneeling in front of the table, like they had been right before they were rudely interrupted. But then it began to change - a new location with every permutation, as if Cara would be with her no matter where she was forever.
The pictures dancing before her blinded eyes were almost comforting, before they slowly were replaced by Richard. Richard looking disappointed. Richard shouting, maybe crying. Richard with an intense look of betrayal in his usually soft eyes. At least, the likelihood of her surviving this kidnapping seemed slight. She would never have to explain to Richard what she had done with his best friend. What she wanted to do again.
CHAPTER TWELVE: I want to reconcile the violence in your heart, I want to recognize your beauty is not just a mask
The interior of the house was eerily quiet. At first Cara wondered where the family that lived there had gone, but the sticky footprints that led up the stairs were a dead giveaway - literally. Cara expected nothing else from Denna. She adjusted her grip on the handle of the kitchen knife. Denna had undoubtedly tracked her movement into the house, even with Kahlan’s surprising cover fire. The Mord-Sith would be prepared, or had already made good her escape.
She didn’t bother to disguise the sound of her footsteps as she walked with a measured tread up the stairs. Let Denna hear how unafraid she was, how totally unaffected she had been by Denna’s assault. Denna had made no effort to cover her trail either. The bloody footsteps lead down the upper hallway and into the master bedroom, though what lay inside Cara couldn’t see since the door was firmly closed.
She paused, leaning her shoulder against the door frame and listening intently. No sound. She licked her lips, tightened her grip on the knife again and then spun, slamming the heel of her bare foot into the door just above the latch, sending it crashing off of its hinges. Splinters flew through the air as Cara dashed into the room, hoping to use the chaos as cover. There was a figure by the window, and Cara charged, knife slashing only to have her arm caught at the wrist. Denna snapped Cara’s wrist neatly, followed by an elbow to the face that sent her opponent sprawling, blood streaming from her broken nose.
“Shit, Denna,” Cara screamed in rage. She cradled her arm to her body, retreating to try to find a better footing and a new opportunity for attack. “Is that the way you greet all beautiful women?”
“Not so beautiful anymore,” Denna snorted. She was edging around Cara, moving to subtly block her exit.
“Matter of opinion,” Cara glanced back and forth between Denna and the knife where it had fallen on the floor. There was no sign of Denna’s sniper rifle. She must have broken it down and stowed it while she waited for Cara to arrive. Denna was always efficient and prone to showing more affection to her weapons then she did to her lovers. Cara had some firsthand knowledge. “Frankly I think blood red is my color.”
Denna reached behind her, smoothly unholstering her Agiel from its place nestled in the small of her back. She pointed the gun at Cara, aim unwavering. Cara visibly flinched. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have pissed on your uniform and walked away from your country.”
“Maybe,” Cara shrugged her good shoulder, feigning nonchalance. There was no way out. She could only hope now that Denna was interested in her, and not in Kahlan. Her mind was a whirl and there was a grinding sense of anxiety growing deep in her belly. If only Denna would lower the gun she would be able to regain her equilibrium.
“Don’t worry though, Cara, because I know just the thing we can do for you.” The smile that Denna flashed her nearly froze the blood in her veins. Denna was quick, one of the fastest Cara had ever seen in hand to hand combat. She tried to block the blow, but her injured wrist made her defense ineffectual. Denna brought the butt of the gun down hard into Cara’s face. Her world exploded into light and pain. Then it went dark.
But not for long.
Cara woke up as she was being dragged by her legs through the front yard of the house that she had just fought Denna in. Two soldiers in blood red uniforms and full black face masks were holding her ankles. Her hands had been handcuffed behind her back. The back of her t-shirt had torn open and she could feel cuts and contusions from the rough handling. She caught sight of a hooded figure similarly bound being drug out of Kahlan’s house before she was tossed in the trunk of a black sedan.
They had Kahlan. And now she was really mad.
The trip in the trunk jostled her many wounds. Even for a woman that had been disemboweled at one point and generally enjoyed a good fight, the pain was becoming excruciating. Relief washed over her when the car ground to a stop and the trunk was popped open. Denna’s smiling face blocked Cara’s view of the starry night sky. “We’ve arrived, Cara. I hope you like it here.”
Roughly she lifted Cara out of the trunk and dropped her sprawling on the gravel. The car was parked on an empty stretch of gravel road, surrounded on all sides by trees. The smell of pine permeated the air. Before Cara could orient herself, Denna yanked her to her feet and forced her off the road and down into the trees. Not for away, there was a small clearing. Sticking out of the ground in the very center was a shovel.
“What the hell is your game?” Cara snarled, her voice slightly muffled by her broken nose.
“No game.” Denna unlocked Cara’s handcuffs, letting the metal manacles fall to the ground and then placed the barrel of her Agiel against the base of Cara’s skull. “Just dig your own grave.”
“This is going to be a bit slow.” Cara was frustrated how her voice cracked at the feeling of the weapon digging into her neck. She took measured steps from the edge of the clearing to the shovel and picked it up. She had to rely on her left hand more; her right one throbbed with the pain from her wrist which had begun to swell alarmingly.
“I’ve got all night. And do a nice job. I’d hate to think you’d have a sloppy resting place. You were always so precise,” Denna nearly whispered the words directly into Cara’s ear. Cara wished that she could punch the other woman, but the time was not right for retaliation. If she pretended to comply with Denna, at least for now, she could hope to come up with a reasonable escape plan. She had no intention of dying in the woods in a god-forsaken place like Montana. And she had no intention of being killed by fucking Denna. Never let yourself get executed by an ex, that was one of Cara’s mottos.
Digging hurt -- a lot -- But Cara never did anything half-assed, even digging her own grave. She worked for about an hour, digging several feet down to create a rectangular hole about six feet by three feet. Denna watched from several feet away, gun trained on Cara the entire time. She set her foot to the top of the shovel, preparing to cut down for another scoop of dirt when she heard the first noise. A rustling disturbed the underbrush in front of her. She swore she could see a shadow move.
She didn’t want to alert Denna, perhaps whatever was out there would provide the distraction she needed to finally finish the other woman off. Then she could climb in her car, and find wherever they took Kahlan, brutally murder her kidnappers and convince the brunette to forget that she had ever heard about anyone named Richard. She tossed the shovel-full of dirt onto the growing pile and bent back to her task.
Another twenty minutes went by, or so Cara calculated, without any more strange noises. She was about to chalk it up to a random animal when it happened again - a rustling and the faint movement of shadows, this time off a little to her right. Now she was certain, with the bone-deep knowledge of a natural warrior - Denna was being flanked from the trees.
Two more loads of dirt hit the pile before the first shot. Whoever was in the trees was using a silencer. Just the thrum of moving air warned of the lethal projectile’s approach. Denna was more alert than Cara had credited her for. She hit the ground, causing the bullet to miss its mark in the center of her forehead. Instead it grazed across her cheek, creating a blossom of angry red.
Cara seized her chance, spinning on her heels and swinging downward with the shovel at Denna’s prone form. The Mord-Sith rolled out of the way and Cara’s weapon thumped into the ground. Camouflaged figures burst from the treeline in every direction, closing in on the two women. Cara couldn’t care less, she was intent on some well deserved revenge. She brought her heel down sharply into Denna’s sternum before kicking her sharply in the side of the head. By the time the soldiers made it to her, Denna was out cold.
They were American soldiers, that much was immediately obvious from the equipment and cut of their uniforms, though they lacked insignia. The squad formed a loose circle around Cara and her fallen adversary. Presumably their leader, stepped forward, reaching up to peel his night vision goggles off and reveal his face.
“A pleasure to see you again, Miss Mason. You’ve looked better.” Richard Rahl tucked the goggles under one arm and put his other hand out to squeeze Cara’s shoulder. He was wearing one of his trademark ridiculously goofy grins - a little boy playing soldier, was what Cara had always pictured looking at him. Except he had a terrifying capacity for anger.
She reached up, running the back of her hand across her face, smearing the blood from her shattered nose. “Well, you’re late Cypher, or I’d be looking a hell of a lot prettier.”
“There was a kitten stuck in a tree. That’s why we got delayed.”
“I sure fucking hope you’re joking,” Cara snarled.
Richard just responded with his smile and turned back to his men. He quietly issued orders and the soldiers began to clean up. Two bound Denna while a third checked her vital signs. Certain that Denna wouldn’t die before she could be interrogated, the medic turned his attention to Cara. He shot her full of some kind of pain killer and splinted her wrist. She took it all quietly, watching Richard with hooded eyes as he talked on the radio. The medic circled her and gingerly pulled her shirt fragments out of the wounds on her back. On cue, Cara registered his sudden stillness followed by the quiet gasp he couldn’t quiet swallow. Most people reacted to the scarring along her back like that. Extensive cosmetic surgery had been performed to make her abdomen look smooth again after her unfortunate brush with death, but the lash marks that criss-crossed her back where a constant reminder of her oath of service. American soldiers weren’t trained the same way; she didn’t expect the medic to understand.
She didn’t say anything to assuage his discomfort and instead allowed him to work in awkward silence. Perversely, it made her feel better.
As the adrenaline drained away, the full magnitude of the situation encompassed Cara. She was in love with her best friend’s wife who had just been kidnapped in the middle of lust-fueled sexcapades on her kitchen table only to be rescued from certain death by said best friend. Her mind circled Kahlan, and a feeling akin to sickness and panic welled up in her chest. If Denna had ordered Kahlan to be hurt - she would personally kill the woman.
Richard finally turned back to Cara from his radio, face grim, as the medic finished up. “Did you get Kahlan?” The words exploded out of Cara. She hadn’t meant to ask so directly or sound so desperate.
“We missed them. The Air Force is tracking the flight right now, but they won’t be able to intercept it.”
“They’re taking her out of the country?” Cara’s heart dropped into her stomach. She knew just where Kahlan was going, and just what waited for her there.
The woman she loved was going to pay for her sins.