Mito did her best to stay limp; she was afraid of what would happen if they knew she was conscious. One of the men had her tiny body flung over his shoulder, and his arms around her upper thighs. She wondered what they intended of her. Her worries heightened as the men turned away from the village and towards the open forrest. She shut her eyes, and suddenly wished she had a notion of intervening gods, no matter the validity, to comfort her.
When she felt the wet, cushy forrest floor beneath her, she opened her eyes, but realized they were of no use in the dismal dark she found herself in. But soon her eyes began to adjust. All around her reached something tall and ancient, with a rock covering an opening. An exit, she noted to herself. She felt the back of her dress, damp, clinging to her skin. she was leaning against something uneven and textured which gave under mild force. As her vision cleared further, the notion of where she was, an idea always just far enough away that it was fully obscured by the fog suddenly focused. She lay in an immense, hollowed out tree.
But a sound, though inaudible, waded into her consciousness, and slowly made its appearance. Breathing. Coming from her left and right. Then, she felt a large, calloused hand creep slowly beneath the hem of her skirt. She shrieked.