Snippet #1812779

No answer. He heard no movement inside.

The horse made known its feelings. Mahdi spared a glance over his shoulders, wondering if others could hear the horses racket. He saw nothing that gave him cause to panic, but he would not tarry in any instance. He thudded the door again, and again the horse trumpeted its displeasure. No answer. Impatient, Mahdi moved towards one of the windows. Thick swathes of fabric hung over it, obscuring his vision, but his keen eyes cut the shadows within. He could see no-one inside. He shifted his gaze. On a surface he could see a pestle, the mortar discarded beside it. Something was smeared across the end, crushed against it. Mahdi raised his nose and inhaled. Wolfsbane.

A sinking feeling settled in his stomach.

With no further thought for courtesy he tried the vardos doorhandle. It gave. The large man stopped slightly to enter the tiny wagon, grunting his irritation in unison to the tethered horse. Mahdi stopped. A woman was sprawled on the ground, head twisted in a way that suggested she wasn't simply sleeping. Mahdi approached, taking to one knee beside her body. She was pale, sweating lightly despite the chill than sunk into the vardo. He pressed a hand to her throat. A faint throb. His fingers retreated, damp with perspiration. Cautiously he stroked away the hair from her face and studied her features. A pretty girl, if plain to the eye. Perhaps he was unfair. She was not her best, he expected.

Mahdi stood, bumping his head on the vardos ceiling. With a grunt he cursed the cramped wooden box, and turned towards the womans cuboards. A jug of water rested on the surface, half emptied. An indication of the situation, perhaps. Perhaps not. He dipped a swathe of bright fabric into the water - he doubted Ileana, if it was her, would mind - and then draped it over her forehead.

He took one knee again. "Paprika," he confirmed. "Do you hear my voice, girl?"