Thoria is walking along a path, before he comes across a donkey. She had been hurt in ways that Thoria had never seen before. He couldn’t believe his eyes.
So much pain she had been through. So much agonizing tenderness. Thoria could barely stand the sight of her. Yet he had to take her with him. The price he paid for her was equal to that of a well cared for thoroughbred stallion. Nevertheless, he could no more leave her there than he could kill himself.
He nursed her well, and she was soon able-bodied. He kept her with him, but thought no more of her than a tool to satisfy his needs. Slowly it built in her. A feeling she had never known. A feeling that kept her alive. The hatred of him using her, when he knew how much she loved him. How dare he do this to her, didn’t he care that he was hurting her more than her masters cat-o-nine? Emotionally, she could barely stay afloat on the sea that is life.
That night after he had abused her, she killed him. Why? If she loved him so much, why would she hurt him so? What did he take from her that was so special?