Indian Squirting

Fading into a blur of fata morga like twirls near the horizon. Absolutely nothing else was to be seen! There were no birds singing, no wind was blowing through tree leaves. Just sand. And more sand. A yellow-orange frozen ocean. The tranquillity and unworldly perfection of it all, made it look like a surrealist painting. A dream, after all?"What the water is to Alcatraz, the sand is to Al-Qae-Traz."The sound of the sharp voice behind her startled Anna, and she quickly turned around."I see our young lady is already up and running!"Through the only door in the room, a man had entered. He reminded Anna of some kind of pasha; a slim, tall figure wrapped in a heavy-looking long gown. On his head he was wearing a huge turban. He had black hair, tanned skin and a goat-beard. And didn't look particularly friendly, Anna thought... Nevertheless the mystery man made a deep bow for her.Although more memories were coming back all the time, Anna's mind was still in the process of putting. An arrow protruded from his throat. The villagers that had been milling about various vendors screamed and shouted. Some ran around haphazardly, others darted behind trees, and carts. Another arrow sailed through the air, striking the second guard. He pulled a knife from his boot thrust it toward Gilraen, who took it. ‘Run!’ he shouted before an arrow penetrated his skull. The Princess scrambled to her feet, her gown and cloak hindering her swiftness. She cursed, as fear coursed through her veins. She ran several feet before an arm wrapped tight around her waist and hauled her back. A screamed was ripped from her lungs, as she took the knife and stabbed it repeatedly into the arm. Its tip did little damage to the thick leather hide that covered the attacker’s beefy muscles. He pulled her into the woods. Gilraen kicked and thrashed. She felt panic growing and knew that without a doubt her mother’s loyal followers were still deep within her walls. ‘Vile wench,’ the kidnapper cursed,.
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