Jocelyn never felt as much weakness and despair as her dress was torn apart - no matter how she resisted, she could not fight off the wiry hands of her assailants that pressed down onto her like a mountain. Her hands were bound, and a dirty rag was stuffed into her mouth to halt her cries for help. Jocelyn desperately looked around - but no help was arriving. They were in the middle of the wilderness, away from any knights or men at arms...