Karl asked her if she was okay, and she realized that the adrenaline and thrill of the action cleared her busy mind with a flash of intense clarity.  She nodded and switched the rock to her right hand.  She lifted her left leg hard and fast, clashing with breasts, and getting her right hand back for the hardest she could throw.  Her front leg came down a fraction before the rock left her hand.

Karl saw the man poorly running and didn’t have the immediate energy to race after him in the loose dirt.  He turned to say something to Okake and noticed the particular wind up she was doing.  Just about the time he was going to ask what she was up to, the rock left her hand and was too fast to follow, but the crack that followed the release made him follow the sound.  He looked over at the stumbling man as he fell face forward into the dirt.  He looked back to her as she stood up straight and putting her hands on her hips.  

Okake evaluated her work and waited for the adrenaline to subside and the dark thoughts to return which they always seemed to do unless she and Karl were trying to please each other or a task that was so complex that it occupied all her thoughts.  

The adrenaline seemed to be staying because her thoughts were clear.  She walked over to Karl, and they turned to each of the men.

The first man lay on his back gasping like a fish out of water.  Karl looked at Okake, her face contorted with rage, and put his short sword in his hands with the hilt toward her and bowed, presenting it to her.  She shook her head and looked around on the ground until she found another rock.  

She kneeled and looked at the man’s face hoping to see fear or some form of emotion that she could enjoy, but only found a pale face with bluish lips.  She took her rock and repeatedly pounded it to his face, reducing it to paste while blood and eventually all fluids splashed across her arm, chest and face.  

She stood and looked at the other two.  She next went to the man with one hand.  She slapped him until his eyes seemed to return to their correct orbits.  He groaned.  

“Oh, this is good.”  She immediately started punching his crotch over and over with all her might.  The man screamed for a bit and tried to turn which led to her starting on his face.  After she tired of that she stood and stomped on his face over and over until blood splashed up her leg.  

Karl was inwardly wincing, but he understood the reason and the mechanism for relief.  There were damn few times in the world where this kind of thing could be worked out, so he was glad for her, but it certainly was brutal to watch.  

Okake stopped and said, “this one liked to hit me over and over and then take me in the mouth”.

Karl groaned.  He’d seen terrible things on the field of battle.  After the conflict was over men would take anything, they could.  That was not his thing and he often felt shame for his cohort. These men would have been like those.  Never knowing what loving congress was like.  Only pain mixed with their taking of another would work.

He looked at Okake once again and felt a stab of horror at what happened to her, but also with some pride that she was able to overcome so much.    

She went over to the first man she hit with a rock.  He was still addled, and she stood watching him.  Karl wondered what kind of judgment he would receive. In the end she asked for his sword.  With a quick swing she sliced through the man’s neck where blood slightly spurted, followed by some gurgling.  She slammed her left leg up to her chest so hard that it made a loud slap and then drove her foot down on his skull.  The head collapsed and brains shot out wherever there was space.   

She walked over to the last man and watched. Karl continued to follow her closely, but not making a comment.  

Okake ran through their faces over and over.  This one and the first one liked to take her as a man.  When she was first captured, she was in a constant state of dread of when this would happen.  And when they started, they never seemed to end.  After a period of time, she just drew into herself.  When she no longer screamed or cursed them, they kicked her and punched her.  She honestly could not remember how long she was in their captivity and that disturbed her.  Orc physiology allowed her to go without food and water for a very long time.  Months?  Years?  That didn’t seem feasible.  

The last man was crawling away.  His helmet had saved him from the thrown rock, but it now lay farther away.  She pulled his weapons away and tossed them aside.

“Karl, this is the last of the sickness.”  Her gray eyes red from heat, anger, rage, and retribution. 

“Come on,” she said to the man, “let’s get you up.”

Pulling him up she grabbed him by the neck and by the groin and hoisted him in the air while he managed enough energy to scream wildly and wiggle around.  And then she brought him down while she deftly went to a bent knee position and slammed mid body across her thigh.  A mighty crack split the air and his movements got less and less.  She looked at Karl and nodded at the man.  Karl leaned over and slit the neck from ear to ear.  

“More blood to feed the sandy soil,” he thought.  

He turned to look at the carnage and Okake started screaming.  Loud, inarticulate howling.  So loud that it hurt his ears.  Every intake of breath led to another scream.  Slightly bent over, her fist curled into balls, veins in her neck standing out.  After doing this for a minute or so she looked at Karl.