The image before me just seemed inconsistent with what my ears were hearing.All that changed when Marilyn sent over to me, "Will, Spirits send out wha... 'They' want you to see but you can change that image to suit yourself and see them as 'You' want to see them."My head spun a little as I tried to figure out exactly what was happening. I questioned my own thinking. Was Sara actually dressed as I'd seen her or was I projecting what I expected or wanted to see.Sara answered that question herself. Storm Who Walks told Bobby that the only chance he had to win the upcoming battle was to adopt Indian tactics of hit and run. The one maxim to keep uppermost in his mind was that if he had to choose between shooting a man or shooting his horse, Bobby should always shoot the horse. A Comanche without his horse was already half defeated, so killing the horses was his number one priority.Storm Who Walks drummed into Bobby that his pistol was not going to do him much good beyond 10 yards, any shot. . Stopped. She mourned the loss, and told herself that maybe it was for the best. But still, she longed for them in a nostalgic way. He had told her that she was beautiful. Something she doubted about herself due to her ever constant battle with weight. "I like women with curves," he had stated. She didn't doubt him for a moment. But still, she missed their chats.A few weeks without contact turned into months, and then a few years. Then one day, she saw a message from him in her in-box. "I've. ..” What else dare she say? Certain punishment awaited any denial. “Move away, slave,” said Flavia. “You smell of male sweat.” Xena moved away. Crawling. She felt exhausted; totally dirtied and degraded. She had been mocked and derided by the assembled company. She had sucked and been fucked. Treated like an object rather than a human being. She had been savagely flogged. The pain was incessant. Indeed, Xena now realised that pain was going to be a permanent part of her existence. Ahead lay a.