Sonja the Rescuer
by Seldom (seldomlasts@yahoo.com)
John is kidnapped. Blood, gore, senseless and excessive violence.


***** AUTHOR'S NOTE *****

This is the second Sonja story I have written. I enjoy writing these
stories and I hope you enjoy reading them. If you do, please send me an
e-mail to let me know. Stroke my fragile ego.

Many thanks to those of you who sent your suggestions for this
installment.

* * * * *

The giant redhead barely glanced up as John came panting over the rocks.
He saw her equipment lying on the ground and collapsed.

A ghost of a grin crossed Sonja's face for a fleeting second. She turned
away and began collecting firewood, quickly building a large campfire.
She left it unlit and went to kneel beside John.

The small boy felt her imposing presence next to him and opened his
eyes. He saw her looking down at him and instantly scrabbled to his
knees, bowing to his mistress. She reached down and put a finger under
his bowed head, lifting his chin to look up at her. He trembled at her
touch. Her hands were streaked with blood from George's horrible death.

Sonja ran rough fingers over John's pretty-boy features, trailing her
thumb slowly over his shivering lips. She brought her large head down to
his and pressed her thick moist lips against his forehead. She extended
her long tongue and licked him. The powerful movement of her unstoppable
tongue forced his head back and left a trail of saliva on his face. John
made no move to wipe it up.

The giant redhead lifted her armor-plated battle-skirt, revealing her
dripping pussy, damp and sweaty after a day of traveling. With one
muscular arm she easily pulled his head into her enormous crotch. Not
clean and cool like last night, now her pussy was wet, musky, sweaty,
and hot. John, scared and shaking, put his hands on her giant genitalia
and rubbed. Sonja grinned and relaxed, letting John please her with his
hands and tongue for an hour. Whenever he tired and slowed, she squeezed
his head warningly. Each time she squeezed he renewed his licking in a
terrified frenzy, knowing she could easily crush his skull with one
hand. After an hour she released him from the hot confines of her pussy
and lit the fire. John knelt before her, his face covered in her sweat
and sticky cum. She ignored her slave as she turned to prepare supper.

"Please, Mistress Sonja, let me prepare your dinner," John said in a
trembling, frightened voice. He knew it was presumptuous of him to speak
without being spoken to, but he had not heard his mistress utter one
word. As far as he knew, from legends and rumours, no one had ever heard
her speak.

Sonja turned to her slave in surprise, one red eyebrow raised. "That is,
if you want me to," John said in barely a whisper.

Sonja nodded curtly and settled her huge bulk next to the fire, content
to watch the sunset while John cooked dinner from the deer Sonja had
skewered during the day.

It had been magnificent. Sonja spotted the deer grazing several hundred
yards away and had put up her hand. John instantly stopped. She drew her
sword and charged, legs as long as a man was tall carrying her faster
than any mere mortal. Even the deer could not hope to outrun her. It
tried to dodge but Sonja was faster, whirling her giant body around with
impossible speed and grace and neatly piercing the animal through the
head.

John thought about all he had seen in the last day as he skinned the
carcass. He held his mistress in awe, totally frightened of her yet
completely devoted to her. She had not shown the least bit of malice or
sadism toward him, as the tales suggested she might. Nor had she shown
any warmth or compassion, either. He thought she must be a goddess, or
at the very least a demigod, to hold those below her in such disregard.

After he managed to get the large animal roasting over the bonfire,
Sonja finally stood. She reached into her belt and withdrew a long
blade. It looked like a knife in her hands, so it took John a moment to
recognize it as a sword. She held it out to him. He took it, looking at
her with a confused expression.

She held up her hand and gestured for him to swipe at it. He stared at
her in confusion. She gestured again.

"No, I can't do that," John said in a scared voice.

Sonja roared and roughly cuffed John, knocking him flying several feet
until he smashed into the ground. He felt like he'd just been hit by a
battering ram. She stalked over to him angrily and he shrunk from her
displeased glare, sure she would crush the life out of him. Instead she
yanked the sword out of his hand and, holding the hilt in one hand,
rammed the point into her open palm.

The sword bowed briefly before shattering. John gasped. Sonja looked
down at him, the anger leaving her face to be replaced with something
like humor. She helped her slave to his feet and offered him another
sword. She had them placed like daggers around her waist. This time when
she gestured at her hand John took a weak swing at it. The blade bounced
off her fingers.

Sonja smiled fiercely down at John. She gestured for him to attack
again, and again. She had him lunge at her hand, hitting specific
fingers, then swipe at it in various patterns. John's arms ached from
the day's hard journey and from holding the heavy sword, but he dared
not quit for fear of angering his mistress again. His arms trembled with
fatigue as she goaded him into attacking her hand over and over. Finally
he could not even lift the sword and collapsed to the ground in
exhaustion.

Sonja handed him a leg of venison which he gratefully accepted and ate.
She finished the rest of the deer and put out the fire with her bare
foot. She lay down and gestured for John to join her. She let him curl
up with her arm around him and they fell asleep.

* * * * *

John woke before the sun rose. He carefully escaped Sonja's warm
muscular embrace and stretched, surprised to find that despite
yesterday's exertions he felt awake and fully rested. He looked at his
sleeping mistress. She was voluptuous and beautiful and terrifying,
covered with enormous steely muscles and with a reputation for unmatched
brutality. But ignoring her body (not easy to do, considering its sheer
size), her face was actually quite lovely. He was mesmerized by the
almost gentle sight of her pretty oversized face as she quietly
breathed. With her eyes closed her expression softened, no longer
challenging and fierce, but peaceful. John crept up to her face and
placed one trembling hand on her cheek, an awed worshipful expression on
his face. Sonja muttered something unintelligable and nuzzled John's
hand with her cheek before rolling away from him.

The small servant-boy checked his meager savings and thought he had just
enough for what he planned to do. He had worked in an inn, had heard the
moans emanating from behind closed doors, had even watched once or
twice. He knew what it looked like to please a woman, and knew he was
missing something with Sonja. He was totally devoted to her and wanted
to please her in any way he could. Twice now she had played with him and
he had tried to give her something in return. The first time he had
massaged her with hot oils and slow devotion, and she seemed to
appreciate it. Now he wanted to give her something more.

He had also seen men come and go with prostitutes, and though only
thirteen, he knew what was going on. He was determined to find out what
he was doing wrong.

So, trembling, fearful of what Sonja would do to him if she caught him,
knowing she might kill him upon his return, yet determined to find out
the secret of pleasing her, John set out for the town several miles
beyond where they camped. He reached it just as the sun was rising and
followed a few furtive men to the town brothel, which was heating up its
morning business. The few more attractive young ladies quickly
disappeared, but John wasn't looking for them anyway. He finally saw
what he was looking for, an older prostitute, who looked bored and
weary.

"Excuse me," John said hesitantly. The woman squinted down at him and
paled. She tried to turn but John caught her arm. "Please, miss," he
said.

She turned back to him. "Yer Sonja's boy, ain't ye? Ain't touchin' ye,
bloody great giant rip me a'two. Git gone wit yer, boy!" she commanded.

News travels fast, John thought to himself. "No, wait, please," he said.
"I don't want to, um, I just want information. Please," he added
earnestly, "I have some money."

The old prostitute regarded him warily, her eyes darting between the
small number of coins in his bag and his pleading face. "All right, come
in, boy, but it be askin and not fuckin or git ye gone!" she finally
decided, leading him into her hovel.

John followed her in. He touched a faded portrait of a beautiful young
woman propped on a worm-eaten dresser. "Who's this?" he asked.

The old woman snatched the picture off the dresser and roughly slammed
it face down. "That war me as a lass, boy, but no more, no more. Just
good for cheap fuckin now, me is. All's a young widow good far, ain't
that right, boy?"

"N-no, I don't think so," John stuttered. "You were beautiful."

The woman snorted. "Fat lot of good it is, beauty. Didn't keep men's
hands off me, nor keep me husband alive neither godresthissoul. So ask
yer questions and be on yer way boy, ah've got better things for me time
than answerin to Sonja's property."

"I want to know how to please her," John said in a rush.

The old woman cocked her head at him. "Not usually what a man needs wit
a whore, boy," she said. She thought for a moment. "Alright, boy, let's
see yer money," she finally said. John handed her all the money he'd
managed to save during his time as a servant at the inn. The old lady
clucked at the small number of coins. "Damn cheap whore, me is," she
said disapprovingly.

"It's all I have," John said apologetically.

She suddenly grinned at him. He shrunk back in fright. "No matter, no
matter," she said. "Fuckin's expensive, talkin's cheap. So hear me talk
for yer money, boy." She settled herself into a ratty old chair and John
did the same.

"Well now yer Sonja's a special girly, ain't she," the prostitute mused.
"Big lass, that. How big she?" John waved at the ceiling. The old lady
grunted. "Tall anyways. Never seen her meself, but hear she all muscly
like a man. That right?"

"I've never seen a man as muscular as her. And she's definitely a
woman," John said indignantly.

"Aye some spark in ye!" the woman cackled amusedly. "Ye like the lass!
Good for pleasin, the likin is." John blushed. "Pretty boy," she said
dreamily, looking at John. "Very pretty, boy. She pretty as you, boy?
Ah, quit yer blushin, it's girly. Ain't fit for Sonja's slave, less she
likes girls. Eh, does she?"

"I, I, I don't know," John admitted.

"Well ya ain't no girl, is ye." The wrinkled old prostitute leaned in
conspiratorially. "The women, they pays better, they do," she whispered
and laughed delightedly at John's discomfort. "Nice as ye are, boy,
can't sit around chattin all day. Should teach ya bout a woman, I guess.
Ya seen her parts, boy?" she asked.

"Yes," John said with a fierce blush.

"Good," the woman grunted. "Makes this easier." She pulled her dress off
and was suddenly naked. John's eyes widened. "Yeah I'm old," she
chuckled, thwacking one sagging breast. "Wot becomes a beauty, eh boy?
Anyway," she continued, spreading her legs to reveal a shaven crotch,
"this here's wot's called labia." And she walked him through the parts
of a woman's body, showing him, urging him to touch, teaching him the
ways of pleasing a woman, explaining what was different and what was the
same about each woman. He lost track of time as together they explored
her genitals, like an old dry miniature of the huge, dripping, fleshy
pink parts he had seen on Sonja. The old woman, for her part, forgot
that she was an old woman, a wrinkled unsuccessful old prostitute, and
enjoyed the company of the pretty boy as he tried to please her with his
hands, and, eventually, his tongue. He was not repulsed by her or
hesitant, for he saw what he was doing as his duty to his mistress, and
he did not hesitate in his duties for Sonja.

The brittle wooden door to the little hovel exploded inward and four men
in armor entered. John recognized Abrams from the king's court as one of
the men roughly grabbed him. Abrams fixed him with a cold sneer.

"Arrest the boy, kill the whore," Abrams commanded.

The soldier holding the old woman started. "But sir," he protested, "she
hasn't committed a crime."

Abrams stared at the soldier angrily. "Harboring a fugitive," he finally
snarled, plunging his blade into the prostitute's heart.

The old woman's eyes turned to John as he stared in horror at the blood
spurting from her chest. She looked around in confusion for an instant
before her face contorted in agony and she collapsed to the floor.

* * * * *

Sonja watched the lunch rush from the corner. Tavern customers would
enter, stare at her in awe and fright, buy their lunch, and either sit
at a table casting furtive glances or hurriedly rush out the door. For
her part, Sonja just sat drinking and eating, unconcerned with those
around her.

She was disappointed when she woke and John was nowhere to be seen. She
assumed he ran away. She had no plans to go after him; if he wanted to
be free, she saw no reason to stop him. Travelling with her was hard and
dangerous; she could understand if he wanted to leave.

Sonja noticed a poor half-starved little girl staring hungrily up at
her. She paused with a huge sandwich on its way to her waiting mouth.
She looked around curiously. Nobody seemed to be paying any attention.
She looked down at the girl and grunted quietly. The girl took a step
closer. Sonja suddenly grinned at the girl's fearlessness. She tore off
a great hunk of bread and handed it to the girl, who took it and
instantly began gnawing on it.

"You're Sonja, aren't you?" the girl asked between mouthfuls. Sonja
nodded. "Is it true that you're a princess?" Sonja nodded again. "My
mommy says that princesses live in castles and aren't supposed to go
around fighting. But you know what? I think you're great. You're my
favorite princess."

Sonja cocked her head and stared down at this curious child. No one had
been this bold with her in quite a long time. She was used to fear and
awe, but very rarely admiration, and rarer still, adoration.

"Sarah!" a thin man called out in a frightened voice. The girl turned to
him. "Come here! Stop bothering her!" he said, casting terrified glances
at Sonja. The little girl turned back to Sonja and looked fearlessly
into her deep green eyes. Sonja nodded, a faint smile tugging at her
lips.

"Princess Sonja, I'm Sarah Yates Ingbar. Very nice to meet you," the
girl said seriously, curtsying. Sonja held out her hand. The girl placed
her hand in Sonja's huge palm, looking up curiously. Sonja dropped a
large gold coin into the girl's hand.

The girl gasped. The gold could feed her family for a week. All her
careful seriousness left her as she squealed delightedly. "Oh thank you
Sonja! You'll always be my favorite!" she said, wrapping her thin little
arms tightly around Sonja's bulging, thickly muscled forearm. She ran
off to her father with the gold coin held in front of her. The father
looked at Sonja, but she was gazing at the wall, already off in her own
world.

As she finished her lunch a young man ran into the tavern. He spotted
Sonja and hesitantly approached her, trembling in fear.

"S-Sonja?" he asked in a quavering voice. She waited expectantly. "It's
Sir Abrams, Miss, he's, well, he's arrested your servant-boy. He took
him to the prison in Trabery. He's, he's put out a warrant for your
arrest as well. He's gone mad!" It was obvious he didn't want to be the
messenger, but the thought of what Sonja or Abrams would do to him and
his family if he didn't deliver the threat terrified him more.

Running away was one thing, but nobody stole from Sonja. Not for long,
anyway. Sonja roared and slammed her huge fist down on the table,
shattering the oak tabletop. The frightened messenger fainted as the
decimated table rained splinters on him. Sonja stood growling
menacingly. Without a backwards or sideways glance she strode out of the
tavern in a rage. Her lips twisted in a snarl, betraying her suddenly
foul mood. She lifted an old oak table with one hand and tossed it
aside. It narrowly missed several scrambling patrons before shattering
against a wall. Sonja was mad now, royally pissed off. Thick rippling
arms and massive thighs cleared their way through the crowded noon-day
streets, huge booted feet kicking aside carts and goods as Sonja flung
peasants too slow to stampede out of her way, their bodies slamming
against walls with bone-jarring force. She hurled anybody stupid or slow
enough to remain in her path until she had a clear shot at the highway.
The villagers sobbed and screamed and ran away as she snarled past them.

Sonja left the town confused and battered in her wake, a brutal reminder
of why it was unwise to irritate her. The town's peasants were relieved
they were not the object of her wrath, or the painful and destructive
noontime would have been a gory slaughter.

The enraged warrior giantess strode determinedly toward Trabery Prison,
an old stone fortress constructed in a more prosperous age. The prison
was several hours' ride away from the center of Larin. Sonja's tireless
legs ate up the distance until she stood before the fortress in the
early evening. Her rage was still in full force, blood pounding in her
ears, fresh blood dripping down her hands, chest armor, skirt and
leggings from unwary soldiers unlucky enough to encounter her on the
road.

Sonja's superhumanly acute hearing picked up a faint rustling from some
nearby bushes.  She reached in and pulled out a scout from the prison
garrison. He squirmed and screamed out a warning. The monstrous redhead
gruesomely silenced him by tearing his throat out. She dropped his
twitching body to the ground to slowly bleed to death in horrible agony.

The alarm had been raised within the prison. The heavy iron gates
slammed down and idling men suddenly became alert. Archers posted at the
towers notched arrows.

Sonja grinned fiercely and waded into battle. Bows twanged as arrows let
fly at the enormous muscular target. Flint and steel tips glanced off
her leather armor and tough skin. An arrow embedded itself into her deep
cleavage, her massive breasts quivering slightly in response to the
harmless impact. Sonja grabbed the fletched end and yanked it out. She
looked up at a manned tower and flung the arrow at it. Her tremendous
strength propelled the arrow straight through the chest of one bowman
and the head of the reloader behind him. The arrow continued sailing far
into the air and out of sight. The archer fell out of the tower gurgling
blood and splattered onto the ground. Sonja licked her lips and briefly
rubbed her dripping crotch with two thick fingers before continuing
forward through the hail of useless arrows.

The warrior giantess paused before the two-ton steel grate fronting the
massive steel-shielded heavy oak gate. The rain of arrows had stopped as
the prison guard, fortified with military troops, waited inside,
frightened. Sonja reached forward and grasped the grating, enormous
muscles leaping from her arms and bulging forearms as she slowly drew
her arms apart. Thick jagged veins popped out of her skin as the metal
creaked and groaned under the strain. One by one the iron bars stretched
and snapped with loud clangs as Sonja wrenched a gaping hole in the
grate. Next came the door. She clenched a fist as large as a watermelon
and threw a mighty punch at the door. The steel shielding clanged and
when she removed her fist there was a huge dent. She punched again. The
steel yielded to her flesh and wood splintered. She battered the door
again and her fist plowed through the foot-thick door. Sonja barely felt
the pricks as men attempted to hack at her fist. Again and again she
battered at the door until the splintered wood could no longer support
its own weight and collapsed, torn from its hinges.

With a delighted roar Sonja charged in and unleashed gory slaughter. She
picked up a soldier in each hand and crashed their skulls together,
splattering their brains over her huge hands and several other charging
soldiers. She picked up a prison guard and simply stuffed him into her
massive bosom, letting her heaving breasts and rippling pecs grind his
bones to powder as she twisted around and threw three more guards into
the stone wall. This time she didn't pull her throws and the men's
bodies broke with sickening wet crunches. Sonja dipped her hand into the
gory froth in her bosom and licked the blood from her hand, giving the
frightened guards a terrifying smile. Archers held their arrows for fear
of hitting their charging companions. Sonja flicked daggers with
unerring accuracy, pinning each sword-sized dagger neatly through the
skull of the remaining archers.

Sonja unsheathed her sword and hacked it through four charging men. The
blade didn't slow as it cleaved each man in two. One terrified man
changed his mind and attempted to run away. Sonja stabbed him through
the back. He looked down in horror at the huge blade protruding from his
stomach before Sonja lifted the sword. The twitching man slid down the
blade until his back rested on its hilt. Sonja grinned and licked his
dripping entrails from the blade. She leaned over the gurgling, spasming
body and gave his bloody mouth a kiss, shoving her tongue far down his
throat and savoring the sweet, salty blood. She was reminded of her
hunger from the day of traveling and grabbed a shaking soldier. She bit
off his head and chewed his crunchy skull, swallowing it loudly and
grinning at the sickened prison guards. She lifted his body and drank
from the blood and guts spilling from his neck, squeezing the guts out
of his body like a tube of paste. Several men vomited. Sonja brought her
sword up, the corpse still resting on its hilt, ready for more battle.

"Wait, wait, please wait!" A portly older uniformed man ran from behind
a line of prison guards. They tried to stop him but he shook them off
and knelt before Sonja. The giant redhead paused and lowered her sword,
letting the drained corpse thump to the ground next to the brave man,
who paled and swallowed his bile. Sonja moved the tip of her sword under
the prostate man's chin and forced him to his feet. He looked far up at
her questioning, blood-splattered face.

The trembling man spoke. "Mistress Sonja, I am the warden of Trabery
Prison. We surrender. Please, we're just prison guards, not soldiers!
Abrams and his men are inside! Please let us live!"

Sonja pondered for a moment. She raised one eyebrow and gestured at the
inner fortress. The warden understood. "Abrams is inside with his
prisoner. I'll show you where he is! If that's acceptible to you, I
mean," he added hastily.

Sonja was vaguely disappointed at having her playtime interrupted but
reluctantly nodded and sheathed her sword. Terrified men parted before
them as the warden led Sonja into the prison. The warden warned waiting
prison guards and soldiers inside that they had surrendered, and should
not attack Sonja. She grinned at them as they passed, savoring their
terror of her massive gore-dripping body. The warden led them deep into
the prison, past pleading prisoners and old servant chambers, down into
the interrogation and torture rooms.

Two of Abrams' most trusted men guarded one of the rooms. They gasped as
they saw the warden leading the huge redhead. "Traitor!" One of them
shouted and charged at the warden. He didn't make it two steps before a
dagger plunged through his chest and pinned him to the stone wall. Sonja
easily dispatched the other guard by crashing her fist down on his
helmet. The metal plunged down through his shoulders, her fist crushed
his skull and neck with one blow.

"Abrams and his prisoner are in here," the warden stammered. Sonja
nodded and waved him away. The warden threw himself down at her feet and
wrapped his arms around one massive thigh, his fingers not able to touch
on the other side. His face pressed against hot hard skin, huge flexing
quads rippling against his cheek. "Thank you, thank you for sparing me
Sonja," he sobbed, terror and relief overcoming him.

Sonja was annoyed at this delay, but oddly touched as well, some
long-forgotten part of her still moved by trifling human emotions such
as pity and mercy. Instead of merely crushing him for his insolence she
let out a warning growl and roughly cuffed him across the ear. The
warden cried out as his body flew through the air and into a wall. He
collapsed to the floor, unconscious.

The heavy wooden door exploded inward as Sonja's fist blasted it to
oblivion. The corpses of the two guards followed the door into the room,
easily tossed by the gigantic warrior demoness. Sonja strode into the
room, her fists clenched and her man-sized biceps bulging with
readiness.

Abrams laughed nastily. "So you've arrived, hellbitch!" he roared. "Now
die!"

A huge wooden battering ram crashed into Sonja, crushing her armor and
pinning her into the stone wall. Her massive body was embedded a foot or
so into the wall. Sonja shook her head to clear it and wrapped her huge
arms around the battering ram, easily crushing it to splinters.

Abrams paled at this display of raw strength but bravely stood his
ground. Sonja let out a brief growl as she ripped the head off the
soldier who released the battering ram. She tossed the head at Abrams'
feet. His jaw set in grim determination. Sonja's eyes flicked between
John and the soldier. John was hoisted in a cage held several feet above
a large pit. Abrams' hand rested on the release of the winch holding the
cage.

Keeping her eyes on Abrams, Sonja walked slowly to the edge of the pit
and looked down. Rust-red dried blood covered long sturdy spikes at the
bottom of the pit. One movement of Abrams' wrist and John would be
impaled on the spikes. John looked at his mistress, his eyes shining in
adoration. "Mistress Sonja, I'm sorry," he coughed out. He was badly
beaten, his limbs rested at wrong angles and great welts and bruises
covered his broken flesh. Sonja's eyes narrowed.

"If I can't kill you, at least I can kill your pathetic slave," Abrams
spat out. It was obvious he had underestimated Sonja's strength and
invulnerability. He had underestimated her speed as well. As his hand
yanked down on the lever, Sonja was already diving into the pit. She
landed on the spikes, several of which broke under her tremendous
weight. She caught John's cage before it was impaled on the spikes and
leapt out of the pit. The chains holding the cage snapped and she landed
on the edge of the pit. She gently lowered the cage to the ground.

Abrams was nearly out the door when Sonja's hand wrapped around his
helmet. She lifted him into the air and spun him to face her. She
lowered her free hand to her dripping crotch and thrust her fist into
herself, covering it in her sweat and pussy juices. She wiped her
dripping hand over Abrams' face, marking him as he hissed and snarled in
hateful revulsion. He bit her slimy finger and she wiggled it, breaking
his teeth.

"Someday you'll meet someone stronger than you, and you'll die, bitch,"
he spat out weakly.

Sonja moved her mouth next to his ear. Her hot breath washed over him.
She licked his ear and moved her lips over his face, kissing him gently
until he became erect in spite of himself. As he realized her complete
physical and sexual power over him he wept. She held his gaze with her
piercing beautiful green eyes as she kissed him, thrusting her hand into
his lower garments and fondling his hard cock with her soft skin. He
felt her beautiful eyes burning into him and his mind crumbled before
her gaze. "Yes, yes, I'm sorry Sonja, my mistress Sonja!" he cried out
as he came all over her hand. Sonja chuckled and thrust a dagger into
his shoulder, pinning him against the stone wall. She thrust another
dagger into his other shoulder. His eyes glazed over in pain. She held
his face steady and brought her hand, dripping with their combined
fluids, to his bloody mouth. He lapped at her hand like a puppy and
cried, completely broken, hers to toy with. Sonja dug strong fingers
into his stomach and tore it open, letting his guts spill to the ground.
She turned away and left him to bleed to death.

She released John from his cage and gently picked him up, resting his
head against her huge pillowy breast and smiling down at him. He
struggled to hug her with his broken arms but she shook her head. She
leaned down and kissed him. "I think I'm dying," he whispered. "Abrams
poisoned me. I'm sorry." Sonja shushed him with her lips and carried him
out of Trabery Prison.

* * * * *

End of Sonja the Rescuer