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The leather sacks of water brought from the river by the prisoners had now been hung on branches at the edge of the camp, and the prisoners were being conducted into the forest, presumably to gather wood for the night fire. - (Smugglers of Gor, Chapter 40, Sentence #130)

She does not even know she is needful. She is restless, and does not even understand it. Or does she, and is she afraid? Does she know that what smolders in her belly are slave fires, put there by men, and that, in time, they will grow, and rage, and she will find herself their prisoner, ready to beg relief from men, in time, from any man? Perhaps a silver tarsk, and, say, twenty copper, or even, perhaps, a bit more, I thought. The leather sacks of water brought from the river by the prisoners had now been hung on branches at the edge of the camp, and the prisoners were being conducted into the forest, presumably to gather wood for the night fire. They were accompanied by Donna, with her switch, and two men, with spears. We had heard the roar of panthers in the forest. We watched the coffle disappear in the shadows, accompanied by Donna, and its guards. - (Smugglers of Gor)