She was shaking from the pain of having her arm pulled from her socket, then forced back in, but she was silent. She shook her head slowly. “No.” Her response was soft, without harshness as one would expect of a prisoner. “Thank you.” She added just as softly, reaching into her robes with her good arm to retrieve something- prayer beads. They were made of wood and looked rather worn and old, but she seemed to cherish them, holding them gently to her forehead as she began to pray softly, muttering mantras to herself.