The Wind's Wanderer

hierarchical division

Three hours passed.

Evening fell, and thin light slipped through the cracks in the wooden walls before fading out.

Since that talk, Lily and I hadn't said another word. She curled back into the corner of the cage, hugging her knees, silent.

I just collapsed onto the damp, moldy floor.

Honestly, I'm no genius, no secret agent. Just an ordinary mind. Asking me to come up with a prison break plan while my leg is still chained like this is asking too much.

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

The sound of metal clashing jolted me upright.

Guards were walking down the rows of cages handing out food. That's when I realized: even in a filthy place like this, there's discrimination.

The healthy ones, the good-looking ones, were kept in a separate area. Bigger cages, and the food was actually decent.

And those considered defective goods, rejects, worthless... they were here. With me.

The guard stopped in front of Lily's cage, looked at her for a moment, then scooped a full ladle of rice, with a few scraps of meat on top. A healthy blonde kid still fetches a good price.

When it was my turn, he grimaced. He deliberately shook the ladle so most of the food fell back into the bucket before dumping it into my bowl. Just some watery porridge you could see straight through to the bottom.

"That's yours, you little brat."

He spat and moved on.

I looked at the porridge in my hand, then over at Lily's bowl of rice with meat.

Humiliating, yeah. But pride doesn't fill an empty stomach. I slurped it all down, and I was still hungry.

That night was torture. Cold, stench, the groans of the wounded... I tossed and turned until I finally dozed off a little near dawn.

But I hadn't slept long:

"GET UP! YOU PIGS!"

Andru's shout boomed like thunder. He yelled while banging the cage doors with an iron rod:

"ANYONE STILL LYING DOWN, I'LL BREAK YOUR LEGS!"

Everyone scrambled to sit up, chains clattering all over the room.

"Men, with me! Women and children, with Martha!" Andru pointed in two directions.

A sour-faced old woman stepped out, holding a long leather whip. Out of reflex I started to step toward the men's side. Luckily Lily tugged lightly at my shirt.

Right. I'm a girl now. Almost got a beating for nothing.

Old Martha led us to a big room, called a bathhouse to be fancy but it was just a few wooden tubs full of ice-cold water.

"Wash yourselves clean!" she cracked the whip. "Anyone who embarrasses me in front of the customers will regret it!"

I scooped water and poured it over myself, cold to the bone. Wiping off the mud, I bent down to look at the water's surface...

Even though I was mentally prepared, I still froze.

That face still had familiar features from my old self, but softer, more delicate, paler. Like someone took my face and recast it into a female version.

I ran my hand through my long black hair down to my back. On the left side near my ear there was a patch of hair cut jaggedly, revealing a small scar running to the edge of the ear. It didn't look like a weapon wound, more like a bite mark from some animal. Probably a leftover from this body.

"What are you standing there daydreaming for!" Martha's shout snapped me back to reality.

After washing, we were given clean burlap dresses. Probably because we were about to be sold, so they wanted to make us look a bit presentable. Breakfast was better too, bread and hot soup.

After eating, we were led out to the yard in lines. Three large wagons were already waiting. The slavers pushed us in and locked the iron doors tight.

The wagon shuddered and rolled away.

No one said a word to anyone.

Inside the carriage there was only the grinding of wooden wheels on the road and the clink of chains with every jolt. Some people hung their heads and sobbed quietly, some closed their eyes and muttered prayers. A child pressed close to its mother's chest, trying to stifle its cries as if afraid of being beaten for crying too loud.

Lily sat next to me, arms wrapped tight around her knees. She kept glancing out through the c***k in the iron door, then looking down again. I don't know if she was hoping someone would come to rescue her, or just trying to memorize this last stretch of road before being sold to a new master.

Destination: the Slave Market of the Kingdom.