Bonds of Silver, Bonds of Gold 02: Adjustment (Part 2)

I groaned when light returned to the room, shifting to try to find a more comfortable position. I couldn’t remember my dreams, but they must have been terrifying; I’d managed to toss aside the mattress cover in my sleep and was laying directly on bare straw. “Soon, mother,” I mumbled, trying to roll onto my side. “I’m too sore to till today; get Justik to do it.”

“Justik isn’t here,” replied an all-too-familiar voice. “Nor is your mother.”

As soon as I heard the slaver’s words, memory returned to me. I struggled to kneel, whimpering as the aches of my last encounter made themselves known again. Head bowed, I rested my paws on my spread knees, my pads upturned, my fingers as relaxed as I could. I tried to keep my expression level, but I couldn’t fight the flush of heat that flooded my cheeks.

Two pair of footsteps approached. “You’re probably hungry,” the slaver said. “You slept through supper. I wouldn’t normally feed you until mid-morning, but I need you recovered from yesterday and I can’t train you as well on an empty stomach.” A key rattled in the lock of my door, and I looked up to see Milos kneeling next to the door; in one paw he held a hunk of bread, a pair of carrots in the other. He passed them to me, and I ate ravenously, down to the tops.

As I licked my pads for crumbs, Milos beckoned to me. I couldn’t stand, so I had to crawl out of the cage. The wolf took one of my arms in his paw, helping me forward, but then cupped my muzzle in the other and lifted it. Before I could blink, the slaver stepped forward and hooked something to my collar. My ears flattened against my head at the sudden clack of metal against metal, and then something tugged on my neck, hard. I let out a yelp and Milos released me, leaving me free to look down to see a leather braid running from my neck back to the slaver’s paw.

The slaver favored her pet with a stroke of his head, one thumb tickling the inner edge of his ear. “Thank you, Milos. Finish preparations for me. You may rise.” The wolf bowed at the waist, his forehead nearly touching her hind, then stood and walked over to the wall. When I turned my head to follow him, though, a sharp tug brought my attention back to the raccoon holding the other end of my lead, jerking me forward. “Your eyes here.”

Instantly, my head turned to hers, then quickly dropped again. “Yes, master,” I murmured.

“Good,” the raccoon replied. “So then, you said you’d led your row in hymnal.”

“Yes, master,” I agreed. “I’ve been told that my singing voice is strong if high.”

She motioned for me to proceed. “Something challenging, then. Do you know all of ‘We Shall All Walk Together’?”

I hesitated, but then nodded. “I think so, master.” My throat was still sore from yesterday’s beating, and the first few bars faltered, but I found the key soon enough. I closed my eyes, imagining services at home as I sang. Mother would be wearing her full-black dress and cowled cloak. Justik and I would be in jacket and cap. Anya would ask when she’d be old enough to cover, and Nadzia would laugh at her and try to tickle her ears. Little Gior would just be old enough to attend and not cry. The smell of food, breads and thin stews and whatever else could be spared across twenty families, would fill the meetinghouse. This week’s keeper of the litany, often Father while he was alive, would stand at the podium dispensing guidance and stories of hardship and compassion, inviting others to share their troubles and offer suggestions. Then we would all lift our voices. I could imagine hearing Mother’s clear upper reaches and Father’s supportive lower register accompanying me.

Thinking of them, my voice cracked. Memories forced themselves upon me, unbidden. The last services before I’d left had been little comfort. The deep winter had left more than one farm barren, and little more than bread graced the meetinghouse tables. Mother’s eyes, like the room, were cold, the pain of her loss still too new and too real for her to handle despite Justik’s efforts. Anya and Nadzia could barely be coaxed to smile, much less laugh, and the expression never reached their eyes. Little Gior’s tears would not be stilled, and all through hymnal his cries could be heard, giving voice to the pain we all felt. I did my best to fill Father’s role that week, but I couldn’t be the man he was, and I knew, looking at the weary faces around me, that everyone else knew it too.

I choked, covering my muzzle with my paws. The tears that I had been forced to hide at services, that I could not shed as the head of the family, flowed freely, my voice descending into sobs. “F-forgive me, master,” I managed to say with some effort. “I’m sorry.”

“I think I understand,” the raccoon replied. “I recall what you said about your reasons. This must all still be a shock to you. You were correct, by the way. Your voice is quite strong, even if it is high for your age.”

I nodded in response, clearing my throat and trying to get myself under control, ears reddening at the compliment.

She took a handkerchief from within her dark yellow dress and offered it to me. “Take a moment and compose yourself. I’ll check on Milos.” With that, she let drop my leash and walked over to the wolf.

As she conferred with her pet, I wiped at my eyes, then blew my nose and folded the square of cloth. With a few moments, I looked down at the lead; it hung from my neck, three braided leather straps almost as long as I was tall, ending in a loop. I glanced towards the slaver, then past; the door to the front office sat faintly ajar. Visions of escape tickled the back of my head. I could probably sprint faster than either of them, I thought. I could be outside before either of them could catch me. Once I made it to the city walls, any number of people would take me. I could be free of the collar by morning, and if there’s been no sale, then I could just return the contract. She loses a piece of bread and some time; I lose a night’s sleep and some dignity. Given what’s happened, anyone would forgive me.

The raccoon returned and took the handkerchief from one paw, the end of the leash from the other. She slipped the loop of leather around her wrist, then gave it a tug, snapping me back to my senses. “What were you thinking?”

I wiped at my nosepad with the back of one paw. “Nothing, master.”

The slaver frowned. “I spare you some time to recover and you show your gratitude by trying to deceive me?”

“No, master!” The response was reflexive, my head shaking emphatically. “It’s just… I’m sorry, master. I was thinking how easy it would have been to try to escape. Your back was turned, I had control of my leash, and the door is open.”

At that, the raccoon blinked and tilted her head to the side, her expression sliding into confusion. “Then why didn’t you run?”

I drew in a deep breath. “Because, master, there’s no reason to return. We had too many muzzles to feed and too few crops to feed them. I did this to give them a chance. Going back would take that away from them.” I sighed heavily, feeling as though a weight had just fallen from my chest. “This is my life now, master. Your life, until I’m sold.”