Thread:ChazmanianDevil/@comment-26184570-20160804232358/@comment-27097330-20160824032340

For a while thighs were a blur for the young Tauredain boy. All he could remember later were flashes of memory.

He could remember how three or four slaves among with himself were loaded aboard a sleek ship with many sails, as old fishermen watched from the docks, and mothers pulled away their children, telling them not to watch.

He could remember the fierce men and women who pushed the slaves through, all of them bald except a braid above their left ear. All of them with painted faces, one half green, one half blue.

He could remember how he stumbled as he walked, and one of the older slaves caught him. "Careful kid."

He coud remember how he looked up to thank him, but got no response, for he was already back in line.

He could remember how they were locked up below, and how he desperately asked another capital what was going on, but they only replied with the words. "Get to sleep."

He could remember the night, filled with dreams of panic and alarm, and the screams of his mother as she fell from a window.

But most importantly he remembered the next day, when his life changed forever.

It was the crack of dawn when he was awoken by one of the shaved men banging a pot outside the cells. "Time's a ticking! The work won't do itself!" He then repeated the message in several languages. Before long on the boy found himself put to work on the ship, while all the other slaves got to work as well. He seemed to get easier jobs because of his young age, but it was only later that he would understand this, as at the time it was the hardest work he had ever done. The men aboard the ship weren't cruel, but they were strict. There were breaks for food and water, although they did not give enough to fully satisfy.

In fact it was during one such break that a girl, with a shaved head like the other free men, whispered to him, and gestured for him to follow. The boy uncertainly looked at the other slaves, but they didn't seem to notice. So he got up quietly and followed the girl. She lead him through amaze of crates and barrels barely giving him time to follow until they arrived in a protected area on the side of the ship. As he emerged panting she handed him some food. He muttered his thanks and began to gorge on it. The scarce breaks didn't always give him the amourt of food he would have liked. It wasn't until he was half done that he decided to ask the obvious question. "Who... Who are you?" The girl who had been watching him eat contentedly suddenly started. She was far older than him, but she had an air of innocence about her.

"Oh, you can just call me Itzel." She was scarred and tattooed he noticed, with darker skin, far darker than his.

"Why-"

"I suppose you're wondering why I helped you." She suddenly interrupted him. It wasn't until he was older he realized she was teasing him, as at the time he quickly shut his mouth, thinking she could read his mind, even though he knew that was ridiculous. "You obviously don't know the rules around here. It's not bad unless you don't get caught. The laws say you must eat little to stay strong, but stealing also keeps you strong. It's a confusing system, but you'll get used to it. After all, yo uaren't exactly going anywhere."

The little boy stared at her with wide eyes, and then opened his mouth again to speak. "I also bet you're wondering where you are, what's going on, judging from your size this is probably your first experience with slavery. And since you were sold by the prince, that probably means..." And she looked a little sad at this part. "Well, we both know what that means."

The boy's eyebrows furrowed. He opened his mouth, then shut it again. The girl seemed to clear her thoughts and smiled again. "Better finish that up." He finished the rest of the food in peace, altogether confused, while Itzel stared off at the water. Suddenly a horn shattered the silence. "Best be getting back now. Be careful!" She led him back to the slaves, where he began to rejoin them. "Wait. You never told me your name." She seemed curious, not hostile, but the question still brought back memories.

He recoiled, "I don't have a name."

She didn't seem dettered. "Well then I'll just have to think of one for you. Coaxotl. Yeah, I'll call you Coaxotl."

The boy seemed to get ready to respond, but decided against it and rejoined the group.

Meanwhile the man who bought him watches from above. A woman approaches him. "Why him?"

He looks up, "Hmm?"

We didn't need another child. "Why him?"

The man raises an eyebrow. "Well I'm sure he's better qualified to tell you than I am. Go ask him."

"He's a child, how would he know."

"Well, children pick up a good many things actually, one of their talents."

"That's not the point, all I'm saying is that if-"

But suddenly she is interrupted. A cry comes out from above. "A sail! There's a sail! A white sail."

The man looks back to her half smiling. "Looks like that'll have to wait."