Voices of Humanity

Prologue

Throughout my life, people have often said I was lucky. Perhaps it is true. If survival is a measurement of luck, there are few who could claim to be more "lucky" than myself.

I was born on a large farm, one of Cedrick Dulane's famed human livestock in the year 750 of sibla reign. My mother, Mariana, was my Master's true favorite. She was beautiful, sweet, docile, and talented in the kitchen. Everything a sibla could ask for in a human female. As she grew, he doted on her in a way he rarely did any of his animals.

My mother had a boy in her first pregnancy and my Master was happy. His favorite little human would be a successful breeder and he could justify maintaining her on his lands. But when they took the child from her arms soon after his birth, my mother cried silent tears for days. She knew her baby would be reared by another and slaughtered for his flesh. Though she continued at her work with as much diligence as ever, nothing seemed to cheer her to her normal happy self. Cedrick Dulane was determined to see her joy restored.

A year passed and he had her bred again. This time she became pregnant with twins. Two girls, of which I was one. My Master resolved that his favored pet would not slip into depression again and so he was present for the birth. The moment the two babies emerged from her womb he ordered they be cleaned and presented to him to make a choice. Only one of the offspirng would live. This was the first "luck" I encountered in my quest for survival.

I was born with a full head of dark hair, just like my mother's and had inherited echoes of her features. My sister posessed a fairer complexion and only a few wisps of blond fuzz on her scalp. They said I smiled when he reached out to examine my face. That he saw within me the sweet temperament of my mother. It was enough for my Master to make his determination.

I was handed back to my mother while my sister was taken away, condemned to be raised along with the other vealers. Of course, I didn't know I was losing a sister. Already I was gaining benefit at the expense of another human's life. But I was just a baby. An infant happily resting in the arms of an adoring mother.

Dulane vowed in that moment that I would be my mother's true child and she could raise me as her successor. One day I would be his favorite, as she was, and any sorrow she might feel in giving up her future offspring to his greed could be tempered by the fact she now had a daughter to cherish.

The gift Dulane had given my mother was a formidable one. It was rare that any of his breeders were allowed to raise their own offspring. After all, his stock might be sold or slaughtered at any time and it was best if none held such close bonds. But for my mother, the exception was made and she took full advantage, keeping me by her side as much as possible.

By the age of four, I was already quite the kitchen helper and by the age of six, I could even make a few dishes by myself. I still remember how my mother would stand me on a stool, watching like a hawk as I replicated her most famous recipes, rapping the backs of my hands or legs if I made even a minor mistake. Tough love. She wanted to make certain that I would prove useful to our Master. That I would be safe.

Her efforts were effective. In spite of the fact that I was nowhere near as beautiful as Mariana, Dulane was happy with me. I was obedient and had inherited my mother's talents at cooking along with all other tasks she dutifully instructed me in, from sewing to basic literacy. These were the skills required of a kitchen head, the position my mother now held, only just under the sibla woman who oversaw us.

Throughout my childhood, Mariana remained my Master's favorite and Dulane maintained affection for her in a way he did for no other. When one season the breeding male he'd put her with returned my mother home with bruises over her entire body, the man was taken outside and whipped bloody. We were all made to watch his punishment and the message was clear. Other human women could be abused, but no one was to raise a hand to my mother. I, in return, was granted that same protection.