In Tulshire, monsters buy slaves regularly, and is the biggest trade center in the country of Grive. The monsters in Tulshire always want a bargin, and never take a price lower than their offer.
Another crack of a whip screams in the air and a yelp of pain follows it. The mother that was in the cart recieved a bloody cheek and a swollen eye. The monsters close the wooden gate of the cage, and I am pressed into a corner. Monsters pass by and observe us, slowly choosing a slave and paying chips of gold, depending how healthy we are. Me, being small, would be useful for indoor chores, so not many monsters would buy me, since maids are much more well built than slaves.
A specific monster with a rather large nose points a meaty finger at the mother. Two other men open the cage and pull her out, grabbing her on both sides. The woman struggles and tries to reach her child again, but little does the young child know, he will never see his mother again.
The child, crying and bawling, wails for his mother, and she cries for him too. Sorrow and pain slash at my heart, and I can't help but stiffle a cry. The monster with the large nose as he observed the woman, and gave a large grin and chuckle. That expression on the monsters face gave me a chill of horror. Because sadly enough, monsters don't use female slaves just for chores. The woman recognizes it too, and turns white.
The two monsters put the woman in chains, hands and feet, and throw her in the large-nosed monster's cart. She screams and bawls, squirming and rattling the cart. The chains are dancing on her limbs, the buyer mutters something to the two monsters. They nod and hurry over to get a long strip of cloth. They tie it around her mouth and cut off her windpipe. The woman's eyes widen and she collapses. The cart trails off and her poor child is still crying, his face pressing against the bars of the cage.
More and more saves get bought, and the room in the cae expands. But still no one bought me. If you don't get bought you have to suffer through another journey in that treacherous cart. A man walks up to the cart, on one side he had hansome features, with dark sandy hair and mysterious brown eyes. His head turned, and the other side of his face was burnt, scarred, mutilated, and it was horrific. I couldn't help but gasp silently. The man must've heard me, because his head spun in my direction and he glared into my eyes.
"That one," the man said in a raspy voice, and pointed his finger at me.
