The Lion

Chapter 1

         

My mother told me that a lion knows how to hunt.  No matter what image is projected to the world, the lion knows what truly lies inside of his prey.  Because of this, a man will always be able to locate the woman meant for him.  Even if she were to act cold, he will surely find his way to her heart.  If she were to act timid, he will most certainly open her shell.  The lion naturally knows how to hunt…

         I stood on the auction block in order for the entire crowd to be able to see me.  There were many surprised gasps when I raised my head and I immediately lowered it again.

         “How can a slave be so striking?” A voice whispered.

         “I hear tale she’s a bastard child of a slave mother and white father.”

         “How can such an unpleasant mix be so attractive?”

         “It’s a disgrace, yes.”

         “This here item is a girl of eighteen.  As you can see, she is unusually pretty, meaning I will be expecting very large sums for the girl.  Now, let’s proceed with the bidding.”

         I glanced out over the crowd and saw that the people present were mostly men of high class, but some had their wives with them and I even spotted a child or two.  How shameful.  A child so vulnerable should not be anywhere near these awful sights; children are easily corrupted and traumatized.  I sighed quietly as the bidding only continued, the numbers climbing higher and higher.  At the very back of the crowd at the very edge of the street was a large black carriage with two bright white horses standing proud in front of it.  It was laced in beautiful, ornate golden designs that the sun shone brightly off of, causing them to shimmer.  The coachman climbed down from his position at the reigns and stepped over to the window where a gloved hand reached out and handed him a small black velvet pouch.  I couldn’t see the person sitting in the coach, as he sat back against the seat until a shadow fell across most of him. 

The coachman waited a moment before nodding and turning toward the crowd.  He was a young man mostly likely not past thirty years of age and looked as though he had already seen his fair share of horrific sights.  His cheekbones were high and the rest of the structure of his face was firm and sharp.  He kept his brown hair short and his gray eyes were not a normal color to see from where I came from in Africa, so I believed they were very flattering on him.  He held his head high as he approached the dealer and there was almost an air of royalty about him.  Quietly, the coachman leaned down toward the dealer and whispered something to him before handing him the velvet pouch.  The dealer’s eyes widened and he opened the pouch with shaking hands as the crowd went silent.  After looking into the pouch for a second, the dealer quickly grinned and shook hands with the man before ordering me down off of the auction block.  I wonder what could have been in that pouch…

The coachman gestured for me to follow, and the crowd easily parted as if the man in front of me were Moses.  There were many stares and whispers, causing me to lower my head.  A few words were exchanged between the coachman and the hidden man before the carriage door was opened and the former lifted my hand in order to help me up the steps.  I silently sat on the seat opposite of the man who had been hidden from view but did not dare look up at him for he was my new owner.

“What is your native tongue?”

“My mother taught me Soussou and English, but I am used to Soussou,” I told him quietly.  There wasn’t a moment of pause before he started speaking in my native language.  I was shocked.  How many other languages did he know?

“Look at me,” he said.  It was demanding but also very kind at the same time.  I was used to keeping my gaze low, but I looked up anyway.

The man was very handsome.  He was very broad-shouldered, giving off a domineering presence but the gentle smile on his face told a different story.  Instead of a white wig I heard the noblemen wear, he had his long, dark wavy hair falling beyond his shoulders and his eyes were a dark blue.  He, too, had a powerful aura about him but it was stronger than the coachman’s. 

“You’re a pretty one… what’s your name?”

“Amara.”

“Very fitting.  My name is Leander Ainsworth, and I am your new master.  You will be treated very fairly in my home.  I have two other servants whom I believe you will get along with quite well.  The first is Noah, the man you met moments ago.  The second is my maid Ademia.  You will be well taken care of, so there is no need to fear me.  Honestly, I bought you your own freedom.  You can leave at any moment you wish.”

I hadn’t noticed the carriage door was still wide open until that moment and I looked back and forth between the world and the man for a few moments.  Should I leave to return to a world that hated me?  I looked down and relaxed into the seat without saying a word.

“Very well,” Leander said, “Noah.” The carriage door closed and a moment later we began moving.  I couldn’t stop this feeling of hope I found rising in me.  What was it doing there?  How did it arrive?  Maybe I’ll find the answer soon…