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You might know what a Slave Auction is, and you might not.
I shall tell you.
A Slave Auction is when they (and by they, I mean the peasants of the kingdoms) clean up all the maidens, which are women eleven to eighteen, and bring them to an auction. It is at this auction that maidens are sold as slaves. Sometimes the Royals go and sometimes they do not, but when they go they almost always take at least twenty maidens. When the Royals do not go the average of maidens sold is around fifty. When the Royals go, the average of maidens sold is almost half that, for the counts and earls and dukes are too afraid that they will anger the Royals by bidding for a maiden the Royals desired.
I have been very lucky with the auctions. I do not make friends easily because I am frightened that if I become too attached to somebody, I will feel much grief when they are sold. I have never been sold. Little tricks help me to appear undesirable, such as keeping one eye half closed and crossing my eyes, or smudging ash all over my body so it looks as though I have some strange birthmark. I muss up my hair or slouch over. The possibilities are endless, but I never share these tips with people. For if they appear undesirable too, it is more likely that I would be chosen.
I was thinking about how I was going to destroy my appearance as I slipped quietly out of the hut into the fresh air and grey dawn that was approaching. Birds were cheeping timidly from their nests and from most of the huts I could hear a soft snoring. I spotted the hut in which the only friend that I dared have lived in. Her name was Amaya. She is feisty and can be rude, but I have known her since I was born and I will always love her. She helped me when Deirdre first started beating me and has ever since; held me when I cried, sneaking me into her house at night so I could be spared a beating. She is the only person that I have helped to not get auctioned off.
I flashed a baring grin at her home, crinkling up my nose, then turned and walked quietly into the forest. If there were any vampryes out hunting, I was as good as dead, for when vampryes wanted blood, they got it. But after years of doing this I know how to sneak stealthily almost anywhere. I know how to turn into a shadow, flitting from tree to tree in the darkness. Avoiding loud spots like leaves and stones comes easily to me, and I know how to fall flat on my stomach and mask my scent to hide from hunters of the night.
Stepping carefully from soil spot to soil spot, avoiding leaves, I whipped around as I heard a loud crunch in the underbrush behind me. I stood tense, then swiftly moved into a crouch, my eyes scanning for any small sign of movement. Glancing up informed me that the sun was almost fully up, the sky streaked with orange and pink and red.
“Dessie! Dessie? Wait for me!” the harsh whisper pierced through the crunching of leaves. Relaxing, I stood, drawing my cloak tighter around me. I could act real in front of Amaya. She would not say anything at all to me that I did not want to hear, such as reprimanding me for being out in the woods at this hour, or the rumpled condition of my clothing and hair.
With a muffled oomph, Amaya broke through the leaves, stray hair floating around her face. Her coffee-colored skin was flushed slightly with exertion, her midnight black hair looked almost blueish in the filtered light.
“Oh, Dessie. It was Deirdre, was it not? She got to you again.” I nodded mutely and she wrapped her strong, firm arms around me. Almost like a boy, but not quite as tough.
“You should not be out here, Amaya. Truly. It is dangerous out here at this hour. Go home.” she pulled back, determination knitting her brow together.
“No, Dess. When have I ever let you tell me what to do? Since when have I listened?” I shook my head and crossed my arms. Amaya stared back, chin high, regal and beautiful in the morning light. I rolled my eyes and took her hand, allowing her to lightly prod my cheek, which I was sure was already yellowing.
“Let's go hide the bottle, then we shall go back to your house. Is that all right?” I asked quietly as we walked deeper into the woods.
“Of course. We can make dough cakes for breakfast; there is some honey on the storage shelf.”
“Good. I do not wish to go back home, although Deirdre most likely will not be awake for several hours. Nevertheless, I do not want to go back. When she wakes up she shall be hung over, and I do not want to be there when she is grumpy. She is already bad enough.” I glanced around cautiously, making sure nobody was around, before kneeling gracefully and lifting up a slab of wood hidden under pine needles and soil. There was a large pit under it, and in the pit were thousands of pieces of glass—shards of wine bottles, beer bottles, vodka, rum, and any other alcoholic drink bottle you could possibly think of.
It was while I was emptying the contents of the sack, glass tinkling loudly and shattering even more when it hit the older pieces, that Amaya tugged on my cloak.
“Dessie!” she whispered, putting her lips to my ear and speaking no louder than a breath. “Shh! Do not say anything!” she hissed when I opened my mouth to speak. “Did you hear that?”
Shooting a wary glance her way, I swiftly covered the pit back up, pushing dirt and leaves back over it while sweeping my foot along the ground, concealing the rotting wood. In an instant I was behind the nearest tree, a towering pine that was surely here when humans were free. It had a fresh and resinous smell to it.
All the better. If it was a vamprye, which I was ninety nine point nine percent certain it was, the needles would mask Amaya and I's scent. Adrenaline pumped through my body.
“Climb.” I mouthed to Amaya. She glanced up, then reached out to grab the nearest branch.
Now I heard what Amaya had. A soft crunching of leaves, the silky sound of branches against clothes. I did not know whether it was friend or foe; but I was not prepared to risk our lives to find out the easy way. I would much rather observe from afar. I had grown up being not the hunter but the hunted, yet I had never before had such an ominous feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach. It seemed that a primal part of me, the part that remembered being hunted by animals, the one that remembered what it felt like to have teeth rip through your flesh, into your stomach and intestines, the feeling of slowly, slowly bleeding to death as you lay upon the ground being eaten alive.... It seemed that the part of me who remembered those things was warning me:
This was not friend. This was foe.
“Go!” I hissed through gritted teeth. “Climb! Go, Amaya!” she scrambled up, reaching down to help me. I watched as her gaze flickered above my head, and her breathing quickened, face becoming pale and ashy.
I did not look for fear of what I might see.
“O-oh- Dear God!” she whimpered. Her eyes widened in fear. “Blood.” she murmured, closing her eyes. “So much blood.” with a gasp, I wrenched my head around just in time to see the bear and dash out of the way, picking up a smooth stone from the forest floor and throwing it at the bear's head.
I just had to keep it away from Amaya. She may be fierce, but she did not have it in her heart to kill something, no matter how beastly or threatening it may be to her or her loved ones. I counted myself as one of these loved ones.
It reared up onto its hind legs, towering over me. It was a beautiful creature, some distant part of my brain noted, with silky smooth brown fur that glimmered in the morning light—the sun was entirely up now-- with magnificent gleaming teeth, curved and sharp.
Of course, the teeth were what terrified me most. However, the blood that had Amaya pale and shaking was not visible to me at the moment...what had she been talking about?
Snapping of bones and necks, roaring of some angered beast in the distance, yelling, and some far off scream of pain and fear... I blinked. Where had that come from? Shaking my head to clear my brain and ready for a fight, I pulled the one thing out of my boot that I had with me always, no matter where I was or what the occasion. Without it, I did not, could not, refused to feel safe.
A knife. It could be used both ways; the handle was wooden and could be used against vampryes, while the blade was a steel coating that came off easily to also be used as a handle. Yet it did not come off too easily, it would not come loose while I was in the middle of a battle. The steel coating could be used against humans, witches (although ash worked best) and could severely injure sirens. And animals.
The bear dropped down onto all fours and let out a long roar, bellowing its anger at me. My hair flew back from my face, my hood falling off. I had to either kill the bear with my first blow, at least severely weaken it, or die and leave Amaya at its mercy.
I could not bear (please excuse the pun) the thought of that.
The bear, which I decided in a small part of my mind while the other part was figuring out a way to attack without leaving any openings for it to hurt me too badly, was a very beautiful creature.
But it must die.
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