A few minutes later, I made my way to the kitchen tent, where I discovered that one of the human chefs had already begun preparing the breakfast, and hear my stomach growl because of the wonderful aroma. I can't even properly pronounce the names of the animals.
Although the humans have implanted transmitters in our ears to assist us in understanding the Aliens languages, there are still some words that we are unable to properly pronounce.
The animal that has laid eggs, such as a chicken, has provided the eggs that is currently being cooked with its meat. I just called them monster chickens because they significantly bigger than your typical chicken from a farm and considerably more vicious.
A few of them are confined in a pen a few miles away, and they are responsible for laying the eggs for us. If the chicken has been around for too long, we will sometimes kill it eat the meat.
"Do you need some help?" As I entered the tent, and asked the other slave woman named Emily.
"Here. Finish chopping these." She moves a bundle of round things that vaguely resemble onions toward me from the other side of the table.
When the Aliens took us humans, Earth presented them with a number of seed packets as a gesture of gratitude for their assistance in preserving our planet.
"Okay." I tell her softly as I pick up a long silver knife with a super sharp blade and begin to slowly chop them up, being careful not to accidentally cut my fingers with the sharp blade of the knife.
After a brief period of time, the food is finished being prepared, at which point several additional slave women enter the tent and begin bringing out the food.
When it comes to eating, we are also subject to certain guidelines. Who gets to eat first is determined by their position in the hierarchy.
It is customary for the king to be served first, followed by the captains and then the fighters. After the those members of the Horde have obtained their plates, the remaining members of the Horde are free to take one for themselves, at which point the Horde women will be able to take theirs as well.
Slaves are the last people to eat and are allowed to eat whatever is left over after everyone else has finished.
When it comes time for us to eat, when there is not much food left, and I wanted to make sure the elderly and the children to get their fill before I do.
I am often left hungry. I know I should just care about my self but I just do not have the heart to watch someone else go hungry.
I decide to spend the next hour in the kitchen, where I continue to grab and clean the dishes as the other women bring them inside the tent. Because I wash at least a couple hundred plates every day, my hands are always rough.
I blame the work.
When I don't have help, I feel like my arms might actually just fall off.
Because it can take me up to several hours to clean up after each meal, I don't have as many responsibilities as other slaves do.
It's not uncommon for my fingers to go numb, and when that happens, I have to start moving them around in order to get the blood flowing through them again.
After some time has passed, I have finally completed everything with the help of another slave named Austin. He stated that one of the other men told him to come inside to assist me, and he did so.
I felt very thankful.
I quickly rushed out of the tent and towards the food table, where I grabbed a plate for myself before anyone else could do so, and then I started eating my eggs while looking around the camp.
All of the tents that are used for making things are located in the same general area. This includes the tent for making swords, the tent for making jewelry for women, the tent for making fabric, and many others. To facilitate the sale of the items, the workers set up several small tables in front of their respective tents.
I enjoy looking through their shops simply to see what wonderful things they have made; they truly have a lot of talent. I see one of the workers, selling some small animals; they kind of resemble wolves but can get as big as tigers.
Unfortunately, I do not have the funds necessary to purchase one, as much as I would love to have one to snuggle up with at night.
I'll just have to settle for daydreaming about owning one. That is the best I can do in this situation. I only need to grasp onto my fur blanket to conjure up an image of myself cuddling a cute little wolf cub.
When someone walks in front of me while I'm watching the Captains order the fighters to do their workouts, I almost suffocate on the bite of egg that's still stuck in my throat.
I looked up, as my eyes moved up his chest, I immediately noticed the color of his skin.
I was surprised.
It is pure gold.
It is not just anybody.
It is the King, for crying out loud.
I quickly shove my head down, bowing it and looked at my swollen, blistered feet while simultaneously crossing my fingers that I was able to stop myself in time and did not look him in the eye. I do not believe that I did, but it is possible that I did. It all just happened fast, I had not expected the king to step so close to me.
"You stitch?" He grunts and crosses his arms over his chest.
The king is talking to me.
What the hell.
"King, do you grant permission for me to speak?" I asked in a hushed tone, taking care not to lift my chin as I cautiously chewed and swallowed the egg I was holding in my mouth in an effort to avoid choking on it once more.
"I am talking to you am I not? I want to know if you were able to sew!" I was forced to take a hurried step back as he growled, the harsh sounds coming from his chest causing me to be alarmed.
"Yes, King, I can stitch." I quickly rushed out, not wanting to piss him off anymore.
Is that the reason he is talking to me? Does he need some of his clothing to be stitched? How did he even think to ask me that? In all of my twenty-five years on this planet, I have never once had a conversation with him.
"Good. At the moment, the healer is extremely busy. The men are in for a rough day of training today thanks to Rickon's instruction. I need you to stitch me up." He gives a growl.
Why does he feel the need to snarl and growl such a damn much?
All it does it make me more nervous.
"King I do not know how to stitch people-." I started crying, and then I looked up. For a brief second, I forgot about the laws, and my eyes became fixated on his golden ones.
Fuck.
That is something I should not have done.
I am helpless in the presence of his gaze, and I have to confess that the Horde king is seriously the most attractive man I have ever seen. His eyes are a golden color that is more vivid than the color of his skin, and his hair is black. He is very handsome in every way. The fact that his entire body is covered in muscles makes it abundantly clear that he is a powerful leader.
He appears to be dangerous and deadly.
"I am so sorry. Please forgive me! It was just that your request to have me stitch you surprised me. I was under the impression that you needed me to repair your clothing, King." I bolted out, immediately lowering my head and fixing my eyes squarely on the hideous wounds on my feet.
"No. When I went for a swim, I ended up slicing open the bottom of my foot on something that was in the water." He let out a huff and sounded irritated by my constant babbling.
"Maybe you should try asking someone else instead. Is it possible that it's one of your Fighters? I have no doubt that they are able to perform that task more effectively than I could, King." I muttered in a low voice because I did not want to be impolite to my king, but I also needed him to comprehend that I have never done what he is asking of me.
"That is not going to happen. It was a stupid thing to do, and I do not want one of my soldiers to have to stitch up their King because he was injured while swimming." Because of his loud growl, the ground beneath my feet began to shake, which caused my legs to shake. "This is something you will do. I order you to do it."
"What if I make things even worse?" I broke down in tears, a mixture of annoyance and agitation coursing through my body.
Will the king punish me if I don't do a good job?
Will I lose one of my hands like Justin did and die?
"I just need to apply pressure to the wound for a few seconds in order for it to start healing. Little slave, don't you know anything about anything? We have a rapid recovery rate." He lets out a sigh, presses his hand to his face, and scrunches up his nose, all while shaking his head.
"I truly apologize. I forgot King." I let out a whimper.
I really do not want to die.
"Come on. We will do this within the privacy of my home to prevent anyone from witnessing my embarrassment." He growls and then spins around to face the opposite direction, walking away from me.
After finishing the last of my meal in record time, I set the plate down on the table and then walk behind him in a leisurely manner.
I can't believe I'm about to do something like this.
I am fixing to be inside the Horde kings home.
Shit.
I feel like I'm going to pass out from all of the nerves that are buzzing around inside of my stomach.