[Beruthiel]

Santiara was startled by the loud shouting outside her hut. "Get outside now!" The door opened and a guard stared at them all with disgust. "In number order!" She slowly rose from her bed, her knees were so painful from being on the ground all day in the fields. The guard watched her and when she finally walked passed him he struck her on the back. She didn't even cry out, she wasn't going to give him that satisfaction. Number 13952. Thats who she was. Not Santiara just 13952.

They were forced to march all the way to the city. They were like cattle, stupid beasts that only the Easterlings could control. She hated the way they made her feel. She remembered something her father had said once, "Never forget who you are". Its too late now She thought to herself

As these thoughts raced through her mind the great hall loomed up ahead. The slaves were pushed through the doors harshly. Santiara saw a small child fall on the ground but was whipped until he got up again. The place was so crowded that the air was stuffy and it was hard to breathe. The crowd was getting larger as more camp groups were coming in.

She was standing on the lower level, the main stage was at the very front of the hall and standing on it was the figure of a man. No one needed to tell her who it was. Lord Erkatran. He was famous around the camps, he was rumoured to kill slaves at random.

Santiara watched the other slaves filing in, waiting for the ceremony to start.

[ April 03, 2003: Message edited by: Beruthiel ]

[ April 03, 2003: Message edited by: Beruthiel ]