How did such children like you ended up here?

Well, it wasn't so bad.

The three slavers quickly retaliated but, naturally, they were no match for Cottontail, who easily defeated them in mere seconds, breaking a couple more bones in the process. I didn't have to do anything. Cotton didn't let me. Not worth my efforts, she said.

Obviously, the commotion didn't take long to attract attention. In a few minutes, reinforcements came as a couple dozen slavers arrived to subdue the wild fox girl. Their threatening stance didn't help in calming her down. Since I couldn't convince Cottontail to stop, determined to protect me, I surrendered, letting myself be captured. Only then she understood they were actually no threat, and finally conceded the fight. It just only took like half of them to subdue her. Only. After that, the slavers brought us up to the hill.

It didn't go as smoothly as I'd planned, but at least, the initial goal was accomplished. We were now in the slavers' headquarters.

"Those fucking bitches broke my arm!"

"Yeah, yeah, I hear you."

Our hands now tied again, we silently listened to the drunkard complain as a couple of slavers kept a close eye on us.

"Fucking bitches… Fucking bitches! That's a fucking act of rebellion and I'm going to fucking murder them!"

Dude… Can't you stop with all those "fucking" already? I mean, if you want to curse, you could at least diversify your vocabulary.

In front of him, clearly tired of listening to his endless ranting, a man who seemed to be some kind of secretary was seated at a table, buried in red tapes. He was trying to focus on the documents before him, but the drunkard's constant shouting wasn't helping him concentrate.

"Look, I get it," he sighed, clearly not interested in his story. "I'll take care of it, so how about you let me do my job now?"

"Look at my fucking arm!" the drunkard bellowed, shoving his arm to his face. "Look at it! They broke it! They fucking broke it!"

Exasperated, the secretary suddenly stood up, slamming his palms against his desk.

"Nobody cares about your fucking arm, Reed!" he shouted.

"What did you say? Do you want me to break yours as well?!"

The secretary cringed, covering his nose.

"You reek of alcohol… Maybe if you took care of that drinking problem of yours, this wouldn't have happened. How many times have I told you to stop drinking during your shifts?"

The drunkard spat at his feet.

"Mind your own business, toothpick!"

"That's what I'm trying to do, but you're making things a bit difficult," the secretary retorted, unfazed by his rude action, "so how about you fuck off and let me do my job? Unlike you, I have some work to do."

"I was fucking attacked and I want my fucking revenge!"

"And I told you we'll take care of it!"

Tired of arguing, the secretary sighed loudly. He massaged his temples, trying to get rid of the upcoming headache, and turned towards the other slavers.

"Get this fool out of here," he demanded, with a quick gesture of the head.

The other slavers nodded. They forcefully grabbed the drunkard and dragged him out of the tent.

"Let me go, you arseholes! I'm going to murder you all! I'll kill these two bitches first and then you are all next! You hear me?! You're next!"

Unimpressed by his threat, the secretary returned to his desk.

"Fucking idiot," he muttered, "does he even know how to do something other than fight?"

"Come on, don't be like that," another slaver advised with a half smile, amused by the scene. "Reed may be a fool, but he is quite capable during raids."

"Then find him some village to raid, because in the meantime, I'm the one who needs to clean up his mess!"

The secretary clicked his tongue, letting himself sink into his chair before inspecting all the papers in front of him.

"Where was I?" he thought outloud. "Fuck. I need to sort out all those slaves before the next supply."

"Hey, Eddie!" someone called him.

"What?"

"What about those two?"

Their eyes shifted in our direction as the secretary brought a palm to his neck, remembering the origin of the problem: us. His eyes hard and focused, he carefully studied us, trying to figure out what to do with us. I could tell that he wasn't looking at us as fellow human beings, but as simple products to sell. Eventually, a loud sigh escaped his mouth.

"Such a waste… Put them with the others," he ordered.

"Huh? You sure? They seem like they could fetch quite a lot."

"You have enough on our hands like that, we don't need other insurgents."

The other slaver tilted his head, not entirely convinced.

"If you say so…" he doubted. "Is it safe, though? They seem quite strong."

"They are knee-high to a grasshopper, what do you think they can do?" the secretary pointed out, his eyes rolling. "They have the collars!"

"Well, they did defeat a few of our men. Have you seen Reed's arm? It looked… necrotic."

"Reed is a drunkard. Last time he fell and twisted his ankle, he couldn't even tell until the next morning because that idiot was completely numb to pain."

The slaver paused for a moment before an ironic smile broke onto his face.

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

The matter closed, he moved towards us to grab our collar. Then, with a swift movement, he forced us to get up, easily lifting us both.

"Let's go ladies!" he announced, all smiles. "Come with me, and don't make a scene, alright?"

Completely inconsiderate of us, the slaver barely allowed our feet to touch the ground as he pulled our collars, leading the way further into the shelter. A few minutes later, we had reached the other side of the tent. But as soon as we crossed the exit, my stomach lurched, a nauseous smell assaulting my nose. By reflex, I tried to cover my nose. However, I soon remembered that my hands were tied behind my back. I tried to bear with it, but the scent was really nauseating. Even Cottontail couldn't help but cringe at it. The slaver was the only one who didn't seem to mind it, clearly already used to it.

In front of us, a few dozen slaves were all crammed together in a small pen, sitting and lying in their own feces and vomit.

"Don't stop," the slavers ordered, as he noticed our reluctance to advance any further.

He dragged us to the pen, opened the gate, and immediately threw us in.

"Stay here and don't cause any trouble," he instructed, before a smirk appeared on his face. "Don't worry, you won't stay there for too long!"

Seemingly enjoying the situation, the slaver shifted his attention to the slaves on the ground.

"New friends for you guys," he scoffed, "but be careful of the furry one. She bites!"

As the slaver disappeared, returning to the tent, I couldn't help but freeze on spot, completely grossed out by my surroundings.

Alright, Lynett. Calm down. Don't forget why you're here. It's just poop, pee and vomit. Now is not the time to be a snob. Think about those poor people's condition. Who cares about hygiene, right?

Trying not to think about where I was putting my feet, I used magic to burn the ropes off of my wrists and forced myself to move.

I am so going to throw these shoes away after this…

Around us, the slaves were completely devoid of any spirit. Most of them were alive -at least I think so- but none of them were moving. Those who weren't sleeping were blankly staring forward, completely ignoring me. They were all in bad shape, though. Some were nothing but skin and bones while others had clear marks of physical abuse all over their body.

Great. So not only they beat them, but they also starve them? Those slavers are beyond redemption.

I looked all around me, trying to find someone who wasn't completely dead inside.

"You're only children…" I suddenly heard someone speak up.

Turning to the direction of the voice, my eyes fell upon an injured man. His clothes weren't as soiled as the others', indicating that he hadn't been there as long as them, but both his legs were severely injured, making him unable to stand up. I crouched down beside him, inspecting his open wounds. The blood was still fresh, the injuries were recent. And exposed like that, in such an unsanitary environment, they were going to get infected for sure.

"Don't mind me, I'm fine," the man assured with a smile as he saw me inspecting his legs.

"Did they do that to you?" I asked.

"No, I was bored so I did it to myself," he joked. "It's always been my dream to be a crippled, you see?"

"What did you do to piss them off?"

"Well, I might have sneaked into one of the slavers' tent to choke them in their sleep. Their constant snoring was bothering me, you know?"

He tried to laugh, but with this many injuries, each one of his giggles brought pain. He couldn't help but wince.

"You must be quite lively to still joke around like this," I noted.

"Would you rather have me eat my own shit like the others?"

"…They eat their own shit?"

"Some do."

I cringed.

"I think you're fine the way you are."

A smirk spread across his face.

"What about you, kids?" he inquired. "How did such children like you ended up here?"

I exchanged a quick glance with Cottontail before returning my attention to him.

"I insulted them, she kicked their ass."

Cottontail nodded.

The stranger chortled. Then, he grabbed his sides, wincing from pain.