Short Story

- There you are Fluffy, cm’here, you know you’re not supposed to be running into this area. can’t be out longer than an hour in this heat. Don’t make me sic Basi on you.

She wiggles her rump at me, and I realize it’s more a cry for help than a retort. As I move closer to the bush, I see she’s got her leg trapped.

- Easy there… give me just a second.

I unhook her leg out from under the roots, careful not to exacerbate the growing purple bruise I can already see forming at her knee. She gives a weak bleat.

- Oh you poor girl… I’ll have you looked over as soon as we get home.

A sharp crack in the air causes me to freeze in my tracks.

• ….ould we do?
• With that pretty face of his, we could get a lot of money from him.
• Yeah, I can see …show more content…

- You’ve handled him too roughly. If you were aiming to sell him off for his beauty, he’s not going to be worth much with all the scars you’ve inflicted.
¬ He’s too well bred.
- Look at his clothing. He’s obviously a noble himself, and you’re planning on selling him to them? It’d be a surprise if they didn’t recognize him and imprison you on the spot.

The man closest to me snarls.

- It doesn’t matter, we’ll sell him as soon as we cross Orl-
- You can’t, I blurt out. I’ve been watching you since you attacked him and I’ve sent out carrier message to the Orlya border to be on the look out for men of your description.
- If I were you I’d suggest you scram before their guards show up. Orlya takes slavery very seriously.
- I’m lying through my teeth. But they don’t, and can’t need to know that.
I glare them down, as the shoot each other furious, furtive glances. In a second they sprint towards me and I switch to a defensive stance before realizing I don’t need to – they rush past me and climb on their own black stallion, galloping in a direction away from Orlya.
-

¬ Fight
-
I think through the situation logically. I’m outnumbered two to one. Even if I can get the boy free, I need to assume he can’t fight. Think, think. I still have surprise on my side. I can feel the weight of a small dagger at my calves, and slowly grab my staff. Hopefully this won’t come to wounding.

I decide to make my move as soon as the men seem focused on rifling through the luggage on the