Alyss was tempted to throw the shovel she held down on the floor but the risk was too great. She quickly wiped a dirty hand across her face when the guard was busy punishing another for doing the same thing.
Her long blond hair was matted with dirt and the tangles would be impossible to get out unless she soaked her hair. The once white pristine dress was shredded and the once symbol of her status now only said slave.
Later that night when all the women were in their barracks, with no beds or other things to give even some comfort, they opened up about their pasts.
"I used to be a farmer's wife. I had two children and life was perfect," said the woman who was in charge sadly.
"My husband owned an inn. I loved it there. We even had the famous Will Treaty visit. We didn't realise until later although," the woman said mournfully.
Alyss was next in line and she didn't hesitate telling her story.
"I was his wife and I had such high hopes. Every time he went on a mission I would grow so worried," Alyss said.
"How often-" started one.
"Per year?" Alyss finished. The woman nodded.
"Three times roughly," she said. "Now I don't care about anything but seeing him again. Unfortunately, I know that this will be only when we are dead."
"How long were you married?"
"One summer," Alyss replied. Before life killed the dream I dreamed, she finished in her head.