The talk of rebellion had not been a fabrication of Hawke's, apparently. There were whispers that reached even Fenris's ears, despite the mistrust from the other slaves that came with his position. Each day, it seemed, more were found guilty; and each day, more were slaughtered at Master's behest. This did little to quell the whispers, however, and soon Master decided a change of scenery was in order.
Within two weeks of the first deaths, Master set out for Seheron. Master did not lack for slaves at any of his estates, so he took only those whose loyalty was certain: the tranquil slaves, Hawke's brother among them, Fenris, and Hawke herself. Master decided to leave Hadriana behind to "take care of this unfortunate incident."
Perhaps it was wrong of Fenris to feel giddy at the news, so much death had led to the decision, after all, but he couldn't help but be elated at the chance to finally, finally be with Hawke away from the snake. It had been so long, too long, since they had been able to steal a moment to themselves.
It would be a relief to not have to look over their shoulders in fear every time they spoke; that is not to say that they wouldn't have to be careful, but Master (blessedly) thought of his slaves as objects, not prone to independent thought or desire, and so didn't even notice the (multiple) affairs happening under his very nose.
The ship to Seheron was luxurious, as far as such things were, but even so Fenris slept on the floor in Master's private cabin. It could be worse: he could be in the hold with the other slaves, but still, Fenris quietly decided he did not like the sea (disgusting, with all its salt and fish. Ugh.).
Two weeks on that damnable ship, two weeks in which Fenris thought he would go mad for want of land, for sold ground that didn't sway under his feet. Finally, they pulled into port, the dense heat of Seheron clinging to Fenris's skin and the rolling greenery only briefly interrupted by the occasional rooftop. They had arrived.