White Ash (Storm)

I spend the night outside with the majority of my people, huddled together for warmth because the raiders don't allow us a fire.

Or hides.

And it's really cold.

So cold that I cannot help shivering.

So when the sun rises the next day, I am happy.

For a while.

Until we're pushed in front of the raider's cave and their leader comes out.

He's tall, dressed in a brown tunic and baggy leggings, tucked into hide boots from which hangs feathers. His hair is black and love, tied back by a thin cord. There's a streak of white hair running next to his face that seems to move like a snake in the gentle breeze.

And a scar running from his ear to ear, across the top of his eyes.

Which are green.

But there's something about them.

They're hard.

Almost sharp.

They seem to cut into me.

Right into my spirit.

As if he can see what makes me who I am.

As if he can change me.

Control me.

I don't like that.

I don't like it at all.

Does he have that effect on everyone?

Does he do it on purpose?

I watch as he grins.

I think he does.

And then he starts to speak. 'Hello and welcome slaves,' he says. 'My name is Zort, and you are now the property of the White Ash.'