Me: I'm baaaa~aack.

Children Born in Chains

Chapter 1

By: Soniclover28

He watched the stream.

He knew he should be back in his tent with his brothers, but he loved watching this small body of water carry small fish down its current. He loved watching the colors of the sunset dance atop the surface of the water. He loved watching the water splash onto his stubby little toes and settle back into the mud that boarded the stream.

He sighed. He watched the stream.

What if he was as free as the stream?

He scoffed. He was a cold-blood. That would never happen.

"Slave! Where are you hiding?!"

His eyes widened, and he shakily stood up, and slowly turned around to see a wolf. A giant, great white wolf that did not belong in the midst of a green forest, yet, here he was, with his white fur and golden eyes contrasting from the forest around him so much it almost hurt…

"This slave is here, Owner..."

The wolf whirled around with a snarl, his yellow eyes narrowing at the sight of a young turtle standing before him. The turtle stood, trembling, about four feet in height, dressed in nothing but the shell on his back and an orange piece of cloth around his neck.

The turtle's baby-blue eyes glistened in fear at the sight of the towering being looming over him.

"Why were you not in your hold?!" The wolf boomed.

"Th-this slave is sorry! Th-this slave lost track of time," The freckled turtle sputtered.

The wolf, with his teeth flashing a toothy sneer, unhooked something from the belt he wore to keep his tan shorts in place.

"What are doing here at such a late hour?" The wolf growled, straightening out the coil of leather he held in his hands.

The boy panicked. "I was just looking at the stream, Owner…!" The orange-banded amphibian exclaimed. Suddenly, his eyes widened. "Forgive this slave for his incorrect grammar!"

"You are not to address yourself in such a way, pathetic scum!" And with that, the wolf cracked the whip at the turtle, and he cried out in pain as it struck his face. "You are not to leave your chamber unless given permission! You have no such thing!" The whip was cracked again, this time leaving a thin, but somewhat deep, line on the boy's arm. "Do not expect a meal tonight!"

The wolf snarled as he saw the turtle cower on his knees. He lashed the whip once more, and ordered the turtle to his feet. The slave complied, though he was still holding back a sob, and tears started to dribble down his cheeks, mixing with the blood from the lash on his face.

"To your chamber! Now! Maid! Escort the boy!" The wolf snarled to a figure behind him.

Immediately, another reptile—a lizard—stepped out from behind the wolf master, and wordlessly tied a rope around the turtle's neck. The noose was tight enough to restrain him, but loose enough to allow movement of his neck without feeling the pinch of the rope dig into his skin.

The lizard wore nothing but a short, beat up dress and a white cloth tied around her neck, similar to the turtle slave's.

The maid said nothing, and led the freckled turtle into a clearing. The clearing held five tents surrounding a fire, and two large, wooden wagons that were to be pulled two of the stronger slaves.

Once the maid and the slave were close to one of the smaller tents, she whispered, "You know he will want to see you tomorrow night… Why do you do these things, Youngest…?"

The freckled turtle gazed up at the lizard, and stared into her sad, brown eyes. "Because it's what Mother would've wanted me to do."

The lizard shook her head and removed the noose from the turtle's neck.

"Sleep well, Youngest."

The turtle nodded in acknowledgement, and crawled into the flap of the old tent.

"Youngest!" A voice piped from inside the tent. Through the dim light of the tent from the fire a few feet away, the freckled turtle made out three figures starting to crawl in the small tent to greet him. His brothers.

"Where have you been?" The other, slightly gruffer voice demanded. Suddenly, the emerald-eyed turtle paused. "He lashed you…?"

Youngest ran a three-fingered hand over the new gash on his face. It ran angrily across his cheek, slicing right through two of his freckles. "It is nothing, Older… I was just visiting the stream a few steps away."

"Let me see," the last voice said, and the turtle with chocolate irises scooted closer to the youngest brother, and inspected the two inflictions his little brother had gained. "It will heal. But keep out of the dirt, Youngest, or they will get worse."

"Thanks, Younger…"

"Youngest, what if he wishes to see you again…? You are of age; he will not hold any mercy, now…" Younger fretted, his hand brushing his little brother's shoulder.

Youngest flinched, and squeezed his eyes shut. He could already feel the fire that would consume his tail, and he instinctively tucked it as far as he could into his shell.

"I know…"

Older growled, his emerald eyes flashing a spot of anger. "Why not us? Why does he always pick Youngest…?"

Oldest shook his head, his deep, blue eyes sparkling in fear. "I do not know, Older…"

"Maybe I could ask him… tomorrow…" The youngest brother said, and was immediately met with shocked stares.

"You can't, Youngest!" The chocolate-eyed turtle exclaimed. "He will surely punish you!"

"Hush, Younger, the guards will hear you," Oldest said, and turned back to his smallest sibling. "Youngest, don't put yourself in danger for us, it's not—"

"It's not a big deal, Older," The freckled turtle argued. "Surely something as simple curiosity will not get us punished."

"'Simple curiosity' got you punished just now," Older snapped, "Don't talk to Owner when he handles you; just ignore him until he's finished."

"Older, you don't understand… It is very painful when he… I-I mean, it was never painful until I matured, but now…" Youngest cringed. He used to think that his owner was just trying to be nice to him, but after he matured, and his tail was able to react correctly to his master's treatment, it was anything but nice. Sometimes, when his master had had too much to drink, he would give Youngest some of his disgusting addiction, and he would be even worse than normal when he was returned to his brothers.

Older suddenly wrapped Youngest in an embrace, and the freckled turtle laid his head on his older brother's scarred plastron, the top of his head brushing against the tattered, red cloth that was tied around his big brother's neck.

"Maybe we'll be sold to a better master this year," Younger piped, fiddling with the purple cloth around his neck.

Oldest nodded in acknowledgement, "Perhaps…"

"Awaken, slaves! We have much ground to cover today!"

Youngest jolted awake, and peeled himself from his brother's plastron. Yawning, he nudged his red-banded brother awake, and waited until his two other brothers roused before leaving the tent.

Upon coming outside, the freckled turtle watched as the clearing buzzed with cold-blooded slaves trying to pack up the tents, put out the fire, collect water from the stream, and pass out bowls of breakfast.

"Eat quickly." The baby-blue-eyed turtle turned his head to see a lizard—the maid from last night—setting down a small pot at the youngest of four brother's feet.

The freckled turtle nodded, and sat cross-legged at the pot. As the lizard left, he briefly took in the way she limped and walked stiffly. A sliver of fear slid down the young turtle's back; his owner must have misused her again.

He waited for his brothers to join him, and, after subtly bowing their heads and closing their eyes, and thanking whatever higher power there might've been for their meal, they all shoved handfuls of breakfast in their mouths: carrot peelings, rotten lettuce, the tops of radishes, the core of apples, and, occasionally, the rare, non-bruised ends of bananas. It was no proper meal, but it was food—and that's all that mattered.

After eating all of the contents of the small pot, they stood, and awaited orders from the guards that were currently in charge while their boss was composing himself—probably from another night of drinking, the young turtle supposed.

"You, there," A guard—a lion with a good build—called out and gestured to the four brothers. "The red and the blue—head to the wagon. You are to pull today."

All four turtles were bewildered by this. They were only twelve; surely there was someone stronger that could pull the wagon.

"Uh, yes, sir…" Older stuttered, slowly taking a step towards said vehicle, which sat no more than twenty feet away. Older snorted in disbelief and followed him.

"Purple," The lion addressed the second youngest turtle. "You are to help load the wagon."

Younger nodded and jogged after his brothers.

"And you, pathetic snake-," The lion hissed at the turtle in orange, "-are to report to the chief immediately. He is not pleased."

A cold, horrifying strike of fear seized the freckled turtle. "U-Uh… Um... Y-yes, sir…" He gulped, and cast a glance over to the large tent that rested in between two slightly small tents—'Owner's tent…'

He dragged his feet across the campsite and to the tent, stopping right before the entrance before taking a deep breath. "M-Master…?"

"Enter," A voice growled.

Youngest entered to find he same wolf from the night before sitting lazily on his make-shift bed—a simple wooden frame with straw stuffed beneath a mountain of blankets.

The white wolf's golden eyes trailed over the turtle as he entered his tent, and smirked to himself. He huffed in cold laughter when Youngest stopped a few feet from his bed. He gestured the young turtle closer, and the turtle complied without as much as a flinch.

The wolf suddenly sat up in his bed, and gave a smile that should only be allowed for sharks to wear before they killed their prey. He patted the surface beside him, gesturing for the young turtle to climb up on the bed with him.

Youngest complied with a nervous swallow.

He knew this would happen, but he didn't expect it to be this sudden; not so early in the morning; not…

Not when his brothers could hear him.

A scream erupted from within the camp. At first, everyone was silent and pricked their ears and strained their ear holes for any sign of danger. And then it came again, and everyone went about their own business…

…Everyone except for three turtles who were currently missing the youngest of their group.

Younger dropped the box he was carrying. Oldest froze in his movements of strapping a harness to himself. And Older snarled and spat and cursed as he fought the guards to get to his little brother.

Their baby brother. Their light. Their responsibility. Their brother…

Their brother…

And Younger was slapped for dropping his box; and Oldest was shoved to the ground for not following directions; and Older was pinned to the ground and whipped on his thighs and in the crook of the back of his legs.

Youngest was eventually released from the tent. Though he was disoriented and in immense pain, he made it to a guard, who roughly escorted him to his brothers. They were allowed a quick reunion when Youngest saw it.

"Older…" He slurred. "You… We… have a stream…"

Youngest watched the blood on the back of Older's legs trickle down his calves and make tiny pools on the ground. Youngest gave a pained smile.

And his brother held him. His red-banded brother held him.

And he watched the stream.

Me: What do you guys think? Too much? Too little? Not enough imagery? I needz tha feedbackzzzzzz 8D .

(I know it's about two weeks late, but...Happy New Year!)